The Dark Lord's Handbook by Paul Dale Read Free Book Online

anyway?”
    “Five hundred and twenty-three,” said Grimtooth.
    Behind him there was a cough, and what Morden swore was a giggle. Grimtooth spun round and glared. “Okay, okay. Five hundred and fifty,” he mumbled.
    Morden was almost dumbstruck. “Wow, that is old.”
    “Thank you for reminding me,” said Grimtooth. He glared over his shoulder at his fellows. “Happy now?”
    “You don’t look it,” said Morden. “Though I have to say I haven’t met anyone who claims to be as old as you before. You don’t look bad. No, really. You must work out.”
    Grimtooth seemed to brighten a little. “It shows?”
    “Oh, yes. Definitely.”
    There was an embarrassed silence. “Do you think we could talk more privately?” whispered Morden, suddenly aware that there were twenty pairs of ears hanging on his every word.
    “Scram,” barked Grimtooth, and the other orcs disappeared in a frenzied scramble.
    Morden was relieved to be alone with Grimtooth. He had a thousand questions, but first he needed to get warm. He’d been sitting next to the door-flap for the last ten minutes and there was quite a chill running up under the hem of his coat. He edged himself around out of the draught and warmed his hands. Grimtooth remained standing, head bowed.
    “Come sit,” said Morden, realising that the orc was waiting for his command. Though the orc could have ripped him limb from limb and used his sinews to floss, somehow Morden knew that Grimtooth would now only ever do Morden’s bidding even if it cost him his life. At this realisation, a surge of energy swept through his body. So this is what real power felt like.
    “I have so many questions,” said Morden when he was comfortable. “Where did you get this book?”
    Grimtooth was staring into the flames and began to speak:
    “The last Dark Lord was Zoon the Reviled. He had a mighty army and his power covered the land like a bad rash, one that itches and causes extreme discomfort. But he was thrown down, for the salve to his rash bore a righteous weapon and Zoon’s hand was hewn from his body and he fell. A young orc bore witness, and unseen this orc took the hand that was hewn and the book that it clutched and kept it.”
    “And that young orc was you?” Morden was quite incredulous at the idea that Grimtooth had witnessed the stuff of legend.
    “No, that was my cousin, Nimblefinger. He was always nicking stuff. I got the hand when we were sorting through his belongings after his accident .”
    Grimtooth shuddered and Morden decided that any accident that made a savage orc such as Grimtooth shake at its memory was probably one best left unexplained.
    “But how did you know to find me? And how is it that our names are written in it?”
    “I am as puzzled as you, young Morden, as to how our names are written, but they are. We are bound to this book somehow. I have dreams, and those of late had me come here to visit my brethren. I know not why, but I knew you would pass by me; I had been given the name Deathwing in the dreams, and when I first set eyes on you I was sure.”
    “But we’ve never met.”
    “It was the robe. I was looking for a Dark Lord and there you were, striding into the square in an ankle length black robe, hooded, and with your hands plunged into your sleeves.”
    “You’re kidding.”
    Grimtooth gave Morden a sidelong look. “Well, what else did I have to go on? Anyhow, when you got close I could smell something different about you.”
    “Ah, well. That could be the lotion that matron gave me. I’ve been getting this rash you see.”
    “A rash?”
    “Yes. And no, it’s not what you’re thinking. My skin sometimes goes a bit…scaly.” Morden couldn’t believe he was telling Grimtooth about his rash. When he’d first gone to matron she’d told him to wear boxing gloves to bed and not to fiddle with himself. When he insisted she take a look at his chest and the rash he had there she was as mystified as he had been. His skin had