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

kill them and animate them both. White hoped that Nutpuncher was with them. The gnome hadn’t proven as loyal as Crushstuff, but he had been a friend for a long time, and was useful in a fight.

Once Kit was dead the gnome would be bored, and would likely come back to the fold. Then White would have a full adventuring party once more, and could properly enjoy subjugating the rest of the world.

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