Then the moon began to skulk across the face of the sun, and an answering shadow began to creep across the earth. The eclipse was upon them and an uncanny gloom was darkening the land.
Dirk suddenly stopped chanting and threw the powdered eggshells onto the fire. The flames flared up, greener, brighter, hungrier. Everything went silent as if the whole world was waiting for something to happen.
Then, without warning, black storm clouds began to gather with unnatural speed in the sky above Dirk. Sooz and Chris glanced at each other, disbelief on their faces. How could this be happening? Surely it was just a coincidence? Or was it because Dirk really was a Dark Lord, and he was causing this with strange magic from another place and time?
Suddenly there was a crack of thunder, and a bright pool of red light began to form in the middle of the roiling thunderclouds. The sun was blotted out from the sky, and its wholesome light had been supplanted by a sickly ruby radiance, emanating from the bright crimson center of the black storm clouds in the sky, shining down on their small patch of earth like a celestial torch. Dirk threw his arms wide in welcome, his eyes closed in a kind of ecstasy. “Yes, yes,” he cried. “Take me, take me!”
Chris stared in open-mouthed amazement. He could hardly believe this was happening.
He looked across at Sooz, to see how she was taking it.
Sooz, however, seemed to be in another state of mind entirely. She was grinning insanely, as if possessed. Her hair was beginning to stand up on end, crackling with energy, and her eyes seemed to glow red through the dark makeup over her pale skin, echoing the color of the sky. She was spreading her arms as well, and she was standing on her toes—or at least Chris assumed she was. It actually looked like she was floating a few inches off the ground!
Suddenly a lightning bolt of crimson energy lanced earthward from the center of the reddish glow. Dirk tensed expectantly, but then, incredibly, the bolt struck Sooz instead of him with a crackling blast of sound like a sonic boom! She gasped in shock and pain, and began to shudder and shake horribly. The red lightning didn’t fade away or dissipate like normal lightning. In fact, it continued to crackle and burn, holding her in place, discharging vast amounts of power into her, like some kind of laser beam from the heavens, enveloping her completely. She began to smoke.
Dirk looked around confused. Why hadn’t he been struck by the bolt? What was going on? Then he saw.
“Sooz!” Dirk cried in fear and distress. “No!”
Chris began to sprint toward her, shoulder first, intent on knocking her away, out of the ruby beam that held her transfixed, crucified by light. Crimson light burst out of her eyes and mouth and she fell backward. But she didn’t fall to the ground. She began to float. Several feet off the ground. Then she began to scream. A horrible scream of agony and pain that pierced Chris’s ears and heart like a punishment from God.
Chris sobbed in fear. As he got closer, he was struck by a wall of heat—in seconds his hair began to crackle and burn and his eyebrows were singed.
“No, Chris! No! There is nothing you can do,” shouted Dirk. “The heat will kill you!”
And he was right. Chris couldn’t get close, he had to back away—the heat was unbearable. Then a circle of darkness, blackest black against the reddish gloom, began to grow and spread around Sooz. It resolved itself into a kind of doorway, a portal into another world. An alien wind blew from that land to this, laden with strange smells and sounds, unfamiliar, unknown. Shapes began to form, to become more distinct. Chris could see a range of gray, barren hills, a desolate plain, and in the distance, a tall dark tower of peculiar design, reaching to the red-tinged sky of that foreign land like a claw reaching up to scratch out the eyes of heaven.
“The Darklands. She is being taken to the Darklands! How can this be?” howled Dirk.
Sooz was suddenly propelled through the opening. In an instant the crimson bolt clicked off, the thunderclouds faded away, and the dark opening narrowed to a point and snapped shut with a tiny popping sound. Sooz was gone.
The moon skulked on, and bright, wholesome sunlight began to brighten the earth once more. Chris couldn’t believe it. How could this be happening? And was Sooz all right? Was she still alive? He turned to Dirk, with angry questions on his tongue.
Dirk looked upset. Incredibly, Chris could see tears in his eyes. He’d never seen Dirk cry before, never. That shook Chris, more than anything.
“Is she still alive?” Chris asked querulously.
Dirk wiped his eyes and pulled himself together. “Oh yes, yes, she’s alive all right. The Crimson Bolt won’t have harmed her, despite what it looked like. But she is in the Darklands. That’s not the best place to be for a young girl, even a Goth.”
“What are we going to do?” said Chris.
“Well, we must try and rescue her, of course,” said Dirk. He stood there, his brow furrowed, turning the Ring on his finger around and around as he thought.
Dirk went on. “But I can’t understand it. The Crimson Bolt should only strike the one who wears the Ring of Power. It shouldn’t have gone for her at all.”
Chris blanched. His face went as pale as the moon. “Oh no,” he said, putting his hands over his mouth. “Oh no … ,” he mumbled through his hands.
Dirk’s brow furrowed. “What? What is it?”
Chris put his hands down. “The Ring. She was wearing the Ring! It’s all my fault!”
“What do you mean?” said Dirk.
“You remember when you asked me to steal the Ring back from her? I didn’t do it in the end,” said Chris.
Dirk’s jaw dropped in amazement.
Chris went on. “I just couldn’t do that to her behind her back, I just couldn’t. Not to a friend. So I told her you wanted it back. She said that you can’t just take gifts back from people you give them to—and she’s right, you know.”
Dirk just stared at the ground. He growled in anger, though he couldn’t deny the truth of what Chris had said.
Chris carried on. “She thought about it, but in the end she just couldn’t bear to part with it. And she was pretty angry with you for trying to make her. So, we came up with a plan. We had a few days before she went swimming, so we had a jeweler make an exact copy of it and gave that one to you.”
Ah, so that’s why she didn’t seem bothered about losing it, thought Dirk to himself.
Chris went on. “We didn’t think it would make any difference—we thought it was just a ring. And that’s why the Crimson Bolt went for her … And now she’s in the Darklands!” Chris fell to his knees and wailed, “I didn’t know! I didn’t know the Ring was so important! Why didn’t you tell me? And now Sooz is gone.”
Dirk looked enraged for a moment as if he was ready to strike Chris with a terrible spell of Destruction. But then he sighed and the rage left him. He put a comforting hand on Chris’s shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself, Chris. You’re right—I should have told you how important the Ring was to the Ceremony. But I didn’t think. I should have guessed. But what can we do? What’s done is done.”
Dirk helped Chris to his feet. Together they began to walk slowly back home.
“We have to help her,” said Chris.
“Of course,” said Dirk. “We won’t abandon her. I’ll think of something, don’t you worry. Together we’ll save her!”
Chris began to feel a bit better. Dirk was a great wizard, after all. They’d find her, he was sure of it. Then a thought struck him.
“Dirk?”
“Yes, Chris?”
“That was your Iron Tower of Despair we saw, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, Chris, yes, it was. Impressive, eh?”
“Yeah, but, umm, was it my imagination, or wasn’t it, well, wasn’t it actually pink?”
Dirk sighed. There was still so much to do.
The End
Epilogue: Sooz in the Darklands
Slowly, oh so slowly, the distant tower atop the hill grew larger as Sooz slogged across the darkling plain. As she drew nea
rer, she could see it glowing pinkly in the reddish midday sun of the Darklands. She thought about how upset Dirk would be when he found out they’d painted his Iron Tower of Despair pink! If she’d been one of those “Normies” in her school, she’d love it to be pink and fluffy, maybe with a little pink ribbon around the top. But Sooz was a Goth—pink was hideous. Repainting it black, that would be the answer.
Suddenly a large dark shape rose up out of the shadows of a nearby tumbled pile of rock. Sooz stepped back in terror, and screamed. She was on her own, a little girl alone in the Darklands and before her stood what could only be some kind of hideous demon, at least seven feet tall, covered in scaly skin, with a horned head, talons, and fangs. A great leather belt at its waist seemed to have shrunken human heads hanging from it. The thing shrugged—from its shoulders great bat wings extended with a leathery snap. It leaned down and hissed at her—plumes of foul-smelling smoke spewed from bony nostrils. Sooz cowered back, falling to the ground, hand raised. She was just a kid! A girl lost in this terrible land! She wished Dirk were here to help her.
As she quailed, a look of triumph appeared in the red glowing eyes of the demon and it leaned closer and roared, bathing her in a truly awful wash of bad breath. She shivered and tried to crawl away. But then a thought struck her. The demonic figure looked familiar. She narrowed her eyes and stared. Then she got up, and stared some more, looking the strange thing up and down. This seemed to surprise the huge demon—an almost comical look of puzzlement framed its face. Little girls weren’t supposed to do that.
Sooz said, almost to herself, “You look like the lead singer of that band Chris likes so much. What were they called? Morti—that was it.”
On closer inspection the demon, if that’s what it was, looked a bit raggedy around the edges. Half starved and filthy, as if it’d been on the run for months. The demon looked around, as if bemused. Little human girls were supposed to be terrified of him. They weren’t supposed to talk back, that was for sure. Then the girl took a step toward him. That really worried him. They certainly weren’t supposed to walk up to him, fearless and confident! Suddenly she extended a hand and spoke.
“Hello. You must be Gargon. Dirk gave me this Ring.” She held up her finger. The Ring was glowing with an unearthly light, an eerie dark light that bathed Sooz’s face in a Vampiric glow, that gave her a ghostly beauty.
The demon’s great fanged jaw dropped open, and a look of joy crossed its unholy features.
“It is the Great Ring! My Lord lives! My Lord lives,” said Gargon, in a dark, gravelly demon’s voice; for it was indeed him, Dirk’s lieutenant, Dread Gargon, the Hewer of Limbs, Captain of the Legions of Dread.
“And he gave you his Great Ring! He has chosen you!” bellowed Gargon. He dropped to one knee.
“Gargon swears fealty to the Dark Mistress, Queen of the Night, and betrothed of my Lord! I will serve you in the name of the Dark Lord! I will be your faithful servant, my queen.”
Sooz stood there for a moment. Then a little half smile lifted one side of her mouth. Fantastic! A seven foot demon. Her faithful servant. How cool was that! Now she wasn’t so vulnerable, so weak, so alone. She had protection—not just any old protection either, but protection from a seven foot winged and taloned … er … thingy whatsit.
“Hey, I’m loving those bat wings, Gargon,” she said.
“Thank you, my lady!”
Acknowledgments
I, the Great Dirk, would like to claim this work entirely as my own, but I suppose I ought to thank my two worthless hirelings, those soon to be undead ghost writers, Jamie Thomson and Dave Morris, for their contributions. I would also like to condescendingly thank Gregor Smith McGregor of Clan McGregor of McGregor from the Island of the McGregors for his invaluable work in pointing out and correcting the absurd errors and mistakes perpetrated by the above mentioned undead fools, Thomson and Morris (note to self: must punish them). Also, Darren Cheal the Fishlord for his support as well as Detective Inspector Carrrrwen Hughes for his help in certain … errr … legal matters. And Katherine Haslem (called the Spider Queen) for more help with fixing the ghostly drivel of my undead writer-slaves. Oh, and my lackeys—sorry, I mean friends—Sooz, Chris, and Sal for allowing me to write about them. Actually, they didn’t have any choice in the matter, but still, they deserve some recognition.
By the Nine Netherworlds, that tedious lickspittle Thomson insists that I also thank his brother, Peter, for his advice. Apparently, this brother is not actually undead, but I’m sure I can sort that out, given time.
By the Nether Gods! Will it ever end? Now that stinking piece of undead flesh known as Thomson is insisting I thank his partner, Lucy Alwyn, for all her support too! Ha, she has my sympathy also, the poor woman.
And finally, I must also thank Megan Larkin, my slave editor at the publishing house I have honored with my great work, Orchard Books. Thomson tells me she was very useful, and I am glad she survived the Nightgaunt I sent to her house. I think I overreacted a little when I read some of the corrective work she had done on the manuscript. I fear that Matt Ralphs, the second slave editor, did not though. This could be a problem for Book Two, as, in hindsight, he was also rather useful. No wait, I’ll bring him back as a zombie too! There, decided.
The Author
Originally from a world beyond our own, Dirk Lloyd lives in the town of Whiteshields, where he spends most of his time trying to get out of school and back home to his Iron Tower in the Darklands.
He has been a Dark Lord for more than a thousand years. Some of his achievements include: building the Iron Tower of Despair; raising vast armies of Orcs and Goblins; waging great wars; destroying many cities; casting mighty spells and enchantments; and excelling in English, science, and math classes at school.
He has only recently turned to writing. Be warned—reviewers who adversely criticize this work will be hauled off to his Dungeons of Doom, subjected to the Racks of Pain, and then consigned to the Slave Pits of Never-Ending Toil for all eternity.
The Seal of Dirk
Text copyright © 2011 by Jamie Thomson
Illustrations copyright © 2011 by Freya Hartas
Dirk’s seal copyright © 2011 by Russ Nicholson
All rights reserved. You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce, or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
First published in Great Britain in 2011 by Orchard Books, a division of Hachette
Children’s Books, a Hachette UK company
Published in the United States of America in October 2012 by
Walker Publishing Company, Inc., a division of Bloomsbury Publishing, Inc.
Electronic edition published in October 2012
www.bloomsburykids.com
For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to
Permissions, Walker BFYR, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10010
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Thomson, Jamie.
[Dark Lord, the teenage years]
Dark Lord, the early years / by Jamie Thomson.
p. cm.
Summary: Evil Dark Lord tries to recover his dignity, his power, and his lands when
an arch-foe transports him to a small town, into the body of a thirteen-year-old boy.
[1. Identity—Fiction. 2. Magic—Fiction. 3. Fantasy. 4. Humorous stories.] I. Title.
PZ7.T3747Dar 2012 [Fic]—dc23 2012007152
ISBN 978-0-8027-3405-1 (e-book)
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