Chris stood in astonished wonder at what he saw before him. Dirk the Dark Lord had led him out of the Tower and down to a large open space behind it. He had covered this field in hexagon-shaped tiles that seemed to be carved from wood and then enchanted in some way. Each tile had various pieces of terrain modeled on it, lifelike but smaller than real life. There was a little range of mountains, a river, forests, marshes, and so on. And also model towns, cities, and forts. Each model had been magically enhanced in some way. Leaves on trees rustled, towns were inhabited with tiny mannequin people, rivers flowed, small ships sailed upon their waters, and little clouds passed over tiles and rained on them.
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 leaned 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.