by Chris Fox
After nearly a dozen campaigns he would finally succeed where every other character had failed. He would plant his boot firmly on this world’s throat, and then he would crush the silliness, and the life, right out of it.
23
Escape Goat
Kit leaned heavily on her staff, which gripped the granite as they climbed higher into the foothills. Mount Dhuuum loomed darkly above them, an ominous streamer of black trailing into the sky as if the volcano were considering whether or not to erupt.
The caves along the western slope had been carved to resemble a skull with an open mouth, but a variety of rocks and branches had been recently added to convert the scream into a welcoming smile. If she weren’t absolutely certain she’d been tracking Bert, then that told her for sure he must be inside.
That and the horse-sized Boberton wagging his tail with so much vigor that the demo dog’s hindquarters swayed. Righty was asleep of course, but Lefty had perked up and was giving joyous little barks in her direction. He remembered her!
“That dog isn’t going to be a problem, is it?” Nutpuncher had dropped into a combat stance, but Kit put her hand up.
“Oy!” an orc voice boomed from behind, and Kit turned to see a war party mounted on decidedly miserable looking pigs. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Kit’s hand twitched, but she resisted the urge to throw a fireball. Orcs were generally terrible creatures, but she’d learned early on in her career that it was almost always better to talk where possible. If they put dialogue in the story, then it usually meant there was a reason.
“Into that cave, I think.” Kit pointed over her shoulder, and noted that Nutpuncher had turned around to support her. Boberton had stopped barking as well. “I’m here to see an old friend of mine. His name is Bert. Are you going to try to stop me?”
“Goodness, no.” The orc waved at her as if that was the silliest thing he’d ever heard. “We just wanted to make sure you knew where you were going is all. If you’re looking for the dark lord he’s actually out at the moment. Right decent fellow, that Bert. He set us free. Anyway, I guess he’s bringing back a new recruit. In fact, I think that’s him now.”
Kit turned to glance in the direction the orc had indicated—a more polite fellow than expected—and perked up when she spied Bert waddling up the hill. She scarcely recognized her little friend, as the goblin now wore a suit of black plate mail sized to fit him. The visor on his helmet was up, and he had a truly Bertific smile as he hummed to himself.
Bert led a…a goat, of all things, on a rope toward the cavern. He didn’t appear to have spotted her or Nutpuncher yet. She turned back to the orc. “Thank you!”
Then Kit hurried over to the goblin, and by the time she’d arrived the tiny goblin blinked up at her, his mouth a perfect O of surprise. “Kit!!! Where Kit come from? And who friend?”
“We came looking for you. This is my friend, Nutpuncher.” Kit indicated the gnome. “We’ve, ah, come to warn you that the Dark Lord White is back.”
“Not possible.” Bert shook his head, clearly relieved. “White dead. Bert saw.”
“That’s just it. This is a new version of White. Twice as evil and exponentially more powerful.” Kit glanced around her, but there was nothing resembling a chair. “Can we perhaps go somewhere more comfortable to talk?”
“Oh! Bert have elf cookies if hungry.” The goblin moved over to pet Boberton’s leg. The size difference had increased between them. “Boberton has to stay out here ‘cause can’t fit in maze, so usually we do picnics.”
“I got this.” Nutpuncher stepped forward and extended a bro fist to Bert, which the goblin obligingly bumped. “Hey, goblin man. Name’s Nutpuncher. I punch nuts. You’re welcome to party in my hut. I’ve got some cocoa to go with those cookies.”
Nutpuncher produced his tiny hut, and set it up on the ground outside the maze. It swelled in size as it had before, and Nutpuncher opened the door for all of them. “Everyone’s welcome.”
Kit headed gratefully inside, and took a spot on the couch. Bert came in next and joined her, but his trek from the door to the couch and then up onto the cushion was a truly epic journey.
Boberton couldn’t quite fit through the doorway, so the dog settled down outside with Lefty’s broad face filling the doorway. Had he grown since she’d arrived?
“Bert, how many Lembass cookies have you fed Boberton?” Kit shifted uncomfortably on the couch.
Bert held up his hands and counted all the fingers, then raised both feet and counted the toes. When he’d completed the process he gazed up at her. “Four hundred and eleven.” Then he looked at the dog, who’d begun gnawing on another cookie. “Four hundred and twelve.”
“Bert…even if you stop feeding him now I think Boberton is going to be bigger than this hut within a few days.” She expected that to worry him, but Bert’s face split into a grin.
“Boberton get really big? Yay! Bert so excited. One day Bert can ride dog across whole world in like…half a day.” The goblin’s armor clanked as he moved to the edge of the couch to smile at the dog. “Boberton good dog! Can have as many cookies as you want.”
Kit began to laugh. There was just something so wonderfully innocent about the goblin, made amusing by the fact that he had enormous amounts of power at his disposal.
A terrified bleating came from outside, and she craned her neck to the window to see Boberton playing with Bert’s goat. She simply had to know.
“Bert, why were you bringing that poor creature into your dungeon?” She shivered as a thought flitted through her mind. “You weren’t going to…feed something were you? Like a t-rex? What’s going to happen to the goat?”
Horror bloomed in Bert’s expression, but it was cut off as the visor to his armor fell down and obscured his vision. It also made his breathing sound oddly raspy. “Bert protect goat so goat protect Bert from magic. Bert not clear on how it works, but need escape goat in case adventurers come. Advisor say so.”
Kit considered that, but without speaking to the advisor it would be like playing a game of telephone. She resigned herself to not understanding. Perhaps it would be used in some dark ritual.
Her hand came up almost of her own accord to stifle a yawn.
Bert shot to his feet, and clutched tiny gauntleted hands to his breastplate. “Bert so sorry. Guests probably tired. Bert will return to dungeon. Kit and new gnome friend can sleep, and tomorrow we talk about Dark Lord White.” Bert raised a fist in a very un-Bertlike fashion. “Bert will deal with White. White not hurt friends. Not any more.”
Kit hoped he could succeed where she had failed. They would need a plan, of course, but she could work on that in the morning. One more yawn, and she fell asleep on the couch.
24
Breakfast
The following morning Kit arrived in Bert’s cafeteria, adjacent to the labyrinth, to find most of the monsters already having breakfast. She joined the back of the chow line behind a brown-furred nuppet. A big one…the creature stood nearly as tall as she did.
“B is for brownie,” the nuppet patiently explained to the mummy standing behind the counter. “Give Brownie Monster brownies.”
The mummy turned desiccated eyes down at its trays of food, which included fluffy scrambled eggs, pancakes, sausage, and potatoes. The mummy glanced up again, and gave a helpless shrug as bits of wrapping fell off its arms into the gravy. No gravy then.
“Not have brownies?” The nuppet’s eyes went watery, and it glanced around the room for some sort of support. Kit felt a little badly for the creature.
“Wait!” Bert’s tiny voice came from the far side of the room as the goblin waddled up. “Bert can fix. Bert do magic. Watch! Bert cast spell.” The goblin rolled up his sleeves. “Make brownies!” Bert pointed at the table next to Brownie Monster, and a plate full of steaming chocolate brownies appeared.
The nuppet dove on the plate like a starving man, and pieces flew everywhere as he greedily devoured the contents. Not a s
ingle brownie survived the onslaught, but by the time it had finished Brownie Monster sank into a chair and began rubbing his belly.
Bert wore a contented smile as he joined the back of the line behind Kit, then took a tray full of eggs and pancakes. She did the same, with some sausage, and then joined Bert at one of the tables. He climbed into his chair with great dignity, and she noted that he seemed to have matured since the last time they’d adventured together.
“Kit like pancakes?” Bert smiled up at her, then stood in his chair and seized the syrup with both hands. He poured a generous portion over his entire plate, and then sat down to happily gnaw at the contents.
Kit did enjoy pancakes, though she was much more judicious in her use of syrup. Bert got it everywhere, on his arms, face, and head. It was like he was trying to bathe in it, but somehow it made her smile. Even simple acts like eating were tremendous fun for the little goblin.
“Bert finished!” He leapt to his feet in all his syrup-covered glory. “Did Kit know Bert can do magic now? Watch! Bert clean!”
Kit recognized the spell he used, and both hands began to glow as the goblin tidied up his face and clothing. Not only did the spell amuse her, but it also relieved her as it showed that Bert had real power. Maybe enough power to somehow stop White.
She set her fork down, her appetite having deserted her. Time to get back to business. “Bert, are you ready to talk about White?”
Bert slowly sat down in his chair and nodded somberly. “Bert ready for details. First, any word about Paradise? Bert worry about mum.”
“I don’t know.” Kit shrugged apologetically. “You could scry on her to find out.”
“Bert check spell points.” Bert peered off into space as if seeing something she couldn’t, then his gaze refocused. “Okay, Bert can do.” He inhaled a deep breath. “Show Bert what mum doing!”
An image of a goblin matron with a rolling pin in one hand and curlers in her hair appeared over the cafeteria. The woman led dozens of goblins through caverns, and the woman bellowed orders, though they couldn’t hear any words as the scrying provided no audio.
“Bert so relieved.” He wiped his hand along his brow, and then waved the scrying spell away. “Mum is okay. Goblins okay.”
“The rest of the town isn’t.” Kit bit her lip. “White has killed pretty much everyone, except for the shopkeepers.”
“How powerful White? What class?” Bert rubbed his tiny hands along his black armor.
“His own unique class.” She plucked one more piece of pancake from the plate and tossed it into her mouth. “He’s more powerful than ever, but I have no idea what he can do.”
“Bert need to see character sheet.” Bert began to pace back and forth across the chair. “If Bert can see, then maybe Bert can figure out how to beat.”
“I don’t think it’s worth risking.” She shook her head as she considered everything she knew about White. “He’ll have defenses prepared, and if he catches you the dark lord trope will only make him stronger.”
“Hmm, good point.” Bert stopped pacing. “Kit hasn’t asked Bert why Bert come here.”
“Why did you come here?” She chewed thoughtfully. They really were wonderful pancakes.
“Bert find magic sky rock.” Bert lowered his voice and glanced around to make sure none of the other tables were listening. “Bert hide deep in mountain. Rock make people crazy.”
“Crazy? Is that what happened to the high elves?” Kit swallowed the last bite, and leaned forward to hear the answer. A magic sky rock? Perhaps it was some sort of adventure hook.
“Yes!” Bert clapped his cheeks with his palms. “Elves went crazy, and kill each other to reach rock. When elves touch rock they go POOF. Gone. Bert hide rock so no one try to get.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you did.” Kit dabbed at her lips with a napkin, and then sipped from a glass of orange juice that had somehow appeared before her. “White would probably do terrible things with a rock like that. So how do you think we should handle this?”
“Hmm.” Bert scratched his chin as if stroking an imaginary beard. “Bert think we go to Bobertown. Shopkeepers still there, right?”
Kit nodded.
“We stay at monster shop.” Bert pointed at Nutpuncher. “You run recognize the fence.”
“What?” The gnome blinked in confusion.
Kit couldn’t help but smile when she realized what Bert was trying to say. “I think he means he wants you to run reconnaissance.”
“Yes!” He hopped up and down. “Gnome sneaky. Run recon. Then meet with Bert’s spymaster. Find out what going on. Then we make plan and stop White.”
He made it all sound so easy, and even though she knew it wouldn’t be, the goblin’s little speech had somehow inspired her. “When do we leave?”
Bert hopped from the chair down to the floor. “Bert will go get packed! Leave as soon as Kit and gnome get outside. Boberton will be ready too.”
25
Whiteworld
The trek back to Bobertown passed entirely too swiftly. They made excellent time through the forest, and even retrieved Bert’s wagon as they passed through Humboldt County.
Kit spent most of the time in fox form running next to Boberton, while Bert and Nutpuncher rode in the wagon. She’d have preferred to chat with them, but the wagon was too small for that, and besides…this was the last chance she’d probably have to frolic around in a forest.
It had been good coming home, in spite of her nervousness, and she’d enjoyed relaxing. Now the threat of their urgent mission hung over them, and she spent as much time worrying about White as bounding over flowers.
The first sign of the penultimate wizard necromancer was the ominous black clouds in the sky. They dominated the horizon beyond the Moist Mountains, and the closer they came the more angry those clouds appeared. Black and grey, and ready to disgorge frigid rain on the town beneath.
Kit tried to press back the guilt when they came up the pass into the Moist Mountains and finally laid eyes on Bobertown.
The dog rumbled to a halt next to her, and she shifted back to elven form as they surveyed the town. The walls had been painted black, and the tomb had been replaced with a much larger, much more ominous keep. “My gods, he’s completed the upgrade.”
“What mean?” Bert moved to the wooden slats of the wagon and pressed his face between the bars.
“Something White always wanted to do.” She shook her head, and began using her staff as a walking stick as they continued down the other side of the pass. The hike had been more exhilarating than tiring, but seeing that eyesore sapped the energy from her. “It might make getting inside more difficult.”
“Hmm.” Bert nodded sagely, and stroked his imaginary beard. “Bert will factor into planning. Bert have to stop White. This…Bert have to stop White.”
More guilt. Kit nodded and shifted back into fox form, mostly to avoid further conversation as they picked a path down the mountainside. They’d arrive just as the sun went down, an ominous time to enter an ominous town.
No travelers moved along the road, dead or living. The town may have been upgraded to a keep, but it was as quiet as a tomb. Of course, White was likely in there somewhere building something nefarious.
They slowed as they reached the bridge leading into town, and the first thing she noted was that the Bobertown sign had been replaced. In its place had been hung a meticulously carved sign which read ‘Whiteworld’.
“Why aren’t there any guards?” Nutpuncher pressed his face between the bars next to Bert’s.
“Mmm.” Bert blinked several times, then smiled as he seemed to realize something. “White probably send out undead to get more people. No one stupid enough to attack Keep of Deadly Death, right? Don’t need guards outside. Guards will be there, but inside maybe. Bert can find out. Spymaster will know.”
Kit was greatly interested in meeting this spymaster fellow. She envisioned some sort of rogue, like the were-cougar they’d worked with bef
ore.
Bert guided Boberton across the bridge, and led their little party into the gloomy town. He took a path that brought them very near the keep itself, but as Bert had predicted they saw not a single guard.
The goblin urged Boberton toward the merchant district, and made for the monster shop. The demo dog, who’d grown a bit since they’d left the forest, stopped outside the shop, and Bert threw a rope ladder down the side of his wagon.
Kit shifted to elven form, and their little party quickly entered the monster shop and shut the door behind them, though Boberton was now too large to fit through the door, and instead hunkered down outside the window.
The same kindly old man, bespectacled and a bit stooped, smiled out at them from behind the counter. “Ah, young fella, you came back! Still got that dark lord trope, I see, and your demo pup friend. I see he’s still growing. Hope that’s been a satisfying transaction.”
“Yes! Bert very happy with dog.” Bert hopped up and down on the floor, miles below the counter.
“Why did White spare you?” Nutpuncher moved to the counter, and fixed the shopkeeper with a suspicious stare.
“I can explain.” Kit raised a hand. “White wants to make sure his keep has every amenity it can, because some of the upgrades he’ll be seeking have prerequisites. Shopkeepers will always be safe, even if White is the only person he allows to shop.”
The shopkeeper nodded confirmation of that. “We’ve been spared, a few of us at least.”
“Bert hoping you can give us news.” Bert adopted a more serious expression. “What White doing?”
“Oh, I’ve kept my eye on things.” The shopkeeper shuffled over to a stool and sat heavily. “Not hard to do with almost no one in town. White sent his ogre friend with an army of undead into the swamp. They went after the trolls.”
“That’s pure foolishness.” Kit rolled her eyes. “Everyone know trolls are only trying to waste your time. Why else live in a swamp?”
