Sooz looked around the gray desolate emptiness of the Darklands. She frowned. She was thinking about what Dirk had told her of this place. When she’d first met Dirk she’d thought he was making it all up for fun—all that stuff about Dark Lords, White Wizards, and spells and everything. But then she’d started to believe him. And now she knew it was true. And that made her scared. Very scared. According to Dirk, here there were Orcs and Goblins and Dragons and Nightgaunts (whatever they were) and Vampires. Sooz was a Goth girl through and through, it was true. She loved Vampires and moons and black stuff and pale skin and all that. But real Vampires? Actual real Vampires that lived forever and drank your blood and lived in places called Sunless Keep? No, thank you!
And she was on her own. All alone, and lost. Maybe lost forever.
It was too much for her. She put her face in her hands and sobbed. She wanted her mom.
But then Sooz felt something odd, something that felt hot against her cheek, and it wasn’t her tears. It was something on her finger. She glanced down at her hand. Dirk’s Ring. It was really very warm. And red runes writhed around it as if alive, coruscating with pent-up energy! She stared at it in amazement. It began to glow with an eerie radiance, a kind of dark light. Not exactly darkness, but not exactly light either. The radiance intensified. She was bathed in it, and it made the skin on her hands glow with a perfect gothic paleness. Quickly Sooz reached into her bag and took out her compact mirror. Her eyes, hair, and lips seemed to shine with a purplish blackness in the bone-pale moon of her face. How beautiful she looked! Like a queen, a beautiful, magnificent Dark Queen of the Night!
“Heh, heh,” she chuckled to herself. Then she caught something moving in the mirror behind her. She turned—it was her shadow! And what a shadow. It was huge. And it looked like she had some kind of ornate spiked crown on her head, a weapon or staff in her hand, and robes of regal majesty!
Perhaps the magical shadows revealed what the wearer would look like if they were a Dark Lord or a Dark Lady. How cool was that! Sooz jumped up and down in excitement. Her shadow responded with great, majestic leaps.
But then reality came crashing back. She wasn’t a Dark Queen, she was just a teenage girl, even if she was a Goth, and the shadow wasn’t real, it was just a magic trick.
Still, it wasn’t all bad. Dirk’s Ring was obviously powerful here in the Darklands. If she could figure out how to use it, she wouldn’t be totally at the mercy of whatever creatures or people she might find here. Maybe she could even become some kind of Dark Queen. She held it up, examined it against the backdrop of the pale moon in the sky. How beautiful it was, the runes burning with dark energy. As she gazed at the glowing runes, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye, on the skyline. Atop a range of low hills stood some kind of tall tower and … well, was it her imagination or was it pink? Bright pink!
Hmm, a pink tower. Doesn’t sound like it would be dangerous, does it? I mean, if you were an evil Orc lord or something, you wouldn’t paint your castle pink, would you? she thought to herself. It didn’t seem that far away either. Sooz resolved to investigate further. So she set off toward it.
Slowly, oh so slowly, the distant tower grew larger and larger as Sooz slogged across the darkling plain.
Suddenly a large dark shape rose up out of the shadows from behind a nearby pile of tumbled rock. Sooz screamed. Before her stood some kind of hideous demon, at least seven feet tall, covered in scaly skin, with a horned head, talons, and huge 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 spewing from bony nostrils.
Sooz cowered, falling to the ground, her hand raised in futile defense. She was just a kid! A mere wisp of a girl lost in this terrible land. How could she fight such a monster? Oh, how she wished Dirk was here to help her. 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—a look of puzzlement passed across its evil face.
The creature reminded her of something. Or someone … Oh yes, that concert she went to with Chris and Dirk, where Dirk thought the lead singer was his … What did he call him? Yeah, his Dread Lieutenant Gargon, Captain of the Legions of … of … Well, bad stuff. Dirky stuff.
“You look like the lead singer of that band Chris likes so much. What were they called? Morti—that was it,” she said.
The demon blinked.
Sooz stared at it. It looked a bit raggedy around the edges, half-starved and filthy. Its feet were scratched and sore. She eyed it suspiciously, not so scared now.
The demon looked back, bemused. Little human girls were supposed to be terrified of him. They weren’t supposed to talk back! Then the girl took a step toward him. They certainly weren’t supposed to do that!
Sooz frowned up at the demon. Suddenly she extended a hand, and spoke: “Hello. You must be Gargon. Dirk gave me this Ring.” She held up her finger. The Ring seemed to respond, as if it knew that it was time to reveal some of its power, and it glowed more intensely with an unearthly light, bathing Sooz’s face in a vampiric glow. Mighty runes began to writhe and coruscate around the Ring, glowing with crimson fire.
The demon’s great fanged jaw dropped 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 the Great Ring! He chose you!” bellowed Gargon. He dropped to one knee. “Gargon swears fealty to the Dark Mistress, Queen of the Night, and betrothed of my dread lord! I serve you in the name of Dark Lord! I be your faithful servant, my Queen.”
Sooz stood there for a moment. Betrothed?
It wasn’t an engagement ring; it was Dirk’s Great Ring of Power! She wanted to tell him they weren’t “betrothed”—and they weren’t going to be either—but maybe that wouldn’t be such a good idea. If Gargon believed they were engaged, then maybe it was better left that way.
Anyway, the important thing was Gargon’s oath of loyalty. An oath of loyalty from a seven-foot demon who was going to be her faithful servant. How cool was that! A half smile lifted one side of her mouth. Now she wasn’t so vulnerable, so weak, so alone—a mere wisp of a girl marooned in a foreign land. Oh no, she had protection—and not just any old protection either, but a seven-foot winged and taloned … er … thingamajig. Called Gargon.
“So, what are you exactly, Gargon?”
“What do you mean, Dark Mistress?” graveled Gargon.
“You know, what kind of … well, thing are you?” she asked again.
“Ah … Gargon not know, my Queen. My master, the Dark Lord—”
“Dirk, his name’s Dirk,” interrupted Sooz.
“Dirk? His name is Dirk? Really? Are you sure, my Lady of the Dark?”
“Oh yes, that’s his real name. Dirk. Dirk Lloyd. Dirk the Dark Lord,” she said.
“D—Dirk. All right, er … my Queen. My master—Dirk—said I was … unique. That there is only one of my kind in all existence,” he replied. He seemed a bit sad at that thought, if a seven-foot, winged demon with smoky wisps coming out of his nostrils could look sad.
Sooz looked up at him.
“Hey, I’m loving those bat wings, Gargon,” she said, trying to cheer him up.
“Thank you, my Lady!”
That seemed to perk him up a bit. “So, what now, O my Dark Mistress?”
“Well, my Dread Lieutenant,” said Sooz, “I was heading to that pink tower over there.”
Gargon turned. “The Tower of my master, the Dark Lord, you mean?” he grated.
“The Tower of … The Iron Tower? The Iron Tower of Despair? But it’s pink. How can it be pink?” she said, confused.
“It was the White Wizard, my Lady. He painted it pink, all over. Pink.” Gargon shook his great craggy head in disgust.
“But why, Gargon. Why would he do that?” she asked.
“I don’t know, your Dark Majesty. Gargon not really understand. All Gargon know is that fairies and human children from Gam, the City of Men, visit Tower now. There are slides and rides and things.”
Sooz narrowed her eyes in thought. Propaganda? Was that it? It was a great way to discredit the memory of Dirk by turning his citadel of power into a pink-painted amusement park, that’s true. But on the other hand, why not destroy it? She shrugged. Anyway.
“So that’s the Iron Tower. Then this must be the Plains of Desolation,” said Sooz, almost to herself.
“Yes, my Lady. I have been hiding here, but never in same place for long. Try to avoid Eagle Riders and Paladins of Righteousness.”
Gargon looked up at the sky, fear etched all over his craggy, scaled face. “They look for Gargon, and if they find me, they kill me!”
“Couldn’t you … you know, surrender or something? They’re supposed to be the good guys—surely they wouldn’t kill you if you surrendered?” said Sooz.
Gargon shook his great bony head. “No, White Wizard say no prisoners. Darkness to be wiped out from the land once and for all. None can live!”
Sooz frowned. That didn’t sound right to her, didn’t sound right at all. A look of determination came over her face.
“We must go there, Gargon. I’d like to have a closer look. Maybe we can take the Tower back. Take it back for Dirk. Anyway, I need somewhere to hang out, get out of the cold. Can’t stay here forever, that’s for sure!”
“As you command, my Dark Mistress of Doom!” said Gargon, and a kind of grin split his hideous face. “It is good to have a Master once more! I mean Mistress. Gargon is happy!”
Sooz smiled up at the vast ugly demon. He was really sweet underneath it all, she thought.
Together they set off toward the Iron Tower of Pinkness … the twelve-year-old girl and the Demon of the Dark. As they walked, she speculated on the Tower. If she’d been one of those “normal” girls (as she called everyone who wasn’t a Goth) she’d love the Tower 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. Black as night, the color an Iron Tower of Despair should be! She looked up at Gargon. Would he be any good as a painter and decorator, she wondered?