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 himself 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
