by Chris Fox
Bert woke up humming to himself. He leapt to his feet with a yawn, then reached into his pack for another box of cookies. Bert laid them all out in a row, then moved to poke Boberton awake. “Hey, boy. Breakfast!”
Bert kept a single one for himself and jammed the tasty fudge confection into his mouth in a single wonderful bite. It was rather nice not having to pack up the wagon or hook up Boberton’s harness. There was almost no camp to break down.
Instead Bert, mighty wizard Bert, summoned his dark magic. “Dirt mittens!”
Rocks and dirt flowed up from the ground, and swirled around his hands into an excellent set of mittens. Bert moved over to the strange rock, which sat there placidly, and began pushing it toward the mountain once more.
The rock was heavy, but Bert had carried packs full of copper coins. At least he could roll the rock.
They’d covered a lot more ground than he’d expected the previous day, made possible because he could endlessly erase the fatigued condition. Bert had never dreamed how much you could get done when you never got tired.
However, Bert also felt uncomfortable cheating. So each night, when he reached camp, he dutifully added back the fatigued condition, and then slept against Boberton’s soft warm fur.
Bert pushed the rock past trees and boulders, and over a stream, which proved quite a lot of fun as the magic stone produced steam that tickled his nostrils.
Boberton trotted after him the entire time, Righty’s concerned expression fixed on Bert, while Lefty looked everywhere, delighted by all the new things.
The day passed pleasantly, and Bert realized he hadn’t had to solve a single problem for someone else since he’d left Bobertown. It was wonderful! He was only responsible for himself and his dog. He might have been a tad lonely, as Boberton wasn’t a great conversationalist, but other than that Bert couldn’t have been happier.
As the day passed there were fewer and fewer trees, and more and more rocks. The slope began to rise, and Bert was covered in a nice coat of stinky sweat. Now that he had the clean spell he wouldn’t even need to bathe, either! Life was indeed good.
Bert pushed the boulder up another slope, but when he paused realized that he wasn’t alone. A dozen large green-skinned orcs sat atop their mounts sheltering beneath a rocky outcrop. They rode pigs with big tusks, who didn’t seem to much enjoy being ridden. Bert wouldn’t want an orc on his back either.
“Oy! You!” The lead orc guided his pig over with his knees. The pig wore a tight harness that cut into its skin, and seemed to constrict breathing. “Why you pushin’ that rock? Da bois think we should tie you to it, and push it back down the hill. We think it would be funny to watch you get squished into little goblin goo.”
Bert had never been so offended. How rude! A year ago he’d have run away, but now he was a dark lord. He was not going to put up with this.
“Bert think you should apologize, right now.” Bert placed his hands on his hips as his mum would have. That had always terrified him. Perhaps it would work on orcs. They had mums too, he imagined. “Bert powerful wizard. Don’t mess with Bert. Just get out of Bert’s way before Bert get mad.”
“Or…and stick with me for this one…or we bash your face in and take that pretty green rock?” The leader urged his pig forward, and blocked Bert’s way. “I think it don’t belong to you anyway. You probably stole it. Da bois and I are gonna hang onto it, until the proper owner comes looking. Then we’re gonna kills ‘em, and eats ‘em too. Just like we’re gonna do to you.”
Bert didn’t dive behind Boberton, though the dog could probably have protected him. He didn’t feel the slightest need to run away, which was a strange feeling indeed when you only have one hit point. For the first time Bert had power. He could fight back.
“Bert going to use magic on you.” Bert gave them one last warning, but the orcs only laughed. Boberton began to growl behind him, so Bert turned and offered a pat. “Is okay, boy. Bert will fix.”
Bert rolled up his sleeves and narrowed his eyes. He waggled his fingers and toes, and looked right at the pig the orc sat upon. “Pig be orc!”
The magic rippled out over not just that pig, but all the pigs. Every orc’s mount began to grow and swell. Their limbs lengthened, and their snouts shortened into orc noses. In a few moments a dozen new naked orcs stood in the clearing, their harnesses now on the ground in piles at their feet.
The boss orc gaped openly as he stumbled back to his feet from where his mount had dropped him, but Bert had only just begun his work. He narrowed his eyes still further, which became a problem as it meant they were closed entirely. He opened them just a bit…still a scary squint. “Orcs be pigs.”
Bert used the magic on all the orcs wearing armor. One by one they began to change, and within moments a whole new herd of plump pigs had appeared. Their armor and weapons fell away, and lay in heaps on the ground.
“New orcs!” Bert rose to his tiptoes, and tried to look menacing. “Take weapons and armor. Can ride those pigs. Seem like good mounts.”
The former pigs began nodding to each other, and gathering up the newly created pigs. They picked up the very same harnesses they’d worn, and applied them to their former masters. Bert was rather proud of them.
“Come on, boy.” Bert turned back to the rock, and began pushing it further up the hill. The raucous laughter of orcs, and the alarmed squeals of pigs slowly disappeared behind them as Bert and Boberton made excellent time up the mountain.
He could see the lowest cave now, the one that looked like a mouth, and realized they’d probably reach it soon. Would it be safe to go inside? Maybe not.
They continued up the trail, but paused before a sign with hastily scrawled letters. Bert guessed the orcs had probably made it, and now that Bumbledork had taught him to read he could make out the letters. There was a D and then an H, and then a whole bunch of Us, and them an M. He translated for Boberton. “Sign say Mount Dhuuum.”
At the precise moment Bert uttered the word the mountain rumbled, and a river of molten lava began flowing down the side. It seemed very messy, and terribly inconvenient for anyone who might be lunching up there.
He decided they’d come far enough for the day, and that perhaps it would be smarter to make camp and climb the mountain in the morning.
Bert looked around until he spotted a cleft between two boulders. Not quite a ravine, but then it was just him and Boberton with no wagon and they didn’t need much space. “Into the hole, boy!” Bert pointed at their camp.
The dog hopped into place, turned in three precise circles, then settled down into a comfortable spot. Bert climbed up the dog’s side, and set his tiny pack down on the dog’s rather ample belly.
“Bert still full from last cookie. Boberton hungry?” Both heads shook no. The cookies were clearly magical if they could keep Boberton from wanting more food.
“Okay, Bert get ready for bed.” He peered up at the sky as he unrolled his blanket. “Bert miss Kit. Somewhere out there she probably watching, under same bright star light. Hope he meet her again soon.”
Bert curled up on Boberton and hummed to himself until he fell asleep.
16
Following Bert
Kit enjoyed the hike into the woods where her character had been born even as she dreaded arriving in Humboldt County. Lush evergreen trees, redwoods, and flavors of pine carpeted a vast expanse of land, the entirety of the region on the opposite side of the Moist Mountains, which had proven quite well named.
Travel had been easy so far. Most of the annoyances she’d accumulated in traveling with her party had been White’s doing. Without him and Crushstuff, they managed to go an entire day without killing anything. Or littering.
Nutpuncher spent most of his time roaming a bit ahead of her, and exploring the forest, as the monk never seemed to run out of energy. That left her in blessed solitude, and for the first time in what felt like forever she took on fox form and ran through the undergrowth.
Ferns batted playfull
y at her face as she ate up the forest floor, just another woodland creature that would draw no one’s attention. Her sprint carried her onto a game trail that paralleled a stream, and a few trout even splashed in the water.
Kit bounded over it, then raced along the stream bank as she surged after the faintly glowing trail her spell still revealed. Boberton had passed this way not one day ago, as the occasional large paw print in the mud attested.
The prints came closer together, suggesting the dog had broken into a sprint. Kit galloped beside the trail, which led to a towering redwood. The scent of chocolate billowed from windows a quarter of the way up the tree, laced with a sharper scent, pungent and all too familiar.
“Wow, that smells really good.” Nutpuncher’s head popped out of a nearby fern. “Do you think they’ll give us some?”
Kit rippled back into elf form, then mounted the first step spiraling up to the front door. “They’ll happily feed us. Just a warning…be careful how much you eat. A single Lembass cookie can feed you for a whole day.”
Nutpuncher hopped from step to step behind her, and she wished she could relax into the adventure and just have fun. The gnome got there so effortlessly, the way she’d used to do.
Kit could make out singing as they approached, or humming to be more accurate. She reached the door just as it opened, and a blond elf maiden that could have passed for her cousin blinked out at her. “Oh, hello. Please…come in.”
The woman moved away from the door, and gestured at the interior of the tree house. Two other elves were working with dough and laying out trays of cookies for the oven, while the woman carried an axe that looked like it might be used for firewood.
The maiden wore a tie-dyed shirt with rainbow patterns, and the type of tinted sunglasses that had become iconic in the 1960s. Kit sighed, but under her breath, and tried not to fault whomever had created the “high elves”.
Behind the woman a still smoking bong sat on the table next to a half eaten tray of cookies. Mouth watering cookies. Kit ignored the growl of her stomach. “I apologize for showing up unannounced. We’re searching for a friend of ours. A tiny goblin. Have you seen him?”
“I don’t think so.” The woman blinked blankly in Kit’s direction. “I’d remember a goblin, I think.”
“Are you certain?” Kit shoved her hand into her pocket, where it balled into a fist. She mustn’t lose patience. “There are paw prints down below from his dog, Boberton. A big demo dog with two heads.” She had no idea how large Boberton had gotten, but if the tracks were any indication, he’d grown very large indeed.
“Oh.” The woman blinked at her over the sunglasses, exposing her bloodshot eyes. “Yeah, I remember the dog. He ate a TON of cookies. We sent down couple dozen trays.”
“Thank you so much.” Kit released a tension she hadn’t known she’d been holding. Bert had been this way, and they couldn’t be terribly far behind him. “Do you know where he was going?” They could follow the trail, but knowing a destination might mean she could get them there faster with magic.
“I don’t remember. They might have said.” She turned back to the pair of elves making cookies. Well one of them was making cookies. The other sat eating batter out of a bowl with two fingers, eyes just as bloodshot as his companions. “Hey, do you guys remember where the dog was going?”
“To the capital.” The elf with the bowl got out around the half of his hand stuck in his mouth. “The lake.”
“Wonderful.” The tension returned.
“Isn’t that good news?” Nutpuncher had remained silent, and Kit had assumed he wasn’t paying attention.
“It is.” She didn’t feel like explaining that her family lived in the capital. There were elves there that would recognize her, and while she might not have any real attachment to them she’d have to roleplay, and that might mean indulging their…lifestyle. She turned back to the elf woman. “Thank you for your time.”
“Don’t you want some cookies?” She plucked one off the tray she’d been eating from and offered it to Kit.
“I’ll take one, thank you.” Kit accepted the cookie, and wrapped it in a handkerchief as she stuffed it into her pack.
“I’ll take five.” Nutpuncher hopped from foot to foot. “And one for right now if that’s okay.”
The elf woman hummed as she fetched the cookies. High elves loved feeding other people even more than they enjoyed being high, cooking, and eating.
“Here you go!” She handed Nutpuncher a little sack, which he slung over his shoulder. “Best of luck on your travels. Hope you find the dog. I can’t even imagine how big he’ll get after that many Lembass cookies.”
A terrifying thought. Kit gave a little wave, then guided Nutpuncher back outside. They threaded back down to the forest where she didn’t even need a Ghostly Trail spell.
Boberton’s wide prints trotted next to the stream bank, and were quite easy to follow. By tomorrow they’d have reached the capital, and even if she had to deal with family Kit couldn’t wait to be reunited with her little friend.
17
The Eye of Soreness
Bert pushed the rock up and down many hills, mostly up, and remained thankful for his ability to remove the fatigued condition. This would have been an exhausting adventure if he’d had to sleep every time he got tired. Plus, he and Boberton still had a supply of cookies, which hadn’t been vanishing nearly as quickly as Bert would have expected.
Boberton barely ate anything at all, just a few cookies each evening, and yet he had so much energy. The dog pranced around Bert as he pushed the rock, but was very careful not to get close. Bert had told him it was dangerous, and Boberton was a very good listener.
Despite the fact that pushing the rock wasn’t that difficult Bert had begun to find it rather boring, so he made for the largest cave, which also happened to be the closest.
A tremendous orange glow came from within, and Bert could feel the heat, which was much greater than that the rock produced. It boiled the sweat right off Bert, which meant he wouldn’t even need his clean spell.
“Okay, boy, let’s see if someone lives here.” Bert waddled forward as he pushed the rock up over the lip and into the cavern.
The ground within was smooth black glass, and it appeared the tunnel he’d entered was some sort of lava tube. In the distance he could see that the tunnel descended, and ended at the edge of a curious wall.
Bert pushed the rock into a corner, removed the fatigue condition one last time, and approached the wall. It was different from the lava tube. This one had been shaped. It was too flat, and someone had made marks with a chisel.
He crept around the wall, which opened into a narrow hallway. Bert squinted down at the sandy floor within, but there were no footprints. It didn’t appear that anyone had passed by recently.
The tunnel was wide enough for the rock to fit through, but too small for Boberton, which meant that Bert would have to leave his friend behind.
“Boberton.” Bert turned back to his furry friend. “Stay here and guard rock? Make sure no one touch?”
Lefty nodded dutifully, but Righty had fallen asleep again. It had been an awfully long hike and Bert could scarcely hold it against the dog.
Bert plunged into the corridor, and hurried along the sandy floor until it arrived in a massive cavern. The entire floor was filled with pathways, and after a moment he realized he was looking at a labyrinth.
“Bert fly!” He drifted up over the maze, and zoomed past it to the far side. If he had designed it he’d have given the maze a roof to prevent people from cheating precisely as he was.
Bert reached the far side of the labyrinth, which followed a wide stairway ending at a cliff overlooking a pit of lava. Bert crept toward the oppressive heat, and froze when he spied movement high above.
About halfway up the volcano’s shaft floated a large disembodied eye…made completely from flame. It stared down at Bert like a maiden might eye a rat, and Bert believed that if the frightened eye could ha
ve climbed out of the volcano and run away it probably would have.
“Bert sorry,” he called up apologetically. “Bert come into mountain to hide bad rock. Not know you live here. Hope that okay.”
The flaming eye blinked down at him. It didn’t resemble a person’s eye. Their pupils were round, and most definitely not made from fire. This eye was made from fire, and the pupil was a single slit, like a dragon, or a cat, or a…floating eye.
“Oh, ah, hello,” the eye thrummed, though it wasn’t clear where the words came from. “I’m terribly sorry, but you startled me. I’ve been alone for quite some time. I didn’t expect visitors. Welcome to Mount Dhuuum. I am the Eye of Soreness.”
“Bert’s name Bert.” He pointed at his chest to indicate himself. “Bert Dark Lord of Tomb of Deadly Death.”
“You said you wanted to hide a rock?” The eye leaned a bit closer, and the heat became even more oppressive than the lava. “This is a perfect place to hide ancient magical treasures! Why I’ve forged all sorts of things here. Rings mostly. I ran a pyramid scheme for a long time, but it kind of went tits up once they figured it out. The elves were pretty pissed, and the men? Well they can hold a grudge even worse than those furry-footed bastards.”
“So Bert can hide rock here?” Bert hadn’t tracked all of that. Something about making pyramids, but the important thing was whether or not he could hide the rock here, and that he might have made a new friend.
“Of course!” The eye bobbed up and down, then blinked in what appeared to be pain. “Oww, that smarts.”
“What Eye’s problem?” Bert wrung his hands. He didn’t like the idea that the poor eye might be in pain.
“Well, I’m on fire, you see, which is a bit of a problem.” The eye winced as it explained. “But never you mind that. I’m just excited to see this place become a proper dungeon again. It hasn’t been used like that for ages. Say, do you mind if I contact some friends? We could do a little dungeon-warming party. More hands make light work, especially when you don’t have hands.”
