The Chambers of Correction

Dirk and Christopher were walking down a long hallway, lit by torches set into the walls. It slanted downward and seemed to go on forever. Side doors were frequent. Most of these rooms were trophy or display rooms, showing off events, triumphs, and famous battles from the histories of the Commonwealth of Good Folk, or strange curiosities and unusual things, or else they were storerooms full of weapons or food or whatever. A little placard on each door gave a brief outline of the contents. There were many different passages and areas, a veritable maze of tunnels, but fortunately the way to the Chambers of Correction—“Bah! Fancy name for a dungeon, basically,” commented Dirk—was regularly marked with signs.

Often they heard approaching footsteps of guards or servants or workers, but it was an easy matter to hide in a storeroom.

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They came to a room that was labeled, “Gamulus vs. Oksana.” This was too much for Dirk, he had to open the door and take a look. Inside was a circular room with a domed ceiling, in which burned another artificial sun, though this one was much smaller than the one in the main entrance hall of the Tower. Around the walls were many carved and painted panels, a kind of sculpted mural, depicting the story of the Wizard Gamulus the Good and his struggle versus an evil Vampire Queen called Oksana the Pale.

“Who are they?” said Christopher, awed by the sight.

“My father and mother,” said Dirk, as he followed the story around the walls.

“Your …” But that was all Christopher could get out, he was so bewildered by the idea that Dirk had a real father and mother.

So Christopher examined the walls too—and was amazed by it, for Gamulus the Good was the third White Wizard, and Oksana was the Vampire Queen of Sunless Keep.

“But it doesn’t say anything about you or Dark Lords, it just shows a great battle, and the forces of Good kicking the butts of the Vampire hordes!” said Chris.

“I know, it is only half the story. Once they loved each other. Sort of. Until my father slew my mother, right before my eyes,” said Dirk.

“Wow! That’s awful, Dirk, you poor thing!” he said sympathetically.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Christopher! I have no need of your petty human empathy and least of all your wretched pity!”

“Sorr-ee!” said Chris sarcastically.

“In any case, it made me what I am today, the Great Dirk, a mighty Dark Lord and everything!” continued Dirk.

“Yeah, well, I guess that explains a lot, doesn’t it? Those psychologists—what’s their names—I bet they had a field day with you!”

“Those fools Wings and Randle, you mean? Ha, I ran rings around them! Though they did get a couple of books out of it. Anyway, enough of this, let’s go on.”

They made their way deeper into the labyrinthine depths of the White Tower.

Leaving the storerooms of the White Tower behind, they eventually came to an archway labeled “The Chambers of Correction.” Beyond was a long, gloomy hall lined with heavy steel doors, each door with a little plaque on it. At the far end, they could see light streaming out from behind a half-open door, and muffled voices talking.

They examined one of the doors. “Chamber 1: Empty Due to Recent Execution.” It was ajar. Inside, they could see a bare, stone-walled room with a dirt floor and a stone bench. Then the next. “Chamber 2: Koff the Warlock—Awaiting Trial for Heresy.” And another. “Chamber 3: Winny Probes—Awaiting Trial for Disrespecting the Office of the White Wizard.” “Chamber 4: Dimdam Watertoes—Awaiting Trial for Publication of Inflammatory Pamphlets Contrary to the Truth.”

There were quite a few in this vein. Then finally they found the one they were looking for. It said, “Chamber 13: Sooz the Black. Indefinite Incarceration by Executive Order of the White Wizard, for Being the Dark Mistress of the Tower of the Moon, and for Agreeing to Marry the Dark Lord.”

Dirk frowned. “Tower of the Moon? What’s that?” he said in a low voice, almost to himself.

Christopher was also frowning. “It says she agreed to marry you! Again!” he said, annoyed.

Dirk put a finger to his lips. “Quietly, Chris, and I’ve told you once already, I didn’t ask her, it’s just the Wizard’s propaganda. They do it all the time, always smearing the Dark.”

Chris glared at him suspiciously.

“Anyway, the important thing is we found her,” said Dirk, examining the door carefully. There were three keyholes at the top, middle, and bottom with three massive locks.

“Thrice-locked steel door. Enchanted too, by the smell of it. Hmm …,” muttered Dirk.

“How are we going to open it?” whispered Chris.

“We can’t, not without the key,” said Dirk.

Suddenly one of the voices at the end of the hall grew louder. “I’m off, then. I’ll be back for the morning shift. Night, Imbolg,” said the voice.

“G’night!” came the reply. Footsteps began to echo out of the far room.

“Quick,” hissed Dirk, “in here!” They darted into an empty cell and hid. Dirk knelt down and peeked out through a thin sliver of space between door and wall. A large man, dressed in a studded leather jerkin and heavy leather pants, ambled past. Various key rings and a big club hung from his heavy leather belt. Obviously he was one of the jailers.

After he’d gone, Dirk sat in thought for a moment or two. He turned to Chris. “We must get the keys to Sooz’s cell,” he said.

“Well, yeah, Sherlock, but how?” said Chris.

“A Sher Lock?” Dirk said, examining the door closely once more. “No, no, they look like standard enchanted locks to me.”

“No, Sherlock is … Oh, it doesn’t matter, just forget I said it, okay?” said Chris.

“All right. In that case, I will have to use the Sinister Hand, send it down to the guardroom. Try and steal the keys,” said Dirk.

“What, after the last time? You said it’d damaged you or something, that it wasn’t safe to use anymore,” said Chris.

“Right,” said Dirk. “It is not safe anymore, but we have no choice. What else can we do? But it is a serious risk, it could even …” His voice trailed off as if he didn’t want to consider the possible outcome.

“But what else can we do?” he continued, as if to himself.

“I don’t like it, Dirk. I mean, you were in real pain the last time, weren’t you?” said Chris.

Dirk squared his shoulders, as if he’d made his mind up about something. “Yes, yes, but what’s a little pain between friends, huh?” he said with a reckless grin. With that he mumbled the words of the Sinister Hand spell, making an arcane pattern in the air with his other hand.

Dirk gasped. His left arm fell away just below the elbow to lie on the cell floor, twitching. His face was a mask of agony. Sweat broke out on his brow. It was all he could do to keep breathing through the pain, let alone control the Sinister Hand.

Chris stared at the hand in horrified fascination. The Sinister Hand … Yuk!

Dirk gritted his teeth. Slowly the disembodied hand began to drag itself along the floor by its fingers, inching its way out of the cell and down the hall toward the guardroom. It was obvious that it was much harder for Dirk than it usually was and that the effort was causing him a lot of pain.

Chris shook his head. He couldn’t bear to see Dirk like this, he had to do something. Quickly he got to his feet and picked up Dirk’s arm.

“No, don’t do it!” hissed Dirk.

Chris ignored him. He crept down the hall up to the half-open door of the guard room. He lay down, and gingerly poked his head around the bottom of the door. At the far end of the stone-walled room, three men sat at a big oak table, playing cards. Beside them were a pile of empty plates and a big jug of water or ale. A roaring fire filled the room with heat. There were also some shelves stacked with documents and records, but mostly it was a pretty functional guardroom.

What interested Chris were the hooks along one wall, upon which were hung various keys, one for each cell. Chris would have been spotted immediately if he’d gone for them, but Dirk’s arm was a different matter. Chris put it down on the floor inside the room. Slowly it began to inch its way to the keys. It creeped him out how Dirk knew where to go—spirit sense or something he’d called it.

Suddenly, one of the jailers glanced over at the door. Chris whipped his head back out of sight, heart hammering like the loud drumbeat of a hardcore dance track. He crouched outside as quiet as he could, praying that the jailer hadn’t seen him.

But he hadn’t been spotted, no one came out to haul him off to a cell or to beat him with a heavy jailer’s club. After a few minutes, Chris heard a shallow scraping sound. Out from behind the door came Dirk’s hand, grasping a bronze key with the number “13” inlaid on it in white.

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Chris grinned in triumph, and picked up the Sinister Hand. He hurried back to the cell. Dirk was sitting by the door, slumped forward, his face pale and drenched in sweat.

“Here,” said Chris, handing his arm back.

“Thanks,” muttered Dirk as he took it with his other hand. Carefully he placed it back where it belonged, muttering a few more words of the spell. The flesh knitted together, but the joint was livid, raw, and red with dark, purple welts. It didn’t look right at all. In fact, it looked like it was infected.

Dirk groaned as he got to his feet. “Can you make it?” said Chris, concerned.

Dirk looked up at him. “Have to,” he said. “No choice.” Dirk hobbled out, holding his arm, his face screwed up in pain. They headed straight to Cell 13. Dirk tried to put the key in the top lock, but he couldn’t do it; his strength failed, and the key fell to the ground with a loud clatter. They both froze in fear … but no one came, no one heard them. Chris picked up the key. He reached up, unlocked the topmost lock. He reached down to do the middle lock, but Dirk shook his head. “Bottom lock next, or you’ll set off an alarm,” he said. Chris nodded, and reached down to open it. Then he unlocked the final lock …

Chris pushed the door gently—it opened slowly and silently on well-oiled hinges.

Dirk and Christopher stepped into the cell. And there was Sooz! She was huddled in a corner, trying to get as far from the door as she could, her eyes red from crying, her hair disheveled, her clothes tattered and torn, and her bare feet covered in scratches and scabs.

Her jaw dropped at the sight of them and then her face lit up with joy. She leaped to her feet, jumping up and down on the spot excitedly. “Dirk, Dirk, I can’t believe it’s you!” she said, and then she ran up and hugged him, so hard that Dirk gasped in pain. He paused for a moment, surprised by this unexpected welcome, but then he hugged her back.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you,” she gushed.

“Good to see you too, my little Vampire,” said Dirk affectionately. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, basically, yeah. They’ve been feeding me, but I’ve been so lonely!” Then Sooz gave him a little kiss on the cheek.

“All right, so, Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd, huh?” said Chris crankily, unable to help himself. She hadn’t even noticed him!

“What!” said Sooz, embarrassed, stepping away from Dirk quickly. Even Dirk straightened up, and coughed. Sooz began to blush.

“Good to see you too, Sooz,” said Chris, sarcastically.

Sooz didn’t notice his tone. “And you, Chris,” she said, her eyes welling up with more tears, but this time tears of joy. She gave Chris a big hug but he stood there stiff and unmoving.

“What’s the matter?” said Sooz, puzzled.

“What’s all this stuff about getting married to Dirk?” said Chris.

“Oh, knock it off, Christopher,” said Dirk, holding his arm.

“No, it’s okay. I should explain,” said Sooz. She stood there for a moment, looking embarrassed, gathering her thoughts and then said, “Well, it was the Ring, you see. When Gargon saw me, he thought you’d given me the Ring, Dirk, because … you know, as … well, you know.”

“As an engagement ring,” said Chris.

“Yeah, and then Agrash and the Goblins and the Orcs, they all believed it too, and that’s why they made me their queen, why they followed me, ’cause they thought I was the rightful queen, betrothed to their Dark Master and everything,” she said. “So I thought I’d better go along with it.”

“So you’re not really engaged then?” said Chris.

“No, of course not! I mean, why would I marry him, even if I could? I mean, duh! Don’t be a dork all your life, Christopher,” she said, looking at Dirk the whole time to see what his reaction would be. But Dirk was holding his arm in obvious pain. “What’s the matter, Dirk?” said Sooz.

Chris blinked. They were wasting time. He was wasting time. Here they were in a cell in a dungeon, in a fantastical tower in another dimension and he was getting jealous and angry!

“He used the Sinister Hand spell to get the key to the door. But something’s gone wrong—he’s used it too many times and now it’s really hurting him, and we’ve got to get out of here,” said Chris in a rush.

“That doesn’t sound good,” said Sooz, concerned. “How did you get here anyway?” she said.

“Well, first of all we … Actually, it’s a long story. We’ll tell you later,” said Chris, leading her by the arm toward the exit.

“Yeah, there’s a lot of catching up to do,” said Sooz. “I can’t believe you came to rescue me. I’m so lucky to have friends like you! I’m so happy! Not to mention thrilled to be getting out of this horrible cell!”

“That’s nice,” said Dirk hoarsely, shuffling his way to the door, “but what happened to the Ring?”

“I’m sorry, Dirk. Hasdruban took it from me after he ambushed my army and captured me. Ripped it from my fingers in fact, the big bully. He did say he was unable to use it, as its power was ‘infected by the Dark’ or something, so he hid it here in these very halls. If it’s any help, I heard him say ‘Put it in the Dark Reliquary’ which isn’t far actually! Oh, it’s just so good to see you both!” Sooz said.

“Didn’t we see a sign to the Dark Reliquary?” said Chris to Dirk.

Dirk nodded. He was hunched over, holding his arm. He looked up at Sooz and smiled. “You have changed,” he said. “You’re not just a little girl anymore, are you?”

Sooz smiled back and shook her head. No, she wasn’t a little girl anymore. She’d fought battles, governed a kingdom, been imprisoned. She had changed.

Dirk grimaced. The pain seemed to be getting worse. Chris and Sooz frowned.

“Come on,” said Sooz. “We can’t stay here, we’ve got to get moving.” Dirk could barely walk; they had to hold him up between them.

“Oh, by the way,” said Dirk, shrugging off the bag on his back. “Here’s your AngelBile backpack, with your makeup and phone and everything.”

“Wow, that’s great. Thanks, Dirk. How’d you get it?” said Sooz.

“The nanny,” said Dirk.

“The … the what?” said Sooz.

“Yeah, the nanny. It’s a long story,” said Chris.