The Dragon: An Official Minecraft Novel

by Nicky Drayden

  Minecraft: The Dragon is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2021 Mojang Synergies AB. All Rights Reserved. Minecraft and the Minecraft logo are trademarks of the Microsoft group of companies.

  Published in the United States by Del Rey, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

  Del Rey is a registered trademark and the Circle colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

  Published in the United Kingdom by Del Rey UK, an imprint of Cornerstone, a division of Penguin Random House UK.

  Hardback ISBN 9780593355732

  International edition ISBN 9780593359037

  Ebook ISBN 9780593355749

  randomhousebooks.com

  Book design by Elizabeth A. D. Eno, adapted for ebook

  Cover art and design: M. S. Corley

  ep_prh_5.7.0_c0_r0

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Endpapers

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  By Nicky Drayden

  About the Author

  CHAPTER ONE

  Zetta hid behind a cactus at the edge of the town square, waiting for the last few townspeople to finish up work and return home for supper. The shadows in the desert town of Sienna Dunes were growing long as the sun dipped low in the sky. The sand beneath Zetta’s feet started to cool, and the breeze suddenly became crisp as the heat of the day drained away.

  Zetta bundled up the collar of her blue tunic with one hand and kept her other hand firmly against her leather pack, which held her entire inventory of glass bottles, nether wart, and her prized brewing stand. She was the greatest potioner Sienna Dunes had. Well, she was the only potioner Sienna Dunes had. One day, however, she would be great, but first she needed to practice, and to practice she needed to fill these water bottles without getting caught.

  In the middle of the town square stood a sandstone tower with small windows cut all the way to the top, and at the highest point hung a big brass bell to rally the townspeople in case of an emergency. In the bell tower’s shadow sat the town’s only well. Water was scarce and highly valued in the desert, and taking more than your fair share was frowned upon. If people saw Zetta filling her bottles up too often, they’d get suspicious and start poking around in her business. She couldn’t let anyone find out she was experimenting with potions. Not yet. Especially not her father.

  Zetta watched carefully as all the shop owners in the square began to pack away their outdoor displays. The grocer put away her fruit stand, carefully storing away the melons and berries and exotic apples for the next day. The owner of the slime shop bundled up his slime balls and shoved his display of slime cubes into a chest.

  And on the north side of the square, right near the town hall, the bookshop vendor sighed as he flipped through the last few pages of a book, then placed it back onto a lonely bookcase. Apparently, he used to run a whole library, until the people of Sienna Dunes lost their curiosity about the world and got stuck in their ways. Now the old library was a cactus nursery. Like Sienna Dunes needed any more of those.

  Finally, the square was nearly clear. Zetta ran over to the well and stood next to it, trying not to seem suspicious and failing badly. Her hands were shaky, and her eyes were darting all over the place. Carefully, she slipped her hand into her pack, pulled out a glass bottle, and uncorked it. Just as she was leaning over to fill the bottle, Zetta heard footsteps clomping in the sand, getting closer. She straightened up and shoved the bottle back into her pack, then looked to see Mayor Maxine walking right toward her.

  “Another beautiful evening in Sienna Dunes,” Mayor Maxine announced to no one in particular. She stood tall and dignified, and she smelled of the kind of delicate flowers that would instantly wilt under the desert’s harsh sun.

  “Very beautiful,” Zetta quickly agreed. “I’m just sitting here, enjoying the breeze.” And definitely not trying to steal, er, borrow, um…take a little water to make potions in a town that doesn’t think too highly of potioners.

  “And the wall is coming along nicely, if I do say so myself. I appreciate your work in the terracotta mines. It’s people like you who keep this town safe.” Mayor Maxine looked down at Zetta in the kind of way that said, Why yes, I am the mayor. Thank you for noticing.

  Zetta became instantly aware of the orange terracotta dust that covered her brown skin. She felt the grit upon her eyelashes. In her coily black hair. In her socks. She inhaled so much of it during her mining shifts that she wouldn’t be surprised if she one day sneezed out an entire terracotta brick.

  “The wall is impressive, all right,” Zetta said through clenched teeth. In truth, she thought the new wall being constructed around the town was an eyesore. But mining terracotta for the mayor’s pet project had earned Zetta enough emeralds to afford a brewing stand, so she couldn’t complain too much.

  “Keep well, citizen,” Mayor Maxine said, and then she was off with a hasty walk that was more like a horse’s trot.

  Zetta breathed a sigh of relief. She turned around and quickly filled her bottle. She didn’t even understand what the big deal was. The well never seemed to run low. Once she’d helped her grandpa fill ten whole buckets and the water level hadn’t even gone down an inch.

  Zetta startled when she felt a touch on her shoulder, and she nearly fumbled the glass bottle into the well. She caught it at the last moment, then turned to see her father standing there, barrel-chested and fierce with a strange kind of charm. He was the kind of guy who crowds parted for.

  “Dad! I—” Zetta’s tongue suddenly felt too large in her mouth. She needed an excuse. Something quick, so he wouldn’t ask too many questions about the water bottle.

  The town’s blacksmith had her store set up right across from the well. In the storefront window behind a “No Enchantments” sign, dozens of weapons and tools were displayed, made from both stone and iron. Zetta knew for a fact there were diamond tools, too, but those were kept locked up safe in the back.

  “I was just about to check on the price of an iron pickaxe,” Zetta blurted out. “I’ve been thinking of ways I can be more efficient in the mines!”

  The stern look on her father’s face crept into a thin smile. His eyes sparkled. “Finally getting serious about the job, eh?”

  Zetta almost felt bad about how proud her father suddenly seemed of her. She was the daughter of the
mining foreman, so everyone expected her to love mining and be as good at it as her father was. But mining was the last thing on Zetta’s mind right now. It was pretty much always the last thing on her mind.

  Zetta cleared her throat. “Um, gotta go before the shop closes. See you at supper!” Then Zetta ducked inside the blacksmith’s and pretended to browse the iron pickaxes she couldn’t afford. She watched through the window as her father milled about the town square, always moving, but never in a hurry.

  No way would she be able to fill her bottles at the well with him out there. She could try her grandparents’ farm. That came with its own risks, but Zetta didn’t have much of a choice now. She waited until her father got caught up in a conversation with the mayor, then darted out of the shop and sprinted toward the south end of town.

  The farm was a little oasis in what was otherwise sand and grit in the desert town of Sienna Dunes. Sugarcane stood stiff in the breeze, while the green tops of carrots swayed gently. Chickens clucked as they paced around their coop, eager for their next meal of seeds. A scarecrow made of some old fence posts, a hay bale, and a jack-o’-lantern stood guard over Papa Night’s personal potato patch, which was noticeably larger than the potato patch that fed the rest of the town.

  And not twenty feet away, Zetta’s cousin Ashton swiped his stone hoe feverishly at the waist-high wheat shafts that had somehow managed to grow in the desert heat. He had to be nearly done with his chores by now, Zetta thought. She was running out of daylight, and she needed water. Plus now that she was here, maybe she could gather a few more ingredients for her potions.

  Zetta had faith in herself that she wouldn’t mess up this time. Her eyebrows had nearly grown all the way back from the disastrous explosion she’d caused during her first attempt at brewing. And now, she was pretty decent at brewing awkward potions, though the only thing they were good for was stinking up her bedroom for an entire day.

  Finally, Ashton gathered up all the fallen wheat into his inventory, replanted the bare spots with seeds, then turned and headed off toward the chicken coop. Zetta breathed a sigh of relief, then kept crouched as she snuck toward the little wheat field that kept the desert town supplied with crusty bread loaves, and sometimes cakes and cookies. The familiar sand beneath her feet turned to brown soil, mushy and cool despite the beating it took from the sun.

  Zetta tiptoed through the wheat until she reached the minuscule stream that served as irrigation. As Zetta knelt down next to the water, guilt started to worry her, so she reminded herself that she wouldn’t take much. Just enough to fill the three bottles she needed to practice her potion of swiftness. She hoped she’d have more luck with a simpler recipe.

  The potion of invisibility she’d made last night hadn’t looked quite right and she’d been too nervous to test it out. Maybe the nether wart had gone bad. The stuff smelled somewhere between rotting mushrooms and a sweaty armpit, even when picked fresh, so it was hard to tell. Same for the fermented spider eyes, which Zetta kept in a chest all by themselves, since they were so awful to look at and always seemed to stare back at her.

  The sugarcane Zetta needed for the swiftness potion was clear across the farm, and Ashton was right in her way, chasing a couple chickens that had escaped from the coop. It didn’t take him long to lure them in with a handful of seeds, though. Ashton had a way with animals. Every pig, sheep, and chicken loved that kid. And he was especially loved by Ginger, the town’s only cow. Unfortunately for Zetta, that was because Ashton was keen on giving each animal lots of love, and now he was sitting cross-legged, petting each chicken in turn and humming a little song to them.

  A song that seemed to go on for an eternity.

  But Zetta had to wait him out if she wanted to get the sugar. The sandstone homes of Sienna Dunes were packed so closely together that Zetta could have leaned out of her window and into one of her neighbors’ to ask for a cup of sugar. Her neighbors were nice, and though they didn’t have much, everyone always shared what they could. But they also gossiped like their lives depended on it, and the last thing Zetta needed was them blabbing to her father and him discovering she was messing around with magic. Then he’d have to tell the mayor, and the mayor would give her a very stern talking-to, reminding her of the importance of living a simple life, free from the distractions of things like potions and redstone and enchantments and pretty much anything interesting.

  Which was kind of why the new wall bothered Zetta so much. The mayor said it was for keeping hostile mobs out, but other than husks and skeletons and the occasional pillager raid, Sienna Dunes was perfectly safe. Zetta suspected the wall wasn’t so much about keeping mobs out as it was keeping people in. There were so many interesting things outside of their little town, but not many people had dared to leave it. Zetta’s aunt Meryl was one of them, but Zetta barely remembered her, since she hadn’t been much more than a toddler when Aunt Meryl had run off to the mountains to the north.

  Finally, Zetta got an idea. Probably a bad one, but if she really was going to be Sienna Dunes’ greatest potioner someday, she might as well start believing in herself right now. Instead of waiting out her cousin Ashton, she could use one of her invisibility potions to sneak past him, unseen. She took a glass bottle out of her inventory, the liquid inside shimmering a pale lavender.

  It looked pretty enough, but when she uncorked the bottle, the pungent smell hit her immediately, making her gag. After a few deep breaths, she gathered her senses, pinched her nose, and gulped down the whole thing. Her entire body tingled like she was being tickled by a swarm of silverfish. Was this what magic felt like? Had her potion worked? Was she invisible?

  She waved her hand in front of her face, but didn’t see anything. An eerie feeling surged through her: a wobble in the pit of her stomach, like she was standing on the edge of a steep cliff.

  She stood up in the wheat field, no longer shielded by the golden brown shafts. Now she could safely sneak past her cousin without risking getting caught. If he saw her, he’d tell their grandparents, and they’d tell Zetta’s dad, and she’d be done for. But now she was safe. She crept her way through the wheat field, then the potatoes, and kept going until she was walking behind Ashton. How long would the potion last? Zetta wasn’t sure. She was still a novice at potion making—a noob, as her cousin would say. Still, she was excited and couldn’t believe this was working.

  “Who’s a good chicken? Who’s a good little chicken?” Ashton asked as he petted the bird beneath her bright red wattle. “Salma is! Yes, she is!”

  Salma clucked and flapped her wings.

  “And who’s the sweetest little chicken in the whole Overworld?” he cooed at the other chicken. “Nella is! She is for sure!” Nella nuzzled against Ashton’s chest. “She’s the sweetest—”

  Ashton stopped, turned around. He looked straight at where Zetta was standing. She went as still as cobblestone and held her breath.

  “Ummm…Cousin Zetta?” Ashton asked.

  Oh no. Her cover was blown. “You can see me?” she asked, disappointed.

  “Uh, yeah. Some of you. Your head.” His big brown eyes were wide as saucers. “It’s just kind of floating?”

  “I must have rushed the brewing,” Zetta mumbled. “Or I didn’t use enough nether wart. Don’t tell Nana and Papa I was out here, okay? Promise me?”

  “I promise I won’t tell…if you let me go on your next mob-hunting trip.”

  Zetta sighed, then made her way toward the cow pen for a bucket of milk to undo her sloppy potion. Ashton ran along behind her.

  “You’re too young to be out in the middle of the desert in the dark,” Zetta said. “Maybe when you’re older you can—”

  “You’ve been saying that same thing since I was eight! Now I am older. I’m ready!”

  “I know you think you are, but it’s really dangerous out there,” Zetta mumbled as she grabbed a spare bucket and opened t
he gate to Ginger’s pen. The cow spooked as soon as Zetta entered, though, her being a disembodied head and all. Ginger ran clean across the pasture. Zetta didn’t speak cow, but she was sure that Ginger’s aggravated moos meant Zetta shouldn’t bother making an attempt to sidle up next to the poor creature.

  She looked at Ashton. He was almost a teenager now. Thin, but nearly as tall as she was. Head full of black curls and kind eyes and a fast mind. He was still naive in lots of ways, head off in fantasies, talking about poison-breathing dragons and fiery blazes and ghastly ghasts, and always sketching them in that tattered old notebook of his. Those were the imaginary creatures the adults made up to keep kids scared and too afraid to venture far from home.

  Zetta didn’t believe in that sort of stuff anymore, but she had to admit her cousin was getting older, so maybe it was time to start including him in her adventures with her friends. She sighed again, then handed Ashton the bucket. “Okay, get me some milk and promise not to tell Nana and Papa I was here, and I’ll talk to Rift and Rayne about including you in our next outing. I can’t promise they’ll be happy about it, but I’ll talk you up real good, okay?”

  “Deal!” Ashton said.

  Zetta extended her hand to seal the deal with a handshake, which of course was useless since her hand was invisible. Ashton didn’t notice her gaffe, couldn’t have noticed it, and he sprinted over to Ginger. He took a moment to calm the cow down, then came back a minute later with a bucketful of warm milk.

  Zetta guzzled it, feeling the magic gradually drain from her veins, and then she was herself again, a hundred percent opaque all over. It’d probably be a good idea to keep some milk on hand for any future mishaps, though she was quite sure things would go more smoothly from here on out. She returned the bucket to Ashton. He was all grins, but she didn’t want to push her luck and ask for a bit of sugar. The swiftness potion would have to wait another day.