Dark Lord, School's Out

by Jamie Thomson

  The Dark Lord waved his hand. “Remember that game we used to play on your computer back on earth,” he said. “Fantasy Wars it was called, wasn’t it?”

  “Oh yeah, the one you always used to win,” said an awed Chris.

  “Yes, indeed. Well, I have re-created it, but instead of computers we can play it in the real world. I’ve sort of modeled it on the Darklands. See there—my Iron Tower. And at the other end, the White Tower. See?” He pointed to the far end of the field where Chris could see a model of the White Tower, but where the great telescope observatory rested on the top of the real Tower, on this little model there was a comfortable-looking chair.

  “That’s where you sit,” said Dirk the Dark Lord. “You’ll be playing white of course, and I’ll be black.”

  Chris shook his head. “Wow, Dirk, this is great! And these tiles can be moved around, so we can play on different boards over and over again, right?”

  “Of course,” said a pleased-looking Dark Lord. He hadn’t even noticed that Chris had called him Dirk.

  “What about the playing pieces, what do we use for those?” asked Christopher.

  “Aha, you’ll love this even more,” said the Dark Lord, and he clapped his hands together, creating a loud booming sound.

  Several figures marched out of the Tower, and began to approach the board to take up various positions. Some were Orcs, representing Orcish brigades, others were Goblins with bows and javelins. Other Orcs and Goblins were dressed as human paladins or archers, or knights or light cavalry. The horsemen straddled fake wooden horses, or for the Orcish cavalry, fake-looking wooden wolves. Except for the heads. These were enchanted so that the horses neighed and tossed their heads, while the wolves growled and bared their teeth.

  Chris was amazed. “Live playing pieces, how cool is that!” But then he frowned. “But why use Orcs dressed as humans? Why not real humans?”

  The Dark Lord hesitated. “Well, you know. The humans are … otherwise engaged,” he said.

  Chris looked up at him. “You shouldn’t have done that, Dirk, putting them in the Slave Pits like that. It’s wrong.”

  “Well, whatever, let’s just play for now, okay?” said Dirk the Dark Lord, striding over to the model of the Iron Tower. “The rules are exactly the same as for Fantasy Wars, so you shouldn’t have any trouble learning the ropes. All you have to do is give orders to your units, and they’ll go where you want ’em to.”

  Chris couldn’t help himself—it did look fantastic and so, so cool! A real-life game with real Goblins and Orcs and everything. He strode over to his position. Maybe this time he could beat Dirk, though that was unlikely. Still, it was going to be fun trying. He reached the model of the White Tower and sat upon it. Next to him he found a kind of wooden megaphone—he was going to need it for shouting orders. Dirk the Dark Lord didn’t though, his voice was booming and commanding anyway.

  “So, you get the first move, Christopher! Off you go!”

  Chris grinned as he ordered a burly Orc dressed as a Paladin of the Order of the White Shields forward. The Orc grinned a feral grin and set off—his wooden horse floating over the terrain like a witch’s broom. He tried to pass over a small river, but the Dark Lord shouted, “Hey, you can’t do that! You’re a paladin, right? All that armor weighs you down, you can’t move that far!”

  The Orc paused in mid-travel. “Oh, sorry, my Dark Master, sorry,” he said, a worried look on his face.

  The Dark Lord raised his eyes. “You’re supposed to be a paladin, you don’t call me Master, you have to say things like ‘Die, you fiend!’ or ‘I have sworn an oath to hunt down evil wherever I find it—and I have found it right here, you black-hearted villain—prepare to be annihilated!’ and things like that.”

  The Orc blinked in confusion—there was no way he was going to risk talking to the Dark Lord like that! Gingerly he backed his floating horse up a tile. Then he dismounted, planting his feet on what looked like a bush. There was a yelp of pain. The Orc stepped back in surprise. He had stepped on a little Goblin hidden beneath some foliage on a tile representing a small wood.

  “Bah, you lucky dog,” said the Dark Lord. “You uncovered one of my Goblin Light Infantry Units hiding in ambush. They’ll have no chance against paladins! A thousand curses!”

  “Great! Destroy them, my paladins,” said Chris, getting into the spirit of the game. The paladin Orc raised his sword in the air—a real sword! The little Goblin cowered down, and whimpered, one arm raised feebly in the air.

  “Whoa!” said Chris. “Hold on there a sec. It’s just a game, we can’t really kill people, right?”

  “What, why not?” said the Dark Lord. “That’s half the fun!”

  Chris got up, outraged. “No way, I’m not playing like that. It’s sick,” he shouted.

  The Dark Lord made a face. “Yeah, yeah, I know, dude, I was just joking, really. Don’t worry, no one’s actually going to die, all right?”

  Chris frowned at him suspiciously.

  “No, really, I’m serious,” said the Dark Lord. “No one’s going to die—it’d be a waste of good soldiers, for one thing! Better they die on the real field of battle than on this gaming table.”

  “All right then,” said Chris, mollified, as he sat back down.

  “I knew you’d make a fuss if we tried to do it for real,” said the Dark Lord mischievously, a Dirklike grin on his massive face.

  Chris sensed the Dirkness in that smile, and he laughed too, realizing the Dark Lord really was joking. He got back into his role, and said, “You are the Evil One, and I shall destroy you and all your works. Proceed, my paladin!”

  Dirk put his head back and laughed loudly. “That’s it, Christopher, that’s it!”

  The Orc paladin looked back and forth between the two, a confused expression on his rough features. The Dark Lord nodded at him. “Get on with it, you fool,” he said.

  “Oh yes, my Dark Master, of course,” muttered the Orc.

  “No, no, you’re supposed to be … Oh, never mind,” said the Dark One.

  The Orc brought down his sword lightly on the Goblin’s head, who then pretended to die most horribly, which made Christopher and the Dark Lord laugh even more. It was as if they were in Christopher’s room back home, playing together on his computer. And so it went for a while until a little Goblin messenger rushed up to the model of the Iron Tower.

  “Well, what is it?” said the Dark Lord, annoyed at the interruption. He was just planning an assault on the model of Gam, the City of Men, with an elite unit of Orcish Storm Troopers.

  The little Goblin blinked up at the Dark Lord, terrified. The Dark Lord raised his eyes. “Oh, for evil’s sake, I’m not going to eat you, what is it?”

  The Goblin handed the Dark One a piece of paper. “A message, your Imperial Majesty. From Og the Torturer,” squeaked the Goblin.

  “Og, Overseer of the Slave Pits? What does he want?” muttered the Dark Lord, snatching the note from the Goblin’s hand.

  He quickly read it—and scowled. Then he stood up, raised his face to the darkening sky, and howled a howl of rage. Without another word, he strode off toward the Iron Tower.

  Chris leaped to his feet and ran after him. “What, what is it, Dirk?” he said, breathlessly. He’d had to run pretty fast to catch up with the Dark Lord.

  “It’s your annoying little girlfriend, Sooz—and don’t call me Dirk!” said the Dark Lord.

  “Oh come on, she’s not my girlfriend and you know it. Anyway, what’s she done?” retorted Christopher.

  The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes. “She has interfered. Meddled! There’s nothing I hate more than dogooding meddlers! I’m going to … to …” As he said this he balled his taloned hands into fists and began to growl incoherently.

  “Hold on,” said Christopher, putting a hand on the Dark Lord’s arm. “You need to calm down before you do anything rash!”

  The Dark Lord stopped, and glared down at Christopher. His yellow eyes gleamed with rage. He lean
ed his head down and hissed threateningly into Chris’s face. “You dare lay your hand on …”

  Chris flinched, but then the Dark Lord blinked his weird reptilian blink.

  “Just pause for a moment, think it through, take a deep breath or two,” said Chris, and he took the Dark Lord’s great hands in his, and looked up into his face.

  A calmness seemed to wash over Dirk.

  “No, you’re right, Christopher, completely right. Sooz must be handled … delicately,” he said.

  When the Going Gets Tough, the Tough Get Going

  The Dark Lord gritted his teeth, trying to contain his anger. “So, you just let them go, huh, just like that?”

  “Yes, I did. I sent them home, and closed down the Slave Pits. I did it. It was me,” said Sooz, chin raised defiantly, hands on her hips.

  “And what, the guards just let you? Are they mutinous dogs too?” said the Dark Lord.

  “Oh no, no,” said Sooz. “I ordered them to do it, and so they did.”

  The Dark Lord frowned in puzzlement. “You … ordered them?”

  “Yes,” said Sooz. “Have you forgotten that I was in charge here, before you returned? I saved most of them. They loved me, they chanted my name and called me their Moon Queen and everything!”

  The Dark Lord glared at her. “Bah, love!” he said contemptuously.

  “You agreed to it too, you told them all that I was the Moon Queen. It’s not their fault, leave them out of it!”

  The Dark Lord folded his arms. “Well, I suppose so. Which means it’s all your fault.”

  The Dark Lord towered over Sooz. A moment of silence followed as they stared at each other, each uncertain about what to do or say next. Christopher stood to the side, trying to think of a way to mediate between them.

  They were in Sooz’s personal chambers. The Dark Lord had reclaimed his Inner Sanctum for himself, but he’d given Sooz an extensive suite of rooms of her own which they had renamed the Moon Wing. She’d had a lot of fun gothing it up. (She’d had her bedroom made up as an almost exact replica of her room back home.)

  The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes. “I’m going to put them back to work in the Pits. I need those slaves to make my Battle Balloons, and those rock grenades, the Candies of Doom!”

  “You can’t make them work like that. You can’t have slaves, it’s wrong!” said Sooz.

  “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, little girl!” said the Dark Lord, his features contorting with anger.

  “Why not? What are you going to do, lock me up? Kill me?” she said.

  The Dark Lord angrily raised a taloned fist.

  “I’ve got an idea,” piped up Chris.

  “What?!” said the Dark Lord and Sooz angrily at the same time. They turned to Chris.

  “Umm … the problem’s really slavery, isn’t it, Sooz? That’s what you object to?”

  “Well, yes, mostly that—plus I promised there’d be no more of it. But also there’s the war stuff, and …”

  “Yeah, but slavery—that’s why you started paying people with fair wages.”

  “Yes,” said Sooz. “What about it?”

  “Well, what if you did the same, Dirk—started to pay them to build your stuff? And with decent hours, and if you want ’em to work harder, you could pay overtime, like they do on earth. It really works—people work better if they’re paid!”

  The Dark Lord shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous, Christopher. Why should I hire humans when I can enslave them? And overtime, ha! You must be joking!”

  “But what if you minted your own coins to pay them with?” said Christopher.

  “What do you mean?” said the Dark Lord.

  “You know, with your face on them. You could put your Seal on one side, and then your face on the other.”

  The Dark Lord looked thoughtful for a moment. “My face …,” he said. “Like the presidents back on earth …”

  “Yeah,” said Chris, encouraged to see he was having some effect. “And it could say stuff, like ‘Year of Our Dark Lord,’ or ‘All Hail the Great Dirk the Marvelous,’ or ‘In the Name of His Imperial Darkness,’ and so on!”

  “Yeah, yeah,” nodded the Dark Lord. “I like it!”

  “And you can have pennies and dimes and dollars or whatever you want—like gold pieces, or something more Darklandsy!” continued Chris.

  “Or ‘Dirks,’ you could call the currency ‘Dirks,’” added Sooz. She turned to Chris, grinning. “Awesome, Chris,” she mouthed silently.

  Chris beamed from ear to ear.

  The Dark Lord went on. “Dirks! Yes, perfect. I could have Copper Dirks, Silver Dirks, and Gold Dirks—I love it!”

  “And there could be ten Copper Dirks to a Silver Dirk, ten Silvers to a—” said Chris.

  “No wait,” said the Dark Lord. “We can’t have Copper Dirks and Silver Dirks, there can only be Gold Dirks!”

  “Okay, so what do we call the others?” said Chris, egging him on.

  The Dark Lord paused. “Hmm, Copper Christophers, and Silver Soozes. How does that sound?”

  Chris frowned. “Why do I have to be copper?” he said.

  “Ha, ha! ’Cause you’re Christopher, why else?” said the Dark Lord.

  “Well, okay, if I get my head on the coin,” said Chris.

  “What? No, of course not! Every coin will have my head, they’ll just be called Christophers and Soozes, that’s all,” said the Dark Lord.

  “So,” said Sooz. “Does that mean no more slaves?”

  The Dark Lord raised his eyes. “Yes, yes, all right, no more slaves.”

  “You’ll pay them fairly, with decent working conditions and overtime and everything?” she said.

  The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes. “You’re pushing it Sooz …”

  “It’s the fastest way to get your coins into circulation, so everyone is using them!” interrupted Chris quickly. “You could design them yourself, of course, get the right profile of your head, so you look your best!”

  The Dark Lord paused. And then nodded grudgingly. “True, true, gets them into circulation … They’ll be all over the place, won’t they? Hmm … Oh, all right, you can have this one, Sooz, we’ll do it your way!” With that he turned on a hoofed heel and strode out the door, calling out as he did so: “Agrash! Agrash, where are you? We’ve got work … You’ve got work to do!”

  Chris turned to Sooz and let out a sigh of relief. “Wow, that was close!” he said.

  “I guess,” said Sooz, “but we still have a problem.”

  “What?” said Chris.

  “The Battle Balloons,” said Sooz.

  “What about them?” said Chris.

  “He’s still going to build them, and then he’ll use them to kill lots of people. I can’t allow that,” she said forcefully.

  “You can’t allow … Come on, Sooz, we’ve been lucky so far. There’s still some Dirk in there but if we keep pushing this, he’s going to flip. And then there’s no telling what he’ll do.”

  “I don’t care! He can’t start a war like this; it’s crazy! And we’re not just talking about the people of Gam or whatever. Hasdruban will hit back, and there’ll be battles and lots of our people will die too. My people, that is,” said Sooz passionately.

  “Your people? But Sooz, you’re a girl from—”

  “Yes, Christopher. My people,” said Sooz, interrupting. “I have to stop him, and you’re going to help me.”

  Christopher stared at her for a moment as if she were crazy. Then he put his face in his hands and said, “Oh no, we’re going to get into so much trouble!”

  Bad Judgment Day

  All was quiet. The Dark Lord was sitting on the Throne of Skulls, chin in one hand, and he was gazing at Sooz, thinking. Sooz, aware he was staring at her, stood there uncomfortably, looking at the floor. The atmosphere generally was not good. Agrash was getting stressed and his nose began to dribble. As it dripped, snot splashed to the floor where it vaporized with a hiss. Desperately, he tried to s
top the flow, terrified he might anger the Dark One.

  The Dark Lord was calm now, but earlier he had been striding up and down the Great Hall shouting and screaming like a two-year-old.

  It was Christopher and Sooz, you see. After weeks of work, the Dark One had amassed a force of Battle Balloons, along with an arsenal of the Candies of Doom, but Christopher and Sooz … Well, they’d let them go.

  Untethered them. Let them float off into the skies on their own to be lost forever, crewless and unmanned, but full of all the bombs he’d had made. Now he had no Balloons and no bombs. He’d have to start all over again. And that made him angry—very angry.

  So he’d gotten most of the anger out of his system before bringing Sooz and Chris before him. But now they were here.

  “What to do with you,” said the Dark Lord. “I mean, it’s really mutiny, isn’t it, what you did? Letting all the Balloons go up into the air like that … What a waste. You deliberately did it to mess up my plans! How could you?” He shook his horned head ruefully. “I really ought to punish you both. Harshly.”

  “We saved lives and stopped a pointless war, that’s all,” said Sooz, gazing at the floor.

  “Bah, you delayed the war, that is all,” said Dirk the Dark Lord.

  Sooz looked up at him. “There’s no need for war. You can make peace. Everyone can live together!”

  The Dark One made a face. “Don’t be ridiculous! There will be war, and with earth technology I will be victorious. The only thing stopping me is you and Chris. And I have to do something about that. I don’t want to hurt you, I really don’t, but something has to change. So …”