by Chris Fox
Kit dejectedly glanced down at the arena floor when a sudden grinding sounded near the pedestal. The stone slowly sank into the floor, spiraling into a darkened stairwell that disappeared into the next level.
“Interesting,” White said, wiping glowing potion from his lips with another belch. “I can literally feel myself growing more powerful.” He turned to the ogre as he dropped the empty bottle, then crushed it with a booted foot. “Take point, my well-endowed friend.”
“You mean go in front, right? Right.” The ogre moved down the stairs with a shrug. He seemed to have forgotten the dominate spell Kit had used, or the fact that he’d been trying to kill White a few moments ago.
Nutpuncher shuffled slowly down the stairs, the gnome’s eyes wide and unfocused. Kit hung back, and let a gap develop between them and the others.
“Are you okay?” She wanted to put a hand on her friend’s shoulder, but worried the gesture might be misinterpreted. She could do without being punched in the crotch again.
“Just…they’re so much stronger than us.” Nutpuncher gazed up at her, dark eyes wide and searching under that moppy hair. “We’re an afterthought. I don’t want to be a sidekick while they rampage around and kill everything. That’s no fun.”
“Me either. That’s not fun for anyone but White.” Kit chewed at her lip as Nutpuncher hopped down another step. “You realize White is going to win in spite of us, and then he’s going to do terrible things?”
“Probably.” Nutpuncher panted in that oddly deep voice, which had returned now that the haste spell had faded. Both his tiny hands balled into fists. “But I ain’t going down without a fight.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Kit’s eyes narrowed as she watched Crushstuff and White disappear up the corridor. “This time I’m not playing along either. If they do something terrible I say we stop them, or go down trying.”
“Deal.” Nutpuncher came down off the last step, then looked at at her again. “Just say the word. We’ll bide our time until you’re ready.”
She nodded, then strode up the corridor after their ‘party’. White and Crushstuff had stopped before an open door, which emerged into a lush green glade. Kit gripped her staff more tightly as they entered an idyllic settling, complete with a rainbow near the ceiling. The door swung silently shut behind them, trapping them in the strange paradise.
“Welcome, welcome.” A Bert-sized man with a black beard, green jacket, and matching pants pranced into view. “Name’s Darby. Welcome to my lair. I trust you’re here to see the dark lord?” The leprechaun cupped a hand to his ear as he awaited their answer.
“We are.” White stepped forward, and Kit noticed his hands twitched, as if longing to choke the creature. “Before I shackle you to my will I will give you a chance to serve willingly. Show us the way to the dark lord, and retain your freedom.”
“Of course.” Darby gave another bow, and raised a hand with impressive showmanship. “The way out is right there.”
On the far side of the glade lay a disembodied door standing by itself. A large keyhole lay in the front, of course.
“And how do I open the door?” White raised an eyebrow, which Kit knew meant he was close to out of patience. Not that he had much of a reservoir.
“You’ll need the key.” Darby folded his arms and smiled smugly. “That’s at the end of the rainbow. The Irish rainbow, I might add. That rainbow is not LGBT+. I might be gay—all leprechauns are—but that rainbow? It ain’t gay. The Irish laid claim to it at least eight centuries ago. It’s cultural appropriation, and it ain’t right. Those bastards need to get their own symbol. Maybe a unicorn. They can’t fight back. They got no hands. And we all know they’re horny.”
Words deserted kit. They deserted all of them. How did one respond, exactly?”
“What?” The leprechaun eyed them crossly. “You have an issue with me being gay? It’s perfectly natural. You ever see a female leprechaun? I didn’t think so. We’ve all got beards, and that’s perfectly fine.”
“No one cares that you’re gay.” White strode forward and loomed over the leprechaun.
“I care,” Crushstuff broke in. “Are you single?”
“No one cares that you’re gay,” White repeated in the tone that made it clear to the ogre to back off. “Now show us how to get this key. You said it’s at the end of the rainbow? I hope you don’t take me for a fool. Everyone knows you can’t ever find the end of a rainbow.”
“Sounds like a you problem.” Darby gave a shrug, and vanished.
Kit waited for the outburst, and wasn’t disappointed. Crushstuff, White, and Nutpuncher all began talking at the same time, each offering up their plan to find the end of the rainbow.
She shook her head and set her pack down in the grass as the three of them wandered off into the glade in an attempt to find where the rainbow ended.
“What are you doing?” Nutpuncher’s deep voice came from behind her. Apparently only two of them had left.
Kit didn’t look up from her work, instead withdrawing a box from her pack and beginning to work on it with a knife. “I’m making a trap.”
“What kind of trap?” Nutpuncher approached and peered down at her work.
“A leprechaun trap.” She reached into her tunic and withdrew her golden amulet, the one from her very first adventure, and dropped it into the box. “You can’t catch a leprechaun, and you can’t ever find the end of a rainbow. White and Crushstuff will be out there for hours. What you can do is entice a leprechaun into a trap. Once you catch one they have to grant your wish. Or up to three wishes depending on how accurate the stories are.”
Nutpuncher nodded eagerly. “So we can still be the ones to get through that door first. On the first floor that death knight guy said that it’s designed for only one person to make it all the way through, right?”
“Yeah, though I don’t know how literal that is.” Kit rose from her trap, and whispered an invisibility spell under her breath. She faded from sight, and would be utterly silent so long as she didn’t move or speak.
“I just wanted to say that I think you should be the one who goes all the way through.” Nutpuncher shifted from foot to foot. “You’re the best chance we have. Anyway, I’m going to go hide.”
Nutpuncher trotted off into the bushes, which rustled for a moment, then went still. She knew he still lurked inside, but there was nothing to reveal the gnome’s presence.
Her knee had begun to ache by the time a cautious emerald-coated leprechaun crept into view. Darby removed his conical hat, and used the point to probe within the box. After a couple of experimental swings he withdrew the hat with her amulet dangling from the end. Tricky bastard.
Before Kit could even begin a spell Nutpuncher streaked from the bushes, and his fists rocketed into the leprechaun’s groin. The poor fellow dropped his hat and fell into a fetal position as he groaned in pain. “Ohhh…there was no cause for that. Why…so…violent?”
White’s form materialized next to the prone leprechaun, and the necromancer snatched the creature up even more swiftly than Nutpuncher could react. “There we go. I knew giving my class the ability to act first and last every round would come in handy. Now then my little bearded friend…open the door.”
“White, no!” Kit sprinted forward, but it was too late.
“Granted.” The leprechaun offered a mischievous smile, and the door they’d entered through suddenly reopened. “You’ve got two more wishes.”
White’s hands trembled, and his eyes narrowed, and he drew the leprechaun closer to his face. Close enough that their noses nearly touched. “Open the door leading to the next level of the dungeon. Right now. With no delay or tricks. Ensure that I and my companions can walk through unharmed, and warn me of any dangers we might encounter below.”
“Mostly your own ego and ignorance.” The leprechaun rolled his eyes at White. The necromancer had that effect on people. “Brotep’s on the next level and there’s a riddle you have to solve. Fine, I’ve opened
the door.” He waved a hand, and the door on the far side of the meadow opened. “Now how about that last wish? Let’s get this over with so I can be on my way. Husbear and I are doing a Firefly marathon later.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to be late for dinner, my bearded friend.” White stuffed the struggling leprechaun into his pack, leaving one booted foot poking out. “Once I have control of the tomb that wish will be potent indeed. Then and only then will you and your ursine companion don your brown coats.”
Kit realized that, once again, White had won the day. A potion of super-heroism and an extra wish, and they hadn’t even reached the throne room yet.
9
Riddles
Kit exited the glade through the disembodied door, and followed White into a more familiar part of the tomb. The necromancer descended a narrow flight of stairs, which she vividly remembered. The last time they’d invaded this place it had led to Ramen Brotep’s level, and meeting the adoramancer had been one of the more terrifying encounters of her life.
Petrification would terrify anyone. Well anyone except for Bert. The courageous goblin had saved them, though White had taken credit, of course.
She glared at the dark elf as he boldly stepped onto the sand below. A slow tide of kittens came mewing into view, each wearing pharaonic headdresses. A wave of deadly cuteness.
“White, what are you doing?” Nutpuncher demanded, as he slowly backed out of the room. Kit didn’t blame him after having his last character petrified. The gnome knew better than anyone how dangerous the kittens could be.
“I am immune to petrification. It’s a class ability.” He nudged a cat gently out of the way with his boot, and kept on across the sand.
“What about the rest of us?” Crushstuff called, but White didn’t slow.
“Be patient,” the wizard called. “I will return for you after I deal with the dark lord.”
He stopped at the far side of the room, and unsurprisingly Ramen Brotep suddenly rose from the sands, the mummy’s bandages sloughing most of it off. He shook his gold chains to dislodge the rest of the sand, then turned to White with a cough of dust.
“Welcome, adventurers.” The mummy looked vaguely uncomfortable, and delivered the words like a tour guide who loathed their job, and had given the same speech countless times. “In order to pass this level you must face a terrifying riddle. Solve it, and proceed to face the dark lord.”
“Riddle?” White raised an eyebrow. “That makes no sense. This is a petrification room. You are an adoramancer. Why are you asking a riddle?”
Brotep’s shoulders slumped, sending the mummy’s chains jingling. “The new dark lord is an all right guy, but…well, he’s a little bit soft. He says I can’t petrify people any more. He says that I have to ask this stupid riddle, and only let people past who guess the answer. I can’t even rhyme, because he gave me a script I have to follow.”
“Then follow it. What is this riddle?” White’s eyebrows knit together like thunderclouds.
“Trust me.” The mummy raised both hands to placate White. “You are going to hate this. It’s stupid.”
Kit realized that if she couldn’t be petrified, then there was no reason not to play with the kittens. She paused to pet a few, then crossed the room to stand next to White, who was still glaring at Brotep.
“What is the end,” the Mummy began, then dropped his voice to a whisper for the remainder, “of everything?”
“What?” The blood slowly drained from White’s face, a sure sign that his anger had taken root. “Are you serious? That isn’t a riddle. That’s a question. A stupid one at that. You’d better come up with a better one right bloody now, or there will be hell to pay my already bandaged friend. You appear to be quite flammable.”
“Why couldn’t we get a cool riddle?” Nutpuncher groused as he finally tiptoed past the kittens. “You know, like in The Hobbit.”
Kit raised a finger to her lips and tapped slowly, a nervous habit that sometimes produced results. What was the end of everything? No easy solution leapt to mind, but that didn’t mean it was impossible.
“We need to examine the question carefully,” Kit patiently explained as she closed her eyes to focus on the problem.
“How will that help?” White snapped. “They could be talking about the heat death of the universe, or the afterlife. We have no way of knowing without more information.
“This dungeon sucks.” Crushstuff slammed his axe into the sand, which sent up an unsatisfying spray. “It’s all riddles and boring stuff. We ain’t had one decent fight yet. I am soooo bored. What’s the stupid question again?”
“What is the end of everything?” Nutpuncher repeated desolately.
“Forty-two,” Crushstuff supplied. Then tapped his boot with the hammer.
“What,” White broke in, “are you talking about?”
“That’s the answer to life, the universe, and everything,” the ogre explained, blinking stupidly down at the wizard. “We need the end of everything. I think it’s forty-two.”
“Does anyone have a better answer?” White’s hawkish gaze swept the party, but no one spoke up. Finally White turned back to Brotep. “Very well, the answer is forty-two. You’d better be right about th—”
Sand swirled under White’s feet, and sucked him under with a loud belch. He simply vanished. Kit blinked down at the sand where the dark elf had been. He’d been immune to magic, and probably everything else, but the trap hadn’t inflicted any damage. None of his defenses had stopped it.
“Anyone else want to try the riddle?” Brotep’s bandages split over his desiccated lips, and he grinned.
“We need to confer.” Kit tapped her lip again as she considered the riddle. Her increased intellect made thinking easy, and her mind shot down a dozen paths as she considered what the question really asked.
The end of everything. Everything could mean a lot of things, or it could be literal. Most riddles were longer, and gave more clues. A short one didn’t have room to give any context, which made solving it harder.
That made it more likely to be a literal answer. The end of everything. The end of the word everything. Was it that simple?
“I think I have the answer.” She waited for Brotep’s attention to fall upon her. “Is the answer the letter G?”
“Holy…how did you know?” Brotep blinked at her and raised a rotting arm. “You know what? I don’t care. Good answer. You guys can go. I gotta get back to my sandbox…it’s my lunch hour.”
The mummy started to wander off, but Kit waved a hand to get his attention. “Are there any other challenges between us and the dark lord? I mean, that’s if our answer suffices? You can open the door?”
“Of course.” Brotep waved a hand and the wall at the far side of the room rumbled open to reveal a hidden passage. “Beyond you will find the dark lord, if he’s around, or the steward if he’s out doing Bert things. I don’t really pay too much attention.”
Crushstuff took the lead and rest of them trailed after, though Kit couldn’t help but keep glancing over her shoulder for White. There was no way he’d simply give up, and underestimating him was never a good idea.
The ogre stopped outside the familiar oaken door leading into the dark lord’s throne room, which stood open, wide and inviting.
The ogre strode in and Kit followed, with Nutpuncher just behind her. A roaring fire blazed in the hearth on the far side of the room, warming her pleasantly.
The warmth didn’t last.
The air popped and folded to the right of the throne, and the spell resolved into White’s robed figure. There was no sign of the leprechaun, but the fury on the necromancer’s face suggested it had ended badly for the poor fellow.
Thankfully White wasn’t focused on her. He’d turned to face the throne, and she’d never been so thankful not to be the object of his attention.
The throne was occupied, but not by Bert, or even Boberton. No, it was Bumbledork, her old headmaster. He sat there humming to himsel
f as he paged through a large leather-bound tome.
“Headmaster,” White snapped, gathering the old man’s reluctant attention. “Where is the dark lord?”
“Hmm? Oh, you want Bert.” The Headmaster closed the book and set it on his lap. “He’s away on a matter of some urgency. Apparently a green meteor fell from the night sky, and landed in the forest. The dark lord has gone to speak with the elves there.”
“Then that would make you acting dark lord, yes?” White raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
“Indeed.” Bumbledork gave a proud nod, which caused his lengthy beard to waggle a bit.
“Crushstuff, end him, please.”
“’Kay.” Crushstuff raised his axe, and brought the flat of the blade down atop the mage’s head. The defenseless old man stood no chance as the ogre’s weapon crushed him into the throne.
Kit winced, but was grateful the execution had been mercifully quick. Headmaster Bumbledork had always been awarding points to Griffingate, unfairly in most cases, and living up to his heavily biased headmaster trope.
“Clean this up, Kit. I want to sit on my new throne.” White strode to the window to survey his kingdom, and she moved to the throne with a sigh.
Nutpuncher met her gaze pointedly, but she shook her head. Not yet. They needed an opening before they acted.
10
High Elves
Bert panted with effort as he used his trusty crowbar to free the wagon from yet another root. The journey down the mountain had been swift, but after a half day in Keeble Forest he’d begun to consider leaving the wagon behind.
Boberton sat licking himself with both heads, as he couldn’t do much but make the situation worse.
One final shove jostled the wheel loose and Bert gave a triumphant whoop. “Okay, boy. Bert is ready!”
Boberton stood back up, and cautiously stepped forward. Righty peered over his shoulder to make sure the wagon didn’t get stuck again, and then they threaded back onto the forest floor.
