“I think he’s touched in the head,” answered another. “You know . . .”
“That’s pig-boy,” said another, pointing at Herder with his sword. “He tends the animals and sleeps with them. People say that he’s crazy . . . or stupid . . . or both.”
“HEY,” Stitcher yelled, her anger beginning to overflow, “his name is Herder and he’s not stupid. He’s just different from you, that’s all.”
The soldiers laughed.
Stitcher moved up next to Gameknight and gave him a gentle shove forward as if expecting him to say something to the soldiers.
“What?” he asked.
“Aren’t you going to say something?” the young girl growled.
Gameknight look up at the warriors on the hill, their smirking laughter directed at the lanky boy. It brought forth so many memories of being bullied himself: the ganging up, the innocent shoves, the casual stepped-on foot . . . And when Gameknight thought of all of the bullying he’d suffered in school, it brought back all of his doubts and insecurities. It made him want to just disappear. Suddenly a blocky elbow shoved him in the ribs, bringing him abruptly out of his daze.
“Well?” Stitcher whispered.
“Oh . . . yeah,” Gameknight stammered. “Ahh . . . go check the perimeter for monsters.”
The soldiers laughed again, tossed a few more derogatory grenades at the young boy, then moved off, doing as the User-that-is-not-a-user commanded.
Herder brought his eyes to the ground as Mason glared down at him. A nearby cow raised its head and moo’ed, drawing Herder’s attention. Turning from the big NPC, Herder slowly moved to the cow, putting his hand on its large blocky head and stroking its nose, calming the beast. He then moved off into the darkness, the cow following obediently behind.
“I have to herd the . . . the animals,” Herder muttered to himself as he moved off, apparently instantly recovered from the incident.
The whole incident brought back terrible memories for Gameknight999. The countless times the bullies had shoved him into a locker, or picked him up and put him in a trashcan, or shoved him into the girls’ restroom . . . the many incidents bounced around in his mind like reoccurring nightmares. He hated the bullies at school. Just because Gameknight was smaller than the other kids, maybe a little different, it seemed to make it OK for those boys to pick on him. He hated them.
Why didn’t I stop those soldiers from making fun of Herder? Gameknight thought.
Gameknight looked at Crafter, then Stitcher, avoiding their eyes and judging gazes. He sighed as he looked to the ground, ashamed. Herder’s voice could be heard across the camp as he talked to the animals that he was herding together, pushing them toward the center of the campsite.
“Come on,” Crafter said. “Let’s get this army moving. They will need to see the User-that-is-not-a-user standing at the front being the tip of the spear.”
Tip of the spear . . . ha, what a joke, he thought, but he knew the part he must play. Sighing, he ran toward the center of the camp, Stitcher already three paces in front of him. Her wild red hair streamed behind her like liquid flames as she ran, reminding Gameknight of her older sister, Hunter.
I hope you’re still alive, Hunter, he thought to himself, then shivered as the guilt over not taking the shot that could have saved her, over not having saved his friend when he had the chance, crashed down on him . . . again.
CHAPTER 4
MALACODA
Erebus gazed about the beautiful landscape, tall green trees, rolling fields of lush grass, and distant majestic mountains . . . The scene made him sick. Underground was a proper place to live, in the shadows and hollows of caverns and tunnels, not in this pathetically colorful panorama. The view turned his stomach.
Looking away from the landscape, the King of the Endermen glanced at the vast army of monsters that followed. They were marching across this server, seeking allies that would help them in their quest to destroy the Source. Erebus smiled when he looked at the vast numbers of creatures that were following him. Soon they would all be his to command . . . but not now. Next to him floated a gigantic ghast, Malacoda, the King of the Nether and the commander of this army . . . temporarily. Its pale, bone-white flesh almost had a rosy glow in the light of sunrise. In this lighting, Erebus could clearly see the mottled scars that peppered the monster’s skin, but the scars that resembled tears under those angry red eyes seemed the most vivid.“What are you looking at?” boomed Malacoda, his loud bombastic voice mixed with high-pitched cat-like sounds.
“Nothing,” Erebus replied, pouring in every ounce of fake sincerity he could muster. “Just admiring your magnificence . . . sire.”
The King of the Nether grunted and turned his gaze away from the dark red endermen.
Next to Malacoda was his general, one of the wither-skeletons. The dark bony creature rode on the back of a giant spider; a spider jockey, as they were called in Minecraft. It was similar to its Overworld cousins, a creature made just of bones, but the wither skeletons were shaded black, as if they’d just been pulled from the ashes of a long dead fire, versus the pale white of the Overworld skeletons. Most wither-skeletons carried a sword as their weapon of choice, but this one carried an enchanted bow, spoils taken from their captive. The monster turned its body around so that it faced backward, glaring at their NPC prisoner.
“Again, thank you, villager, for the nice bow,” the wither-skeleton said with a scratchy clattery voice that sounded like a collection of bones scraping against each other, somehow creating tones that formed into words. “I appreciate you giving me permission to use this. I don’t think I’ve ever killed an NPC with such a fine weapon. I look forward to putting an arrow into your sacred User-that-is-not-a-user. He’s insignificant. It will be fitting for him to be killed by a weapon crafted and enhanced by his own friend; it’s wonderfully ironic.”
“Stop your blabbering,” Erebus snapped. “I’m tired of hearing mindless prattle come from your bony mouth.”
Erebus suddenly disappeared and teleported right next to the wither-skeleton general, and the spider on which he rode suddenly jerked sideways as it was startled by his sudden appearance. The abrupt move almost made the wither-skeleton fall from its black fuzzy back.
“Look at her,” Erebus commanded to the skeleton.
He then reached up with his lanky arms, the dark red of his skin standing out against the skeleton’s smoky black bones. Grabbing his head, he twisted it so that he was looking straight at their prisoner, Hunter. She was held by one of Malacoda’s ghasts, the nine snakelike tentacles wrapped firmly around her body. The monster’s pale cubic body floated off the ground, its baby-like face looking straight ahead. Like all ghasts its body was splattered with grey scars that were etched deep into its skin, the most prominent were those under their eyes. The tear-shaped scars stood out on its young and terrible face; permanent markings of a sadness and shame from long ago. The tear-like scars made Erebus chuckle, drawing a glance from Malacoda, the King of the Nether. Malacoda’s glare made all the monsters nearby stand up a little taller, their faces grim with determination. This was Malacoda’s army, and these were his warriors . . . for now.
Squeezing the skeleton’s head just a little, Erebus continued.
“Look at the eyes of that NPC. You aren’t scaring her or killing her spirit or weakening her will to live. All your useless taunts are doing is filling her with more hatred.”
Erebus let go of the skeleton’s head, then teleported next to Hunter, a haze of purple particles surrounding him. He reached up and stroked her long curly red hair, his clammy black hand brushing against her cheek. Hunter tried to pull back, repulsed at his touch, a look of disgust on her face.
Erebus laughed, his characteristic enderman chuckle filling the air. It made Hunter cringe.
“You see, threats do not bother this NPC, nor does the threat of pain or death.” Erebus turned to face the skeleton general and continued. “I know this creature, and I know what she fears. It is not pain o
r agony or threats.”
“You know nothing, enderman,” Hunter snapped, her rage bursting out of her.
“I know everything there is to know about you,” Erebus said, “at least the important parts. And especially, I know what you truly fear.”
“Yeah, and what is that, enderman?” Hunter snapped back.
“A cage.”
Hunter’s mouth fell open in shock as a single tear leaked from one eye.
Chuckling again, Erebus turned from her and looked at the wither-skeleton.
“You see, skeleton, if you want to destroy someone’s spirit, you have to know what really makes them afraid. This NPC here fears a useless life and a meaningless death. She fears having time move on after she dies, and she will have left no mark on Minecraft. We’ve destroyed her village, her family, everyone that knew her, and now she’s going to die in the company of us without ever making an impact on anyone or anything. It will be as if she never existed.” He cackled again and flashed Hunter an eerie toothy smile. “This NPC fears oblivion.”
Hunter shuddered as another blocky tear slowly traced out a path on her dirty cheek and looked away from the dark monster.
“Now stop your chatter and go check the scouts on our perimeter,” Erebus ordered.
“Not yet,” thundered Malacoda’s voice from the head of the column. “I am in command here, and I will tell my general what to do.”
You are in command . . . for now, Erebus thought.
“Of course, your Kingliness,” Erebus said.
The King of the Nether glared at the enderman, his tentacles twitching, then continued. “General, go check the perimeter and make sure all is secure—and stop your useless taunting of the prisoner.”
“Yes, sire,” snapped the general as he spun around and steered the spider out of formation and out towards their perimeter.
Erebus gave Hunter another smile, then teleported to the head of the column, instantly appearing next to Malacoda, startling the King of the Nether for just an instant.
“Don’t teleport right next to me,” Malacoda snapped, irritation in his voice. “I hate it when you do that.”
“I’m sorry your most-worthiness, I didn’t realize that,” Erebus said, a wry smile on his dark face. Removing the smile, he turned to face the ghast. “Can you feel him?”
Malacoda closed his blood red eyes for a moment then opened them.
“No, I can’t feel anything. Can you?”
“Yes, I can still feel the User-that-is-not-a-user, but just barely,” Erebus replied, his screechy voice low, his words solely for Malacoda’s ears. “This new server is strange. There are things going on here that we did not expect, starting with that.” Erebus pointed up towards the pale red sun that had risen up over the horizon. “I saw it change from its normal yellow to the pale red as soon as we came through the portal from the Nether. Some of my zombies and skeletons started to burn because of their exposure to the sunlight as soon as we came through the portal, but then the flames went out as the sun turned red. What do you think did that?”
“Us,” Malacoda said in a proud voice as if he understood this at all. “Our presence caused this server to change and stained the sun from its normal bright yellow to the now pale red. And soon, when we find the Source, we’ll destroy it and cause all the server planes to change.”
“You mean cause all the server planes to die.”
“Of course,” Malacoda answered. “What could be more perfect? Then we’ll take the Gateway of Light into the physical world and show those pathetic users what fear really feels like when we destroy their world and take it for our own. A physical world ruled by the monsters of Minecraft . . . it’s almost poetic.”
It will be even more poetic when I destroy you and take over this rabble, Erebus thought to himself, his wry smile returning.
“What are you smiling at?” Malacoda asked.
“Oh nothing, just imagining what you described,” Erebus lied.
Pausing for a moment, Erebus looked at the terrain ahead of them. The taiga biome spread about before them, with tall pine trees covering the landscape and stretching high up into the sky. Lush fields of grass filled in the space between the conifers, the rolling hills dotted with colorful flowers of red and yellow. The occasional fluffy white wolf poked its head from behind trees and bushes, their playful barks and howls filling the air; it was a terrible scene to behold.
How can these NPCs stand looking at this horrible place much less live in it? Erebus thought. Give me a nice cave, dark and damp with maybe a flow of lava or two in it; now that would be beautiful.
Turning to look behind them, Erebus could see their army following behind the two rulers, a vicious collection of monsters from the Overworld and the Nether all focused on one thing—to destroy Minecraft. A black, diseased-looking trail stretched off into the distance marking where the angry horde had passed, their vile distaste for all living things actually scarring the land. Erebus could see that the black trail extended out into the distance, but was slowly diminishing as the land gradually adjusted to the spiteful hate that was coming from these monsters. The scarred path was slowly fading to an ashen grey as they marched across Minecraft, their presence slowly becoming harder to find.
Good, Erebus thought.
He didn’t want to give the User-that-is-not-a-user any way to track their army. Turning to look forward, Erebus scanned the oncoming tree line, a mountainous biome following after.
“So do you know where they are?” Erebus asked Malacoda, still keeping his voice low.
The King of the Nether glanced angrily down at Erebus, his tentacles twitching, waiting for something.
“Oh yeah . . . Sire, do you know where to find these creatures that call themselves shadow-crafters?”
“When we get near, I will know it as surely as I know myself,” Malacoda answered, a forced sense of confidence in his voice.
“So in other words, no, you don’t know where we are going.”
An irritated cat-like sound came from the ghast as his eyes flared red, the tear-shaped scars under his eyes almost glowing as his anger blossomed.
“The shadow-crafters came to me while I was in the Land of Dreams,” Malacoda said. “They said that they will help us with the destruction of Minecraft, and I believe them. I will find our new allies when I am ready to find them.”
“I can find these shadow-crafters with my endermen quicker than just wandering around,” Erebus boasted. “It will actually be a plan that has some hope of doing something useful, unlike this random walk we’re on. That will shorten this trip and get us into the physical world faster.”
A ball of fire started to flare within Malacoda’s tentacles, his eyes now like two ruby lasers. Erebus knew he’d pushed this foolish ghast a little too far this time.
“Sire,” Erebus added quickly, hoping to stem the tide of his anger, “it would be our pleasure to serve the great King of the Nether in this endeavor, as it was an incredible idea that the great Malacoda formulated. We can find the shadow-crafters and report back to you, if it is your will. The shadow-crafters know how to find the Source, and it will be our pleasure to locate them for you.”
Looking meekly to the ground, Erebus could see the fireball within the mass of writhing tentacles slowly diminish, the orange glow from the burning sphere darkening until the light finally went out.
Malacoda stopped and floated upward into the air, out of arms reach. He then turned to glare down at the enderman. His eyes were bright red, burning with anger.
“Enderman, you take many risks,” Malacoda boomed, his voice echoing across the landscape. Turning, he looked at his massive column of monsters and then back to Erebus.
“I have decided that the endermen will find the shadow-crafters,” Malacoda boomed, his voice resonating across the landscape. “Endermen . . . my endermen,” he glanced down at Erebus and smiled, “go forth and find the shadow-crafters, then report back to ME.” He emphasized the last part with a howling cat-like
sound. “Do not return until they are found . . . now GO!”
Erebus looked across the army at the tall endermen that stood out above the rest of the monstrous horde and gave his endermen a nod. And in an instant, the dark creatures all disappeared, leaving behind a cloud of purple mist that faded quickly.
“Might I suggest,” Erebus said with the necessary meekness to his voice, “that you send out a little surprise for the User-that-is-not-a-user. Let him know that he does not rule here.”
Malacoda grunted and glanced at his spider-jockey general. The King of the Nether nodded to his general, then turned away facing toward the distant mountains again. The general moved to a collection of spider jockeys and spoke in a low bony voice to the monsters. The gigantic hairy spiders then peeled away from the column and headed to the rear, the pale white skeletons bobbing back and forth as the spiders shuffled off, bows drawn and arrows notched. The wither-skeleton watched his Overworld cousins head off toward their quarry, then returned back to his Malacoda’s side.
“They will not return unless they have captured or destroyed User-that-is-not-a-user,” the wither general reported.
The King of the Nether grunted as he watched the expendable warriors disappear over a hill, then turned and faced Erebus. The big ghast gave him a satisfied toothy grin as if he’d been the one to formulate the plan.
How long must I suffer this fool, Erebus thought as he glanced up at Malacoda. He was about to teleport away to look for these foolish shadow-crafters, whatever they were, when one of his endermen returned, materializing right next to him.
“Why have you returned?” bellowed Malacoda. “You were ordered to find our allies and not return until you have been successful. Why are you here?”
A ball of fire started to glow within the tangle of tentacles that hung beneath the King of the Nether.
“Sire, they have been found,” the enderman reported in a screechy voice.
Erebus chuckled, drawing an angry glare from Malacoda as he extinguished the fireball.
Confronting the Dragon Page 3
