by Mike Ashley
Ruella made her grand entrance at moonrise. After much argument, she’d finally got the hairstyle she wanted: huge back-combed spikes that stood out in all directions. She’d circled her eyes with black ash and dusted her face with Dead Body Shop Crushed Bone Powder (not tested on Hobbits) to give her a super-chic pallor. She wore a gown of skin-tight black leather slit to the thigh, and carried a ten-foot-long bullwhip loosely coiled in one hand.
A hushed silence fell over the room; all activity ceased. Ruella leaned petulantly beneath a gilded archway, the hand with the bullwhip resting on her hip. She studiously curled her upper lip, giving the crowd the oh-so-mature-and-jaded, seen it all and found it too dull for words look she’d been practising in the mirror for the past two hours.
A rasping, gravelly voice rose from somewhere near the back and the entire throng joined in a rousing chorus of “Happy Birthday”. Ruella dropped her jaded lip-curl and fell into a fit of giggling as a group of hooded figures lifted her above the crowd, bouncing her up and down sixteen times. They finally dropped her onto her throne, where she fell back, gasping for air.
“Speech! Speech!” the hooded figures shouted.
Ruella stood up and signalled for silence. “I’ve only got one thing to say: where the hell are my presents, you bastards!”
The hooded hordes rushed forward and swept her up again.
“I’m sorry I asked!” she shouted as they carried her across to the stage. At the approach of a throng of hooded corpses, the musicians stepped aside, leaving the stage to Ruella, who’d been dumped stage-centre. “Okay,” she said, looking down at her empty hands, “who’s got my whip?”
“I do!” shouted a hooded figure surrounded by a haze of buzzing flies.
“You’re dead, buddy,” Ruella said, pointing a threatening finger.
“I know that!”
The room exploded into hysteria.
“I’m the one who’s having the birthday!” Ruella whined in mock despair. “How dare you get all the laughs!”
Ruella had to stay on the stage as the guests trooped forward with their gifts, and she had to look grateful, though it wasn’t easy. She’d never seen such a collection of rubbish: lengths of silk and emerald tiaras – real old lady stuff. Did they really think she’d be caught dead in a tiara? And then somebody gave her a solid gold spinning wheel! A spinning wheel? Who did they think she was, somebody’s grandmother? “Gee, thanks,” she said when it was all piled up in front of her.
“Make way! Make way!” a rasping voice shouted from the doorway. “Behold the beloved Queen of Tanalor and Hala’s birthday present from the members of her household, for which we all chipped in!”
A hooded figure made its way towards the stage, leading a night-black horse.
Oh no, Ruella thought, not another horse. She already had a stable full of the damn things, and all they did was eat. “It’s a horse,” she said, trying not to sound too disappointed.
“This is no ordinary horse, my Lady,” the rasping voice replied as it reached her. “This is what is known in the trade as ‘souped-up’.”
“Souped-up? What do you mean?”
“Behold the horse in first gear. It looks like an ordinary animal, does it not? Ideal for shopping or occasional leisurely jaunts to the country. But when I do this . . .” The creature grabbed the horse’s tail and turned it clockwise twice. The hooves split open, revealing a set of wheels. “That’s only second gear,” said the rasping voice, “wait ’til you see third!” It turned the animal’s tail three more times. A pair of wing-shaped panels sprang out from the animal’s sides; its nostrils belched smoke. “You control it here.” The rasping creature picked up a section of the horse’s mane. “This way’s up, this way’s down, the middle holds it steady.”
Ruella clapped her hands and jumped up and down. “It’s fabulous!”
Of course she had to try it out right away. She jumped on the horse’s back and rode outside, where the unfortunate thousands were still queuing. They cheered when they saw her and then they gasped in unison; the horse had risen from the ground and was circling several feet above their heads. “My beloved people,” Ruella shouted down at them, “thank you for coming out to celebrate my sweet sixteen. I’m sorry none of you will be allowed inside the palace tonight, but then you’re peasants so you understand how it is. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she said, turning the horse back towards the palace, “I’ve got some partying to do.” The horse dropped something unpleasant on several members of the crowd. “Oops,” said Ruella, stifling a giggle.
It was early morning, and from her bedroom window high atop the palace, Ruella watched the last of the revellers leaving. She stepped back into the shadows when she saw a wizard from Lithia step into the courtyard; he was looking straight up at her window. She’d been hiding from him for the last hour; she never should have gone behind the stables with him to smoke that Wizard’s Weed – the guy seemed to think that meant they were going steady. She watched her guards usher him through the gate, and sighed with relief. She was tired, and all she wanted to do was sleep.
She was just taking off her make-up when there was a loud knock at her door. “Oh no,” she moaned, thinking the Lithian had found his way back into the palace. “Who is it?” she asked sharply.
“It’s me,” replied a rasping voice.
“Come in.” She waited until the hooded figure had closed the door behind itself. “What’s up?”
“I’ve brought you your birthday present.”
“What? The horse?”
“No. The horse was a gift from all of us. This is a gift from me.” The creature reached into its robes and pulled out a small round piece of clear crystal.
“What is it?”
“Behold the latest in communications. No longer need you rely on messengers that may not bring a reply for days – with this you can speak face to face with anyone you want to, instantly. Anyone who has one of these, that is.”
“Wow,” said Ruella. “How does it work?”
“You just tell it who you want to contact; it does the rest through a bit of minor sorcery.”
“And you can see them and hear them and everything?”
“Yes. Provided they’re at home.”
“Nifty! And does the . . . um . . .” Ruella’s cheeks were burning; she lowered her head and stared at her feet. “Does the . . . ?”
If the rasping-voiced creature had eyebrows, it would have raised them. “Does the Lord of Darkness have one? Is that what you’re trying to ask me?”
Ruella giggled.
“I believe he does. He has all the latest gadgets.”
As soon as Ruella was alone, she combed her hair and put on a fresh coat of make-up. She tried on six different outfits before she changed back into the one she’d been wearing to begin with. She practised a new facial expression in the mirror – she wanted the casual, just called up to say “hi” look, which she achieved by baring her teeth in an open-mouth grin and opening her eyes a little wider than usual.
She took a deep breath, gathered up her courage, and approached the table where the creature had placed the crystal ball. “The Lord of Darkness, please,” she said. “Calling the Lord of Darkness.”
A woman’s voice replied, “That ball is busy. Will you hold?”
“Uh . . . okay.” Ruella rushed back to the mirror for a quick check. She couldn’t go through with it; she couldn’t possibly let the Lord of Darkness see her like this, she’d been up all night and she looked terrible.
“Putting you through now,” said the crystal.
The crystal ball transformed itself into a giant red eye. “Hello?” boomed a harsh male voice. “Who’s there?”
Ruella crept behind the table and threw a cloth over the crystal, breaking the connection. A moment later, she grinned to herself. At least she knew that he was home.
She called him three more times that day, just to make sure he hadn’t gone out.
After a week of calling the Lord of Darkne
ss and throwing the cloth over the crystal as soon as she heard his voice, Ruella got the brilliant idea that if she just happened to be riding past his Dark Tower – because she just happened to be in the neighbourhood – she just might run into the Lord of Darkness in person. First she made a quick call on the crystal ball, just to make sure he was home, then she got dressed.
With her new horse cruising in third at an altitude of about two hundred feet, it took her less than two hours to reach the Dark Land. It was everything she’d ever dreamed of, a stark land almost bare of vegetation, where sulphur mists rose beneath a blood-red sky. And it would all be hers, once she got over the minor problem of making the Lord of Darkness fall madly in love with her.
She brought the horse in for a landing about a mile away from the Dark Tower, and had it continue at a leisurely trot. As she approached the Dark Tower, she noticed a single red light burning in a window near the top. That had to be his chamber.
She rode past once, watching the window from the corner of one eye. Then she rode past again. Then once more, just in case.
Ruella was sound asleep when the round crystal began to make a ringing noise. “Wha’?” she said, opening her eyes.
“Hello, Ruella!” said a man’s voice. “Remember me?”
It was that moron from Lithia! Ruella had to think quickly. “Ruella no here,” she said, disguising her voice and hiding her face behind a blanket, “I yam de cleaner. Ruella go out, she no say when she come back.”
“I see. Can you tell her I called, please?”
“Yeah, yeah. I give her message. You go now, I gotta clean.” She threw her blanket on top of the crystal and sighed.
Sometimes, when Ruella rode past the Dark Tower, the red light moved from one window to another, but no one ever came outside. In fact, she never ran into anyone when she was in the Dark Land; if it wasn’t for the moving light in the tower, she would have thought the whole place was deserted. She began to wonder if it was time to change tack.
“What does the Lord of Darkness like better than anything?” she asked the creature with the dangling eye.
“Desolation, I suppose. He’s quite big on desolation.”
“No, I mean like what do you think he’d like to receive as a gift? You can’t give someone desolation, can you?”
“No,” the dangling eye agreed, “but you can give them the means of desolation.”
“Like what? I would have thought he’s got all the means of desolation he needs.”
“Yeah, but he likes to get gifts of soldiers. He gets through a lot of soldiers in a year – he can always use more.”
“Soldiers,” Ruella said. “I never thought of that.”
The Lord of Darkness didn’t even send a thank you card. Ruella was sulking in her room when there was a knock at the door. “Go away,” she said.
“It’s me,” said a rasping voice.
“I don’t care who it is. Go away.”
The door opened and the hooded figure entered. “I have urgent news,” it said.
“I don’t care,” Ruella said, sticking out her lower lip.
“You must listen,” said the rasping voice, grabbing her by the shoulders. “The Lord of Darkness has been defeated.”
“WHAT?”
“He has been driven from his tower.”
“But that can’t happen! He’s all-powerful.”
A sound like the scraping together of two boulders came from somewhere deep within the creatures’s skeletal chest; it was crying. “The Lord of Darkness has lost his powers,” it said between sobs, “and with his fall, our own are greatly lessened.”
“What are we gonna do?”
“I don’t know.”
Just then, the crystal made an awful ringing sound, loud and insistent. “If it’s that Lithian again . . .” Ruella said, gritting her teeth. She moved over to the table where the crystal sat. “Hello?”
The crystal became filled with a single glowing red eye. “Ruella?” said a harsh male voice.
“Yes. Who is this?”
The eye moved backwards, becoming smaller. Finally, Ruella was able to make out a bald-headed man with a single red eye, a long crooked nose, and dark blue lips. He was holding a heart-shaped box of candy and a dozen roses. “It’s me, baby. The Lord of Darkness. But you can call me ‘Malcolm’ – all my friends do.”
“What do you want?”
“I was thinking maybe I could drop by tonight. I’ve been meaning to call you for a long time, but I’ve been so busy with this ’n’ that, you know how it is. But now I’ve got some time on my hands, I thought we could get to know each other, know what I mean?” He winked and ran a forked blue tongue suggestively around his cracked blue lips. “You are one foxy chick, Ruella.”
“I’m sorry,” Ruella said, “but I’m busy. I’m washing my hair tonight.”
“Oh, I see. Well, sure if you’re busy.” The Lord of Darkness paused a moment, thinking. “I know! How about if I just come over anyway, and kinda hide out in your castle for a while? You see there’s these guys that are kinda looking for me . . .”
“Beat it, loser,” Ruella said, throwing a cloth over the crystal.
“Your Majesty!” a herald shouted, rushing into the room. “The Knights of Light and Honour, led by the barbarian champion Glorioso, are heading this way! They should be here within four hours!”
“We’re doomed!” said the rasping voice. “We don’t even have an army any more, because you thought they’d make a nice gift!”
“Shut up and let me think,” Ruella snapped. “Okay,” she said, turning to the herald, “I want everyone in the throne room in fifteen minutes. Got it?”
“Got it,” said the herald, exiting quickly.
“Don’t worry,” Ruella told the rasping voice as she pulled down her Lord of Darkness poster and scrunched it into a ball.
Fifteen minutes later, Ruella addressed her household. “I’m sure you’ve all heard the news by now. The Lord of Darkness is fallen, and the Knights of Light and Honour are marching this way, led by a champion. The way I see it, we’ve got two options: the first one is to go down fighting, but I’m going for the second. Or as someone much wiser than myself once said, ‘If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.’ But I intend to go one better on that second option, and make ’em think we were on their side all along. So what we need to do is this: dwarves, give the place a thorough going-over, and burn anything that might tie us with the forces of Darkness. And if anyone asks you anything, you don’t know a thing, you’re just the cleaners. Guards and heralds, go out to the stables, cover yourselves in shit and start working the fields – the Knights of Light and Honour never harm humble peasants, so hide your weapons and chew straw until further notice.”
She pointed at the undead hooded figures, “You lot, come with me.”
In a cavern far below the castle, Ruella and the hooded figures discussed their plans. “So how much magic have we got left?” she asked.
“I still have one or two tricks left up my sleeve,” said the one with the dangling eye. “Light the cauldron!”
While several of the hooded figures gathered around the cauldron, two of them ran back upstairs. Returning with several bolts of white cloth and a selection of needles and thread, they sat down in a corner and went to work.
Ruella watched in fascination as the creatures poured several brightly coloured substances into the cauldron, all the time chanting in a strange forgotten tongue. Suddenly, they stopped. “It’s ready,” said the dangling eye.
“What’s it for?” Ruella asked.
“It completely transforms your appearance.”
Ruella made a face. “Do I have to drink it?”
“No. Sit down.”
Ruella sat down next to the cauldron, surrounded by all but two of the hooded figures; they were still busy sewing. The hooded figures took turns dipping a large wooden ladle into the cauldron and saturating Ruella’s hair with its contents.
At the end of one hour, they d
ipped Ruella’s head in water and handed her a mirror. She gasped in amazement; her appearance had been completely transformed. She was a blonde!
The two creatures who’d been sewing presented her with a flowing white dress; the rasping voice placed a selection of dainty little flowers in her hair, which had been twisted into golden ringlets. The dangling eye placed both hands on its hips. “If this kid ain’t a picture of innocence, I don’t know who is!”
“Those Knights of Light and Honour won’t know what hit ’em,” said the one surrounded by buzzing flies.
“Yeah, but all the Knights of Light and Honour have to do is take one look at you guys . . .”
“We’ll be okay,” said the rasping voice. “We haven’t lost all our powers; we can still do rudimentary shape-changing.”
“Shape-changing? You mean you guys don’t have to look like that?”
“No, of course not,” said one with live rats scurrying around its ribcage.
“So how come you all look like refugees from a cemetery?”
“Fashion,” said the one with the buzzing flies.
Far below the castle, Ruella held a last-minute inspection. She walked up and down, examining row upon row of golden-haired maidens in white dresses. “You,” she said, pointing at a maiden’s chest, “what are you doing with those?”
“What do you think?” asked the maiden.
“They’re bigger than mine. Get rid of them!”
“Ooh!”
“I said, get rid of them!”
The maiden scowled, but her breasts shrank to half the size.
“That’s better,” Ruella said. “Everybody got their rose petals?”
Each maiden held up a full pouch.
“Okay,” said Ruella. “Let’s do it.”
The Knights of Light and Honour expected trouble when they crossed the border. They’d heard Tanalor was a dark and dangerous land, ruled by an evil teenage sorceress and her undead minions. They were pleasantly surprised to find themselves greeted by scores of golden-haired maidens, blowing kisses and throwing rose petals.
