“Do you promise to save Hunter,” she asked, her voice now choked with emotion.
Gameknight sheathed his sword then wrapped both his arms around the young girl, squeezing her tight.
“I promise I won’t let you down li’l sis’. We’ll get her back.”
And then Stitcher cried for the first time since coming to this land. The emotions that had been bottled up in the young girl ever since she’d witnessed her sister’s abduction; it all poured forth like a torrent of sadness. Gameknight held her as she cried, her body shaking, but he would not let her go . . .
Finally, drained of emotion, Stitcher stopped crying and looked up at Gameknight. Her eyes were red and swollen, almost matching the color of her hair, but there was a look of peace now within her. The ever-present look of anger seemed reduced a little as she wiped the tears from her cheeks.
“Don’t worry,” Gameknight whispered in her ear. “We’ll find her.”
She nodded and then let go of the embrace.
“Why are the shadow-crafters doing this?” Mason asked.
“We don’t know,” Woodbrin answered. “For thousands of CPU cycles, the shadow-crafters and light-crafters have kept Minecraft in balance. But recently a new shadow-crafter arrived. He is strong and he is evil. This new crafter is driving all the shadow-crafters to push the system out of balance. We don’t know why, but we can sense him.”
“What is his name . . . what does he craft?” Crafter asked.
“We don’t know. But whatever he is doing, it’s not good for Minecraft.”
“Can you help us to find the Source?” Mason asked, his voice sounding impatient.
“We cannot tell you where the Source is. But we know that you will need the two keys,” Woodbrin explained.
“The two keys?” Gameknight asked, stepping away from Stitcher and moving to Crafter’s side.
“Yes, there are two keys,” Woodbrin answered. “They will lead you to the Source. We only know the location of the first key, but it will lead you to the second. And that one will lead you to the Source. The first key is the Iron Rose and it is well guarded; we are not certain of the second. You must get these, one at a time, in order to reach the Source.”
“Can you tell us where to find the Iron Rose?” Gameknight asked, his voice now sounding impatient.
“I will not tell you. But I will show you,” Woodbrin answered. “You may need some of us on your journey. We must move quickly. If the shadow-crafters get there before us; all will be lost.” He paused for a moment, his deep brown eyes scanning the faces of all that were listening. “We cannot delay . . . it is time to go, now.”
Gameknight nodded then looked down at Crafter, his bright blue eyes almost matching the majestic blue of the sky. He remembered something he told him on the last server and it brought forth an idea.
“Before we go, can you craft items for us?” Gameknight asked.
“We can only make the things that we improve,” Woodbrin explained. “So I can only make wood. Sandbrin over then can only craft sand, Stonebrin can only . . .”
“I get it, I get it,” Gameknight interrupted. “Do you have a Gunpowderbrin?”
A crafter with yellow hair and a blond unibrow stepped forward. His smock was covered with gray powder that made it look as if he just stepped out of a dust bin. He shook himself and the dust fell to the ground and formed small gray piles.
“I am Gunpowderbrin,” he said in an old gravelly voice.
“What is it you have in mind, User-that-is-not-a-user?” Crafter asked.
“We need sand and gunpowder . . . as much as we can carry.”
“Why?” Mason asked.
Gameknight looked down at Crafter and smiled.
“It was something your Great-Uncle Weaver once said; ‘Many problems with monsters can be solved with some creativity and . . .’ You know.”
Crafter smiled and nodded his head.
CHAPTER 9
HUNTER
The strange silvery mist circled around Gameknight like the coils of a gigantic snake. He just stood there watching the turbulent cloud move closer and closer, as if the snake were trying to crush him. Suddenly, he was completely immersed in the cloud, the shining mist feeling damp on his face and making his skin tingle.
A forest emerged through the mist, rising up through the haze as if it were growing in some kind of accelerated timeframe. Tall pine trees now stood before him, their branches reaching from the tree’s peak to the forest floor. Some of the trees, however, looked devoid of all leaves, the branches bare and lifeless. Gameknight stared at the bald trees and wondered why Minecraft would spawn something that looked so sad and diseased.
As he spun around, the landscape took on a sort of watercolor-ish look, close shapes merging together into a colorful smear as he turned. And then the realization struck him: Gameknight999 was in the Land of Dreams. He remembered talking with Crafter about the Land of Dreams; it felt like that was a thousand years ago. They’d gone through so much since then. What had he called them . . . and then the word came to him: dream-walkers—people that could move through the Land of Dreams. That’s what Gameknight was, a dream-walker.
The last thing he remembered before coming into the Land of Dreams was that the army was on the move. They’d left the village and were heading toward the first key, the Iron Rose. After marching all afternoon, the army had camped by the edge of the river, following it to where Woodbrin had said they would find the Bridge to Nowhere, whatever that meant. He remembered Crafter asking Woodbrin why someone would build a bridge to nowhere, it made no sense, but Woodbrin had said that he would understand when they reached it.
Gameknight had fallen asleep almost instantly when they had made camp, fatigue from the day’s hard march having drawn him into a fitful sleep.
And now he was here, in the Land of Dreams.
He wasn’t sure what it all meant, but he remembered the other times when he’d been with Erebus and Malacoda . . . and those had been painful times. He’d escaped those other dreams because of Crafter and Hunter, but Gameknight wasn’t sure what would happen in this place, on this server.
Instead of just standing around and waiting for some monster to find him and try to kill him, Gameknight did what he did best—he hid. Moving behind a large bush, Gameknight crouched. Scanning the area, he looked for threats. The silvery mist still floated about and made it difficult to see, and this made him nervous. He liked seeing an enemy from far off so that he could drill it with his favorite weapon, his bow. Back on Crafter’s server he had a great bow, with Punch II, Power IV, and Infinity, it was the greatest bow he’d ever made and enchanted, and it had been his favorite. He wished he had that bow with him now.
Suddenly the bow materialized in his hand, the shimmering weapon staining the silvery mist with a bluish hue. Reaching into his inventory, he drew an arrow and notched it into place. Drawing it back, he aimed the pointed end at an imaginary target. The feathers on the end of the arrow tickled his cheek as he drew it back and looked down the lethal shaft. Gameknight could hear the familiar hum that always seemed to resonate from the weapon as if he could hear the enchantment buzzing from within. This was definitely his bow.
Gameknight smiled. But how did that happen?
He just thought it and instantly the bow was in his blocky hand. No he didn’t just think it, he wanted it with all his heart, and being so familiar with the weapon, it was easy to form an image of it in his mind.
Feeling more confident, Gameknight rose and moved from tree to tree, looking about this strange forest. He relaxed his pull on the arrow and let the bow go slack. Turning to look behind him, he was surprised to find a huge mountain. Strange he hadn’t noticed it before.
It was not your normal looking mountain that he was used to seeing in Minecraft. No, this thing had a sinister look to it, with jagged peaks and leafless trees all over the steep faces. The mountain looked like something that had been in a terrible accident, distorted and damaged from the hor
rific forces that fell upon it. The surface of this mountain was completely devoid of life or anything that could be remotely considered beautiful. Everything about it looked dead; there were no grass covered dirt blocks on its surface, no flowers, no bushes. It was just covered with stone . . . cold lifeless stone.
Gameknight shivered. This mountain scared him all the way down to the bottom of his toes.
Scanning the forest, he thought about his sister. She loved playing Minecraft, always wanting to build colorful shapes that expressed her inner joy and love of art. And then there she was. He could see her Minecraft name floating above her head, Monet113, named after her favorite artist. She looked as if she were building something, using colorful blocks of wool, a look of unbridled joy on her face. But something about her did not look real. She had a transparent, silvery look about her, as if she was not really present in the Land of Dreams, but rather she was part of the landscape.
Behind her, Gameknight could see another shape . . . a user or NPC, he couldn’t tell which. But this person did not have a joyful expression on their face like his sister. No, this one looked hateful and angry, as if all of Minecraft were his enemy. Gameknight999 wanted to look away from the vile creature, but something about its eyes made him continue to start. The eyes . . . they were glowing bright white, making the silvery fog around him glow as well. But they were not just glowing with light; they were burning with loathing revulsion for everything around him.
What would make the eyes glow like that?
And then he was gone, disappearing into the mist, his blazing eyes that last thing to fade away. But then suddenly there was a new presence next to him. Spinning, he drew back the arrow and aimed, ready to fire.
“Would you put that away,” a familiar voice said. “You’re being an idiot again,”
It was Hunter . . . IT WAS HUNTER!
“HUNTER!” Gameknight yelled, dropping his bow and enveloping her in a bone-crushing hug.
“Would you quiet down,” Hunter whispered as she shoved him away, “and pick up your bow, you knucklehead. You don’t go anywhere around here without a weapon . . . there are always monsters in the Land of Dreams.”
She drew her own enchanted bow and notched an arrow.
“But you don’t need a bow, you’re just part of my dream,” Gameknight said, confused.
A look of annoyance came over her face, her dark brown eyes almost glowing with anger.
“You don’t understand anything,” she snapped. “It’s a wonder you users can do anything at all in Minecraft.”
Something cracked in the forest, a stick being stepped on. Quickly, she crouched behind a tree, an arrow drawn back ready to fire. Another snap of a twig . . . it was getting closer.
“Get to cover, you fool,” she chided as she motioned to a nearby tree.
Gameknight, confused at what was going on, did as instructed.
But this is just a dream . . . it’s not real, he thought to himself. But then he remembered when Erebus had choked him, and when Malacoda had punched him in the head . . . those felt real, maybe this was too. Crouching, he too drew back an arrow and waited.
The sound of loud breathing started to drift through the forest, a heavy animal panting that was coupled with feet stepping on sticks and leaves . . . it was getting closer. A cracking sound off to the left . . . there was another one, and then another one farther out. Gameknight wasn’t sure where to aim. Moving quickly, he sprinted to Hunter’s side.
“What are they . . . zombies?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she whispered, “but we’re about to find out.”
A snap sounded behind them, and then another and another. They were surrounded. Putting his back to hers, Gameknight watched behind them as Hunter watched the front.
The sounds were getting closer. Gameknight could hear the rasping, guttural breathing of the creatures, a thick sound that made him imagine an armored zombie . . . or maybe a spider. Drawing his arrow back, he aimed at the loudest of the sounds.
Just then something started to show through the silvery mist. It was small and yellow . . . no two things, small and yellow. They looked like they were floating off the ground, gleaming in the silvery light of the Land of Dreams. Another pair of yellow dots appeared in the air shining through the mist, and then another and another. Everywhere Gameknight looked he saw a pair of these glowing things. Drawing his arrow back, he aimed at the closest and readied for battle.
And then the thing stepped forward. A white fluffy head emerged from the mist with two canine yellow eyes staring at him; it was a wolf. More wolves stepped forward, their teeth bared, ready to fight, their backs arched, fur bristling with tension. Gameknight knew that wolves were like zombie-pigmen; if you attacked one, then all would attack. Picking the biggest to be first, he aimed his arrow at the creature’s head, but was surprised when he felt Hunter relax behind him.
“Put down your weapon, Gameknight,” Hunter whispered as she lowered her bow and stood up.
As soon as the wolves saw Hunter they relaxed a bit, their white fur lying flat against their muscular frames. Stepping forward with her bow lowered, she held out her hand to the largest of the wolves, palm down. Snarling teeth disappeared as the rest of the pack recognized Hunter and stepped forward, tails wagging. The animals brushed past him as they walked up to Hunter, rubbing their snow-white fur against her legs, wet noses being pressed against her hand.
“We meet again, my friends,” she said to the wolves as she reached out and ran her stubby fingers through the thick fur.
“Hunter, what is all this about?” Gameknight said as he stepped forward, bow still in his hand, arrow still pulled back.
Instantly, the wolves turned and growled, their yellow canine eyes turning red and focused on the pointed tip of the arrow.
“Put that away,” Hunter said softly, gesturing to the bow and arrow.
Releasing the tension on the string, Gameknight put away the weapon. This made the animals relax a bit, their eyes fading from red back to normal but still focused on him. He could see that their bodies were ready for action, legs bent, backs arched. They were like coiled springs ready to release their energy on him if he made the smallest wrong move.
“Wolf-friends,” Hunter said, still keeping her voice low, “this is my friend, Gameknight999.”
She stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder, then grabbed his hand and held it out for the wolves to smell. The largest of the wolves stepped forward slowly, its yellow eyes glued on Gameknight, then smelled his hand. After a minute of inspection, the big animal licked the User-that-is-not-a-user’s right hand. The pack leader then stepped back and let each of the animals come forward cautiously to collect Gameknight’s scent. Once they smelled him, every wolf looked up into his eyes, a look of surprise in their yellow eyes, then took two steps back and just stood there, staring at the User-that-is-not-a-user. It was like they’d never smelled anything like this before and didn’t know what to do . . . or maybe they did.
“What is it?” Gameknight asked. “Why are they just standing there?”
“It looks like they are confused.” She answered.
“Maybe they never smelled a user before,” Gameknight suggested.
“Or maybe they have never smelled a user that wasn’t a user,” Hunter said with a smile.
Gameknight just grunted his response back to her as he held out his hand for the rest of the pack to smell.
“So tell me about all this,” Gameknight said as he looked about the Land of Dreams. “Can you tell me what happened to you?” And then his face turned a little pale. “Are you dead?”
“You’re such an idiot,” Hunter said. “This is the Land of Dreams, the place between being awake and being completely asleep. You’re a dream-walker.”
“You mean you’re not dead and all this is still a dream?”
“Idiot . . .” she growled. “I’m a dream-walker as well.”
“So you’re not dead?”
“Of
course not,” she replied. “I’m still Malacoda’s prisoner.”
“You’re not dead? Ahhh . . . I mean . . . you’re not dead . . . you’re not dead! I can’t wait to tell Stitcher.”
“Stitcher, my sister . . . she’s here?”
“Yes, she followed you through the portal, as did the rest of the army,” Gameknight explained. “We’re going to stop the monsters and save the Source . . . and of course rescue you too.”
“She’s OK?”
“Of course she is,” Gameknight answered. “Crafter and I are taking care of her. She’s safe.”
Gameknight could see the stress drain from her face as she processed this news; her sister was safe! Hunter sighed and smiled a huge joyous smile that lit her face, a small boxy tear leaking from one eye.
“Tell me what’s going on with you, and what this place is,” Gameknight asked.
“Well, Malacoda has me prisoner. They just stopped here at the foot of this jagged, dead-looking mountain.” She looked up behind her at the crooked, jagged peak that rose up out of the mist. The twisted spire rose up at least a hundred blocks, made of bare stone, the trunks of leafless trees dotting its surface. “Once they found this mountain, they were met by a bunch of NPCs that were all dressed like crafters. But there was something not quite right about these NPCs. They looked evil somehow, evil and dark . . . I don’t know. But I heard them say that they were . . .”
“Shadow-crafters,” Gameknight interrupted.
“That’s right, shadow-crafters, whatever that means.”
“Did you get any names?” Gameknight asked.
“The one that came out to meet us was called Ghastbrine,” Hunter explained.
“That means that he works on ghasts, making them stronger, faster . . . better,” Gameknight explained. “That’s what the light-crafters explained to us. These shadow-crafters work on things that live in the shadows. It could be stone, or lava . . . or it could be monsters.”
“And these shadow-crafters are helping Malacoda and Erebus,” Hunter said. “This is not good.”
Gameknight paced about, lost in thought. Brushing past the wolves he walked out into the clearing, Hunter staying where she was behind the bushes and trees.
Confronting the Dragon Page 7
