The Dragon: An Official Minecraft Novel

by Nicky Drayden

  “Definitely!” they said in unison.

  “So it’s settled then?” Zetta asked, extending a hand to her cousin. “You’ll help us find this…” The word didn’t want to come out of her mouth again, but she forced it. “…this ender dragon.”

  Ashton stood up, tall and proud, and shook Zetta’s hand. “This is going to be so awesome,” he said. “Come on, follow me!” And then he was sprinting out of the cave like he’d never been injured at all. His eyes darted back and forth, searching the woods, looking for breaks in the foliage and branches that indicated something had passed through.

  They waded across a stream full of salmon and trekked through a grove of giant dark oak trees. The canopy was so thick, the sun barely penetrated through the leaves. The forest floor was damp and cold, and the day was dragging into night, but every time Zetta thought Ashton had lost the dragon’s trail, he’d spot a tree trunk missing a chunk or a big bush with a baby dragon–shaped hole punched through the leaves. Finally, they heard shuffling and grunting and a familiar purr.

  Zetta held her shovel up, ready to entice the baby beast. “Who’s a good little beastie?” she called out. “I’ve got your stick!”

  Footsteps came toward her at a steady gallop. Heavy footsteps—and when the dragon broke through the undergrowth, everyone scattered and headed for cover. Rayne climbed up into a tree. Rift hid behind a boulder. Zetta dropped the shovel and took shelter behind a tree trunk.

  “I thought you said this thing was the size of a cow,” Rift said, head popping up from behind the boulder for a quick look.

  Zetta took another peek as well. The beast was as big as one of those ravagers now, bulkier and with a longer tail and massive claws. It still had those big puppy dog eyes, though, and it sniffed the air, content to be playing whatever game it thought the friends were playing. Zetta gulped.

  She wasn’t sure how the dragon had grown so much, but this definitely wasn’t a game.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The dragon sniffed out Rayne first, then stood up on its hind legs and pushed at the tree with its front paws, mouthing a low-hanging limb. After a couple of playful shoves, its claws were tearing into the trunk, sending wood blocks flying in all directions. Its giant flapping wings weren’t enough to get it off the ground, but they did stir fallen leaves and sticks and dirt into miniature vortices.

  Zetta tried to call the dragon away, but terror had twisted her tongue in a knot. She didn’t have a whole lot of experience with trees, but surely it would collapse, its leaves tumbling down around Rayne like falling sand. But the tree stood tall, despite missing half its trunk.

  Ashton picked up the shovel Zetta had dropped and approached the beast. Zetta’s fear for Rayne hadn’t even subsided yet, and now here she was, getting a second dose, seeing her little cousin exposed to this unpredictably destructive creature.

  “Ashton Alexander Night,” Zetta said under her breath, thoroughly feeling like her father, “I swear you better step away right now before—”

  Ashton extended his upturned palm to the dragon. “Who’s the best ender dragon in the whole Overworld?” Ashton cooed at it. The dragon turned toward him with a big goofy grin on its face. It licked Ashton’s palm, then his face, leaving a gloopy trail of slobber behind. Ashton didn’t even flinch. He waved the shovel in front of the dragon, and its tail started wagging, smashing the earth beneath it.

  “That’s a good dragon,” Ashton said, petting its long black snout. He lifted the shovel up as high as he could, standing up on his tippy-toes. The dragon kept a keen focus on it, and as its head tilted up, its rear end hit the ground. “Yes, goooood sit,” Ashton said, then let the dragon nibble on one end of the shovel.

  The dragon calmed. Ashton stroked behind the little gray horns protruding from the top of its head, and one of its hind legs pattered softly against the earth.

  “See, nothing to be scared of,” he said to Zetta. “We need to give it a name.”

  “We are not naming that thing,” Zetta said. She remembered what her aunt had said about naming the rabbits. She didn’t want to get attached to the dragon. Eventually, Aunt Meryl would return home and she would have to send it back to wherever it was supposed to be.

  Zetta came out from behind the tree. Rift emerged from behind his boulder. Rayne decided to stay perched in the precariously standing tree, bow at the ready.

  “I don’t understand,” Zetta said. “How did it grow so fast?”

  Ashton shrugged. “It’s hard to say, but I bet it molted. Its scales are still damp. There isn’t exactly a lot of documentation on the ender dragon. And I’m kind of certain the endermen don’t keep a lot of archives in the End.”

  “The end of what?” Rift asked.

  “The End. One of the portal worlds. It’s where endermen come from.” Ashton took out his notebook and flipped it open to a page that said What I know about the End in big block letters, and below, in smaller script:

  Where endermen come from

  Has no water

  Surrounded by void space (watch where you step!)

  Possibly home of a creature called the ender dragon

  End cities??? (Reed says he thinks I can get elytra there so I can fly. I really want to fly!)

  Zetta stared at the little sketch below the list of Ashton soaring through the sky with wings on his back, kind of like that cape Aunt Meryl had worn. Then she slammed the book shut and shoved it back at Ashton. His imagination was getting out of hand.

  The End sounded like a nightmare. Endermen freaked Zetta out big-time. How they just blinked from one place to another without regard to space and time. The friends spotted them once in a while on the outskirts of town. They kept to themselves, mostly, though sometimes they helped themselves to interesting blocks. There was a legend in Sienna Dunes that an enderman had once run off with the town’s only grass block, way back before Zetta was even born.

  “I think I see something,” Rayne said, still up in the tree. They pointed toward a clearing in the woods. Rift trotted over to where Rayne was pointing and then ducked behind a stone outcropping. Zetta couldn’t see him anymore. A whole minute passed without him saying anything.

  “Rift?” Zetta called. “Is everything all right?”

  “Rarg!” Rift said from behind Zetta. She turned and saw another ender dragon behind her. She nearly screamed, but then beneath the thin shell of a dragon skin, she saw Rift, smiling mischievously.

  “Punk!” Zetta shouted, punching him in the shoulder.

  “Sorry. Couldn’t resist. But isn’t this cool? It’s the molting Ashton was talking about.” Rift laid it carefully on the ground. The smoky gray skin was thin and translucent and was cracked in some places, but mostly it held the shape of the baby dragon Zetta had seen hatch.

  “ ‘Creepy’ is the word I would use,” Zetta said, poking it with a stick. “How much bigger is this thing supposed to get?”

  “Um…” Ashton said, stepping back and looking at the dragon, holding his arms out and framing the beast between his fingers, assessing it. “Judging by the size of those massive paws, I’d say big. Really big. I mean, it is a dragon. They aren’t exactly known for being petite.”

  Rift dared to stand right next to Ashton in front of the dragon. He reached out a tentative hand and stroked its snout. He pulled his hand back still attached, so Zetta decided to try the same thing. The dragon snuffed when she reached her hand out, though, and turned its head away before she could pet it.

  “Still a little sore about the cave?” she asked it. “No worries. I get it. But I did bring you new friends like I promised.”

  The ender dragon ignored her and went back to gnawing on the end of the shovel.

  “Are you coming down?” Rift called up to Rayne, still in the tree. He punched another piece of wood out of the trunk. “You know, we could gather up a ton of wood and tak
e it back to town. We could sell some to the blacksmith for her tool handles.” He punched another piece from the tree.

  “Stop that!” Rayne said, their voice trembling. “I’ll be down in a bit. I’ve just…I’ve got such a good vantage up here, and I—”

  “You’re scared. Admit it,” Rift said.

  “Nope, not scared. Just cautious. Someone has to keep watch, you know. And I spotted that molted skin, so…you know. Hanging up here for now. And stuff.”

  Zetta smiled. Rayne was the bravest of them all, but somehow that wasn’t so with this dragon.

  “Yeah, keep an eye out,” she said encouragingly. “And find a different tree to punch, Rift. We can’t take the wood back, though. People might start asking questions about where we got it. But we can use it to build a shelter here. I think this clearing would be a good place for us to set up camp with the dragon. We’ve got good tree coverage for privacy, and nearby streams and food sources. Plus my aunt’s place is close enough that I can keep an eye on it while she’s gone.”

  So that evening, they planned everything out. They’d take shifts with the dragon so it wouldn’t be by itself, with Zetta and Ashton taking the first shift and Rift and Rayne returning home.

  “Look,” Zetta said to Ashton. “I’m not going to even pretend to know anything about animals, especially ones that are supposed to be imaginary, so why don’t you and the dragon just play together or something.” Zetta took a seat where the clearing turned back into forest. She crossed her arms and watched as Ashton goofed off with the frisky beast. Zetta really needed to get back to her aunt’s place to clean up the dragon’s mess, but she didn’t want to leave Ashton alone with the dragon.

  He used the wooden shovel and heaps of praise to teach the dragon some simple tasks. In twenty minutes, it could sit on command and could stay for a whole forty-five seconds before the zoomies got the best of it and it had to chase Ashton around. Then Ashton started working on having the beast lie down, but every time he got the dragon nearly to the ground, it would stare Zetta in the eye and snuff at her.

  “Um…” Ashton said with possibly the biggest grimace on his face that Zetta had ever seen. “I think it doesn’t trust you enough to put itself in such a vulnerable position. Do you mind giving us a little more space?”

  Zetta sighed. If only she could explain her motivations to the dragon, maybe it would forgive her for walling it up in the cave. But she needed to gather wood for their shelter anyway, since Rift had lost interest in punching trees as soon as it didn’t involve terrorizing his sibling. So Zetta headed into the woods to give it a go, found a suitable tree, and struck it square in the trunk.

  Ouch.

  After Zetta had knocked down the second tree, her knuckles were completely splintered. She was starting to wish she’d asked Rift for a recipe to make an axe before he left. She wasn’t used to working with wood.

  They were lucky to find sticks in the desert, let alone a whole tree. She couldn’t imagine how easy building would be back home if they had all this lumber at their disposal. Zetta constructed a basic shelter with two small bedrooms and a larger common area. She cobbled together a furnace as well and stoked it with some wood planks to keep the place toasty once the sun set. She’d task Rayne with hunting when it was their turn for a shift, but in the meantime, Zetta filled a chest with all the food and water she had on her.

  From within the privacy of the rustic shack, she was able to spy on Ashton without spooking the dragon. Ashton would tell the dragon “Stay,” then walk behind it and hide the shovel behind a tree, and the dragon would sniff it out. They had such a great bond already, which made Zetta a little jealous. She was the one who’d found the egg, after all, and accidentally cracked it. She was the one who’d braved the desert and the hostile woods to get to her aunt’s house in the first place. Zetta rubbed the bee stings on her arm from when she’d first gone up the mountain. They still stung, but not as much as getting snuffed at over and over again by the dragon.

  When it looked like Ashton needed a breather, Zetta headed back out to offer him the last slice of Aunt Meryl’s pumpkin pie. As she neared, she heard her cousin saying, “Where’s Meechie? Where’s Meechie?” in that cute, high-pitched voice.

  “Meechie?” Zetta asked. “I thought we agreed we weren’t going to name the dragon.”

  “Don’t worry, Meechie is the shovel,” Ashton said. “We named it.”

  “We?” Zetta said.

  Ashton winked at the dragon. The dragon flared its nostrils and grunted like an out-of-tune horn. “It’s an inside joke. Oh, is that pie for me?” He grabbed the slice before Zetta could answer and shoved it in his mouth.

  “You’re welcome,” she said, watching as the crumbs tumbled down the front of his tunic.

  “The dragon is so smart and willing to learn,” Ashton said with a grin. “I think I could teach it anything!”

  Zetta nodded. “Great. Teaching it not to destroy everything it touches would be a good start. I’m going to run up to Aunty Meryl’s to check on the animals and clean up a bit.” Zetta was now reasonably confident that the dragon wouldn’t hurt Ashton. She wasn’t quite as confident that Ashton wouldn’t do anything foolish with the dragon, like try to ride on its back.

  “Okay,” Ashton said, barely paying her any attention. He was giving the dragon belly scritches.

  Zetta sighed, then headed up the mountain, taking care to avoid the streams and beehives and a dozen other small but annoying nuisances, until she returned to her aunt’s homestead. She fed the chickens and rabbits, making sure she locked the gate securely as she entered and exited the pen. Then she started cleaning up the mess the dragon had made, scrubbing the surfaces and arranging everything nice and neat. Too nice and neat.

  Instead of the old and slightly enchanted place, it now looked like the inside of a furniture shop, everything so perfect that it sucked away all the personality. Zetta went around putting all the odds and ends back slightly askew. In one of the chests, she found some cobwebs, so she hung them up strategically in places. She dirtied the windows so she could barely see out of them. She ground dirt into the floorboards. Slowly, the place started to have more of a quirky atmosphere. This was the kind of place her aunt could brew in.

  This was the kind of place Zetta could brew in, too.

  If she were into that sort of thing anymore.

  She shouldn’t be into that sort of thing anymore.

  Right?

  She had successfully made that strength potion. And she and her friends could really use some swiftness potions to help them get to town and back.

  Zetta stared at the brewing stand that was the least damaged. Some of the blaze powder had fused to the sides of the intake valve, but it didn’t seem completely clogged. Just a smidge of powder was left. Maybe it would be enough to make a few potions. It was worth a try at least.

  Zetta took her empty potion bottles and washed them off in the cauldron before filling them with water and setting them in the brewing stand.

  She knew it’d be more efficient to make them splash potions, but Zetta didn’t dare chance using gunpowder again. Instead, she tossed some nether wart into the stand and waited for it to bubble up nicely. Then she carefully turned the burners down as low as they went before measuring in the sugar precisely. She watched the potions closely so they wouldn’t caramelize, and when the time came, she sprinkled in a bit of redstone dust that she’d gotten from Rift.

  And then…

  The potions were done. Zetta let them cool, then took them off the stand. She stared at them. It had almost been too easy. Nothing had burnt or bubbled over. Nothing had exploded. She corked each bottle, then packed them up, then repeated the process again. She got six potions out of the stand before it finally died. Satisfied with her progress, Zetta headed back down the mountain to find Ashton and the dragon curled up next to a campfire, both
sleeping.

  “Isn’t that cute?” Rift said from behind her. Zetta startled. The twins must have gotten back while she was gone.

  “Super-cute,” she said. “They worked really hard today.”

  “I’ve got something for you,” Rift said.

  Zetta smiled. It wasn’t like Rift to be thoughtful, but then from the look on his face, she realized it was something she probably didn’t want. He pulled out a piece of paper, folded twice in half. Her name was written on it in a familiar script. Her father’s.

  “He heard you’d been back to town. Someone saw you with us. I guess we weren’t careful enough.” Rift shrugged. “He asked me to give this to you.”

  Zetta’s arms wouldn’t leave her sides. She didn’t want it. Didn’t want to know what it said. She could already imagine. After spending several moments with the note outstretched in his arm, Rift came closer and pressed it into Zetta’s hand. It felt heavy, much heavier than paper should be, but Zetta knew it was because the words written upon it would weigh so heavily on her heart.

  She balled it up and tossed it into the campfire.

  Rift’s eyes went wide. “Zetta—”

  “It’s fine. I’ll talk to him when I get back. You didn’t tell him about the dragon, did you?” she asked.

  “Of course not!”

  Zetta breathed a deep sigh of relief, but before she could get it fully out, Rift continued.

  “But I did tell him about your aunt’s place.”

  Fire surged through Zetta’s veins. “You what?” she screamed.

  Rift backed up and threw his hands out in front of him like he thought Zetta was about to attack. Maybe she was. “I had to tell him something!” he stammered. “To explain why you were gone so long. To explain where we were going!”