Confronting the Dragon

by Mark Cheverton

  As they rode, the rocking motion of the horse nudged him gently toward sleep, and his eyelids started to get heavy. He was tired from the battle to free his friend and from riding all night, but he knew that they couldn’t stop; they had to get back to the army before they reached the second key. And so as he rode, he slowly drifted into that place between wakefulness and sleep . . . into the Land of Dreams.

  A swirling silvery fog seemed to rise up out of the ground, making it appear as if his horse were walking on a cloud. The billowing mist slowly covered the tall grass and bushes, leaving only the tops of the flat acacia trees sticking up out of the vapor. Sitting on his tall horse, Gameknight’s head rode just above the silvery veil, the rest of his body feeling cold and damp. To his left and right, he could see his companions on their horses, but they had a transparent look to them, like they weren’t fully there.

  He was alone in the Land of Dreams.

  Looking around, he scanned the horizon for monsters, not wanting to get surprised here in this silvery landscape. There were no other creatures around . . . he was truly alone. But then Gameknight thought he heard something. Looking behind him, he saw nothing. He was sure he’d heard something.

  “Gamekni . . .”

  There it was again, but this time a little louder and off to the right. Pulling on the reins, he veered to the right, looking for the source. A landscape of tall grasses and strange trees stared back at him. He was alone.

  “Gameknight . . .”

  It was behind him. Spinning, he turned toward the sound, his diamond sword drawn.

  Nothing.

  Snapping the reins, he urged his horse back to a canter as he caught up with his friends. He must be going crazy, because this time he thought it sounded like . . .

  “Gameknight999, are you out there?”

  Shawny . . . it sounded like Shawny, his friend, his only friend in the physical world. He’d helped Gameknight save Crafter’s server what seemed like a thousand years ago. But how could it be . . .

  “Gameknight999, are you out there!”

  Focusing all his Minecraft skill, he concentrated on his computer in his basement. Imagining his hands on the keyboard, he pushed his thoughts and his mind toward the keys. Carefully, slowly, he imagined his fingers pushing on the keys.

  “S . . . H . . . A . . . W . . . N . . . Y”

  “Gameknight, is that you? OMG . . . we’ve been looking for you. Everyone has been . . .”

  It was Shawny. Hearing his voice was wonderful, if you could call it hearing. It was as if the sound was coming from the silvery mist, but also from within his mind. When he closed his eyes, Gameknight thought he could also see the letters in his head, like he was reading the text on his computer screen.

  “Shawny, it is really you or am I just dreaming this?”

  “Of course it’s me. I’m so glad you aren’t dead, you know, after that last battle and all. Where are you . . . what’s happened?”

  Gameknight looked around at the silvery mist that swirled about him and smiled. He’d found Shawny . . . HE’D FOUND SHAWNY! He was so happy . . . and relieved. Maybe he could help.

  “You remember Crafter sacrificing himself in the battle with Erebus and the monsters of the Overworld?” Gameknight said.

  “Sure.”

  “And you remember when I set off all that TNT and kinda got blown to bits?”

  “Of course I remember that. All Users have heard of that by now.”

  “Well, obviously, we didn’t die. We moved up to the next server plane and are still battling to save Minecraft.”

  “We?” Shawny asked. “What do you mean we? Is Crafter still alive?”

  “Yes, Crafter is still alive, but he’s a boy now . . . he respawned in the body of a young NPC.”

  “Minecraft can do strange things,” Shawny said.

  Gameknight nodded his head and grunted an affirmation.

  “So what’s going on now?” Shawny asked.

  “Well, we battled Erebus and Malacoda on the last server, but couldn’t stop them.”

  “Erebus is still alive?!” Shawny snapped.

  “Yep, and his new ghast friend, Malacoda, is even more terrifying,” Gameknight explained.

  “You certainly have a way with people,” Shawny said, laughing. “So where are you now?”

  “We followed Erebus and Malacoda and their army of monsters to this server that holds the Source.”

  “You mean you’re at the Source? What’s it like? What does it look like? Can I see it? What’s your IP?”

  “Slow down, Shawny, this is complicated. First of all, we don’t know where the Source is; we’re looking for it now. Secondly, Erebus and Malacoda are also looking for it, and they have a lot more monsters than we have NPCs, so we’re in pretty big trouble here. I could use an expert strategist like you.” Gameknight paused to look at his surroundings. He could see his transparent friends trudging along on their mounts, Herder’s wolves completely hidden within the silvery mist. Satisfied there were no monsters near, he continued. “Tell me, where are you and what of the other users?”

  “Well, we are in Crafter’s village. You can tell him that all his people are safe. And the other . . .”

  “We?” Gameknight asked. “What do you mean by we?”

  “All the users, they’re here with me.”

  “What? I don’t understand. All the users are there?”

  “Of course,” Shawny said with a laugh. “All of the users heard of your sacrifice. Believe it or not, Gameknight999 is a hero.” Shawny laughed again. “And besides, Crafter’s server is the only one still online. We can no longer get to any other Minecraft server. So if someone wants to play Minecraft, they have to come here. And besides, we aren’t really playing, we’re preparing.”

  “For what?” Gameknight asked.

  “The War,” Shawny answered. “We’ve been seeing all the Minecraft servers disappear. It was the only explanation for what’s been going on.”

  “You were able to get the other users to help?” Gameknight asked. “You know, with all my past griefing, I’m not the most popular Minecrafter out there.”

  “Are you kidding? After that stunt you did with the TNT and blowing up all those monsters like that . . . you’re a hero. Everyone wants to help the great Gameknight999.”

  “What?”

  “Yep, believe it or not, everyone WANTS to help you. So we’re here at Crafter’s village getting ready for the Last Battle. We’re all hoping that we can be a part of it and help to save Minecraft.”

  “I can’t guarantee that I can get all of you here to this server,” Gameknight explained, “but if I can, I will. We will certainly need your help against the massive army of monsters we’re facing.”

  “What do you need us to do?”

  Gameknight thought about it and tried to imagine the Last Battle, but the pieces of this puzzle had not materialized within his head yet. He didn’t know what the battlefield would look like, or how the armies would be positioned, or . . . There were too many unknowns, too many what-ifs. He knew they would have problems with all these monsters, but he couldn’t think of the solution. But then something Crafter had said popped into his mind and made him smile as one of the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place.

  “Here’s what I need . . .”

  And Gameknight laid out the first part of his plan for the Last Battle for Minecraft.

  CHAPTER 25

  JUST BE

  Gameknight emerged from the Land of Dreams to the sound of laughter. Looking around, he found Stitcher looking at him with a gigantic smile on her face.

  “Are you back amongst us again?” she asks.

  “What?”

  “You’ve been mumbling some strange things,” Crafter explained as he moved his horse up next to Gameknight’s.

  “Mumbling?” he asked, confused.

  “You were in the Land of Dreams, right?” Hunter asked.

  Gameknight nodded.

  “You traveled throug
h the Land of Dreams while awake,” she explained with an almost reverent tone to her voice. “Gameknight999, you are now a full-fledged dream-walker, as I am, as my grandmother, Healer, was, and as her grandfather, Wood-cutter was. It is a rare thing to be a dream-walker; few even know of the ability.”

  “It sounds like being a dream-walker runs in your family,” Gameknight asked. “Is Stitcher a dream-walker?”

  Hunter reached up and patted her young sister on the shoulder and shook her head. “No, it is very rare to have more than one in a family with the gift. This has been my burden to bear since I was young, and is now my duty to make sure that the Land of Dreams is safe. For if you are killed in the Land of Dreams, you die for real. It is the duty of the dream-walkers to look out for the accidental visitors to the Land and make sure they are safe . . . as I did when you first dreamed of Erebus in your family’s home.”

  “What?” Gameknight asked.

  “You remember . . . you dreamed that you were back in the physical world, and the monsters of the Overworld invaded your home,” Hunter explained. “You battled with Erebus while I fought with his monsters on the floor above. It was a magnificent battle. My bowstring hummed almost constantly as I took care of zombies, spiders, and creepers. But when I ran out of arrows, I left the Land of Dreams and went back to the waking world where I woke you up by knocking you out of your bed. Do you remember?”

  He nodded. It had happened that first night after they first met Hunter in her village. Reaching up, Gameknight rubbed his neck where Erebus had choked him, though the skin had now healed.

  “So what do I do with this dream-walking ability?” Gameknight asked.

  “You protect those that are in the Land of Dreams . . . it is your responsibility.”

  Gameknight nodded again, considering this new information. Just as he was about to speak, Herder’s voice echoed across the savannah.

  “The army . . . the army, they’re here.”

  Looking up, Gameknight could see Herder ahead of them. He had wanted to ride up front to look for the army. Now waving his long skinny arms over his head, Herder was shouting at the top of his lungs, his wolves all howling with excitement. Riding back to the party, he galloped up to Gameknight’s side.

  “The army is just over the next . . . the next hill. It looks like they are resting . . . resting for the moment. We can . . . we can catch up with them.”

  Gameknight looked up and could see the sun nearing the horizon, the square blocky face seeming to get redder and redder. Wanting to be back within the safety of the army, he urged his horse into a gallop.

  “Come on, let’s get to the army before dark,” Gameknight said to the rest of the party.

  They reached the encampment just as the last edge of the sun’s crimson face dipped below the horizon, lighting the savannah with a deep red that seemed to last only moments before darkness enveloped the landscape. They were greeted with cheers as they rode through the camp, the warriors all calling out Gameknight’s name as if he were some kind of mythical hero.

  “Gameknight999 is here! Beware monsters . . .”

  “The User-that-is-not-a-user will lead us to victory . . .”

  “Our leader has returned . . .”

  The accolades still made Gameknight feel uncomfortable and fake. He wasn’t the real leader here, Mason was. That big NPC was a natural leader, with the confidence and decisive sense of command that made the other warriors feel safe and secure. But Gameknight, he was just a cowardly kid, afraid of what might happen if he made the wrong decision or did the wrong thing. And now that they were back and he could see all the people that were expecting him to keep them safe, the overwhelming weight of responsibility . . .

  “User-that-is-not-a-user!” boomed a voice.

  Turning, Gameknight found Mason striding toward them. Stopping his horse, he dismounted, the rest of their party doing the same.

  “I see you have returned with a guest,” Mason said with a huge smile. “Welcome back, Hunter.”

  “No thanks to you, I understand,” Hunter snapped.

  “We had to focus on finding the last key to the Source,” the big NPC replied. “But everyone is glad to see your return. Many people look up to you. Your skill with the bow has become legendary while you’ve been absent.”

  “Whatever,” she snapped as she turned and stormed away, Stitcher right on her heels.

  “You all should get something to eat before we head out,” Mason explained.

  “Head out to where?” Crafter asked.

  “There is a stronghold ahead, deep underground,” Mason explained. “This is where the Iron Rose has been leading us.” Reaching into his inventory, Mason pulled out the metallic flower and held it out to Gameknight. Its brilliant glowing petals lit up the area as if they were standing in the middle of a blazing supernova. “You should be the one carrying this. Here, take it.”

  Gameknight reached out and took it from Mason’s blocky hand. As soon as he wrapped his own fingers around the stem, he could feel it vibrating as if it were alive. Closing his eyes, Gameknight’s mind was filled with a distant rumbling, like waves of thunder rolling across the landscape. As he put it into his inventory, he could feel the Iron Rose pulling him off to the North, toward the stronghold that lay hidden underground.

  “I want to see where this key is leading us,” Gameknight said as he reached for the reins of his horse.

  “I will show you the way,” Mason said.

  “No, I need to go on my own,” Gameknight answered as he climbed up onto his horse.

  Mason gave him a look of concern then nodded and stepped aside.

  “Get some food, Crafter,” Gameknight said. “You too, Herder.”

  “I can . . . I can go with you.”

  “No, I’m going alone. Besides, you need to see to your herd and make sure all the animals are OK. You have a responsibility and people are counting on you.”

  Herder nodded and knelt to whisper something into one of his wolf’s ears. Then he ran toward the herd, his furry companions in tow.

  “I’ll be back shortly,” Gameknight said to Mason. “Make sure the army is ready to move. We can’t stay out in the open for very long. We make an attractive target for Erebus and Malacoda.”

  Gameknight moved next to the NPC and lowered his voice.

  “Hunter heard their plans. They plan on having us lead them to the second key, then they will strike after we have defeated whatever guards it.”

  “Then we had better get the key quickly and get to the Source,” Mason replied, then moved off, issuing commands to his troops.

  Gameknight headed out of the camp in the direction the Iron Rose was guiding him. He could feel its strong pull from within his inventory; there was no question which way to go. As he left the camp, Hunter suddenly joined him atop her horse. In addition, a cluster of wolves ran with him, the furry animals clearly sent by Herder.

  Gameknight looked down at the wolves and smiled, then turned and glared at Hunter.

  “I wanted to go alone . . . to think.”

  “Too bad. I’m not gonna let you do anything stupid after you just rescued me, so you might as well get used to my company. Now where are we going?”

  “I wanted to see what awaits us at the second key. Mason said that it was in a stronghold, so I wanted to see it.”

  “This sounds like a great idea,” she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

  Gameknight just grunted in reply and rode in the direction the Iron Rose commanded, a group of wolves encircling them. After about ten minutes, they came upon a hole in the ground lit with torches. A squad of archers stood nearby; guards likely placed there by Mason. They all stood tall when they saw Gameknight approach, bringing fist to chest in salute, but eyed the wolves warily. Hunter looked at their snappy salutes, then glanced at Gameknight and laughed.

  “Shut up,” the User-that-is-not-a-user whispered to his friend, then smiled. “I’ve come to look at the stronghold,” Gameknight said to the archer
s as he dismounted, Hunter doing the same. “Has anyone been inside?”

  “No, User-that-is-not-a-user,” one of the archers answered. “Mason marked out the entrance with torches, then had us stand guard until his return.”

  One of the archers looked down at the wolves and laughed, then said something to a comrade causing the other to laugh as well and look toward Gameknight.

  “What is it?” Gameknight asked the soldier. “What are you saying?”

  “I was just saying that Pig-boy apparently sent a few of his best friends with you,” the archer explained. “That was so thoughtful of him.” The warriors giggled and made funny faces in an attempt to impersonate Herder.

  Gameknight growled under his breath and tried to ignore the NPCs, but the comment still made him mad. Glaring down at the soldier, he dismounted and approached the entrance. It was just an innocuous hole in the ground, with steps leading downward. Putting his foot on the first stair, he paused and looked around. All eyes were focused on him, expecting some kind of heroic act or statement from the User-that-is-not-a-user. Gameknight could guess what was down there in the stronghold and the thought of that made him shudder.

  Moving down the steps, he could hear Hunter directly behind him, her confident steps easing his trepidation a bit. They went down maybe thirty steps until they reached the stronghold. It was built, as most of them are, out of cobblestone, with the rare mossy cobblestone blocks here and there. It had the kind of smell you’d expect from something that was ancient and rare, like some kind of treasure that had been sealed away for centuries. It was an odor that spoke of ancient structures with equally ancient secrets held within its shadowy corridors, but that still wasn’t right. Gameknight inhaled deeply and tried to understand the aroma, but it was deceptive and always changing. Shaking his head to drive away the distraction, he continued forward.

  The stronghold was like a maze of passageways, with some tunnels leading to dead ends while others turned around back on themselves, making a confusing loop. Finally finding a long passage, he moved past a chest that held a few bobbles, nothing very important. Continuing on, they came upon something that looked like jail cells. These were enclosures with iron bars across the front and a door rigged to a button on the outside of the cell. Gameknight never really understood why there were always jails within strongholds, but it was something that he’d come to learn was always true.