The Dark Lord Bert 2 by Chris Fox (bookstand for reading .TXT) 📕

If the adventurers showed up soon enough they might bring gold with them. Perhaps he could use that to pay the monsters.

21

Kit Goes Home

Kit and Nutpuncher arrived in Humboldt County to find a terrible mess and an empty town. Every building and tree along the shore was deserted, and a chill wind blew off the lake and through the torn pavilions.

“Where did all the elves get off to?” Nutpuncher trotted ahead, and leapt up to the top of a pine tree in three hops. “I don’t see anybody. Like, at all. Not a single elf moving in that town.”

Icy fear gripped Kit’s heart. She had no idea what to expect, but Bert’s trail led through that town. It passed right by…was that a small wagon? Elves didn’t use wagons, as they were impractical in a forest. Kit approached it cautiously, but there were no traps, and no ambush. Where had all the elves gotten to?

The wagon had been constructed from stray refuse, which meant it had almost certainly been made by Bert. Why would he have abandoned it? Bert was never wasteful, but if something had threatened the elves then perhaps he’d needed to flee in a hurry.

Kit once again cast the Ghostly Trail spell, and the version of Boberton bounded off into the forest…directly toward a volcano in the distance. “Oh, no.”

“What’s the matter?” Nutpuncher spun in a slow circle and scanned for threats.

“It’s nothing. I think Bert is headed to Mount Dhuuum.” She started toward the tree line. “It will take days to catch him. I was just hoping he was here is all. Every day we delay is one more day White has to murder hobo his way through a kingdom I for one am very attached to.”

The gnome seemed to buy the lie, which was innocent enough. There was no reason he needed to know that walking toward the mountain meant passing right by her family’s tree. They’d be so close that there was no way she’d pass without being spotted. Her mother was remarkably perceptive for a high elf.

Kit walked in nervous anticipation, knowing that sooner or later her mother would make her presence known. They’d gone several miles through the undergrowth when an arrow thudded into the tree directly over Nutpuncher’s head.

Kit stepped from the undergrowth and raised her hands. “It’s just me, mom, and my friend. Please don’t shoot us.”

A lithe elven woman with a bound ponytail as long as she was tall leapt from a branch high above, and swan dived toward the ground, then twisted in air, and landed in a crouch with her bow extended in one hand and an arrow in the other. She replaced the arrow in her quiver, then pulled a vape pen from her pouch and inhaled deeply as she peered at Kit with bloodshot eyes.

“You look great, sweetie.” Her mom coughed once, then exhaled a cloud through her nose. Kit had always found getting high distasteful even if she couldn’t explain why. Some people didn’t like onions. She didn’t like feeling out of control. “Does your friend have a name?” Her mother turned toward the gnome, and squatted down with a smile as if speaking to a child. “And is he hungry? Our tree is right over there, little man, and I have loads of tacos. Like, so many tacos.”

“I like tacos.” Nutpuncher perked up and followed her mother up the trail. He turned to hiss a conspiratorial whisper in her direction. “Your mother is awesome!”

Mom led them to a thick redwood tree, where Kit had been born and spent her first two decades, and led them up the familiar rungs. They ascended to about the middle of the tree, with a fabulous view of the lake in the distance.

“You can have your old room for the night, sweetie.” Her mother paused to draw from the vape pen again as she ducked through the doorway into the kitchen. “Your father went to combat a forest fire, but you know how he is. He won’t be home until he’s replanted an acorn for every tree. Such a hippie.”

Her father was a druid, so that sort of thing was expected. One year he’d shifted into a bear, and forgotten he was a human. They hadn’t worried that he’d been gone so long, but she now had a pair of bear siblings which was incredibly awkward for a were-fox to explain at forest parties.

They followed her mother into her childhood kitchen and Kit moved to sit at the table where she’d dutifully practiced spells every night. She’d been the first sorceress in the family, and both parents had been so proud of their only child. So many memories here.

Her mother escorted Nutpuncher over to the far side of the table, and provided him with a tray full of pre-assembled tacos. The mouth-watering beef, special seasoning, and fresh tomatoes drew her attention, without a doubt. Even though she knew the fried shell would leave her high for hours.

It would be rude not to eat her mother’s cooking. Kit snatched a taco from the tray, and nibbled on one end of it. Nutpuncher jammed half a taco in his mouth, which was quickly followed by the second half. A second taco followed.

Kit took another nibble, and blinked a few times as sudden euphoria slowed time around her. Thoughts became boulders, and she seemed to shrink down in the chair, too small to deal with such weighty things.

Man, this taco was good. She took a larger bite, and wolfed down cheese, and beef, and tortilla. Before she knew it the taco had vanished. She looked around to see if she’d set it down, but it was nowhere to be seen. Had she eaten it?

Oh! There were more tacos. She picked up a second one, and noted that most of the rest had vanished down the gnome’s gullet. His eyes had gone bloodshot, and the pace of taco destruction gradually slowed.

Kit took her time