The Dragon: An Official Minecraft Novel

by Nicky Drayden

  “We’re going to the farm,” Zetta whispered to Rift and Rayne. “Our grandparents are still there.”

  “How are we going to get past the illagers?” Rift asked, bouncing up and down, raring to go.

  “We?” Zetta asked.

  “I’m not letting you go alone.”

  “Same,” said Rayne. “But we need to figure out the logistics later.” Rayne pointed at the iron doors, the pistons extending with a series of mechanical-sounding clunks to push them closed again. The friends all made a run for it, slipping past the doors right before they shut tight with a slam that quaked Zetta’s bones.

  “I’m out of potions,” Zetta said. She dared to peek through the door to the town hall. Dozens and dozens of illagers were still about, ransacking the entire town. Looting stores, burning down homes. It was like they were thirsty for revenge. Even if she’d had an invisibility potion on her, she didn’t think it’d be safe to go out there.

  She peeked into her pack anyway, hoping she’d overlooked something. All she had left in there was Meechie the shovel, and her iron pickaxe. She pulled out her pickaxe. “If we can’t sneak past them, we’ll just have to go under them.”

  Zetta started digging right there through the sandstone floor of the town hall. She dug down to several blocks, then started swinging as fast as she could in a straight line toward the farm. For a few minutes, she felt the powerful hum of the beacon in her bones, but it faded as they grew closer to the farm and far out of the beacon’s range. Her arms ached now, but she didn’t let that slow her down. Her friends crowded in behind her. It was dark, and she couldn’t see anything, but it was important that she concentrate.

  How many blocks had they traveled? Fifty? Sixty? Zetta tried to keep a tally as she mined, so thankful for her recent training. So thankful she had this iron axe instead of a stone one. She fell into a trance, letting the rhythm of mining soothe her worn nerves, just like Milo had taught her. Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine. One hundred.

  They had to have gone far enough now. Zetta went a few more blocks, just to be sure, then popped up to get her bearings. She hit dirt instead of sand, which was a good sign. Sure enough, she came up in a wheat field. Perfect cover, since she heard illagers milling about. But only a few.

  “How’s your bow?” Zetta asked.

  “About done for,” Rayne groaned.

  “Well, hopefully it’ll last a few more shots. I need you to take out those three illagers by the carrots. Then we can make a run for Nana and Papa’s place.”

  Rayne nodded, taking careful aim. They couldn’t afford to miss even one shot. Two of the illagers went down, but the bow broke on their third attempt. That illager was on high alert now and would warn the others if they didn’t take it out.

  “I’ve got this,” Rift said, sword drawn. Zetta nodded, biting back her own urge to run out there. Her arms were the consistency of slime cubes from all the mining anyway. Rift came back thirty seconds later, shoulders hunched, still a little glum. “Done. At least I got that right. Let’s move.”

  The friends ran toward Nana and Papa’s place. Zetta was sprinting, and barely had the breath to spare, but she ran up beside Rift. “Don’t be mad about the TNT cannon. You did your best.”

  “Nah, could have done better,” Rift said back. “A lot better. Those arrow-firing contraptions weren’t great either.”

  “They helped,” Zetta said. “And next time we’ll know to—”

  “There might not be a next time,” Rift said. “Because of me.”

  Zetta wanted to console her friend, but as they got closer to the front porch, a plate flew out the window, nearly knocking Ashton in the head. “Nana! Papa!” he said. “It’s us! Let us in!”

  A bowl flew out the window this time, hitting Rift in the shoulder. “Ouch!” he cried.

  “How do we know you aren’t pillagers trying to trick us!” hollered Papa. “We saw those magical spells! You could be in our heads!”

  “I can name every pet chicken we ever had!” Ashton called out. “Could a pillager do that! There’s Mauve and Three Feathers, and Earline and Tucker, and Salma and Nella, and—”

  The door swung open, and Nana yanked Ashton in by the collar. “What are you doing outside yelling like that? Don’t you know we’re in the middle of a raid?”

  “But, Nana—”

  “Don’t ‘but Nana’ me, sir.” Then, “Get on in here,” Nana yelled at the rest of them. Zetta and her friends hustled inside.

  “Is Dad here?” Zetta asked.

  Papa nodded. “He tried to get us to come to the vault, but we said we’re staying here and protecting the farm. We’re not surrendering!” He picked up a raw potato. “Not as long as I’ve got strength in my arm and breath in my lungs and can throw one of these!”

  “He’s out there in the beetroot field now, collecting seeds!” Nana added, grabbing a stone hoe and gripping it like a sword. “He says he’ll collect enough for us to start over. We don’t want to start over! I won’t stand by and watch those beasts trample years of hard work!”

  Nana took a couple of wild swings, nearly knocking Ashton in the head. Ashton backed up to the wall, giving her plenty of space.

  The front door opened, and Papa threw three potatoes at the intruder, hard and fast. Zetta was impressed.

  “It’s just me!” came her father’s voice. He walked in, rubbing his forehead where Zetta was sure a potato-shaped bruise would be forming very soon. “I’ve got your seeds. We need to get to the town hall where we’ll be safe.”

  Zetta nodded. “I mined a path from the town hall to the farm. Right through all the sandstone. It’s a straight shot.” The vault doors were closed, but maybe Dad could convince the mayor to open them again.

  Dad arched an eyebrow. “You mined all the way here?”

  “You should have seen her,” Ashton said. “She was a mining machine!”

  “Our straight shot isn’t so straight now,” Rayne said, peering through the window. “Looks like we’ve got company. There’re several illagers between us and our escape tunnel. All of them are armed.”

  Zetta looked out the window herself. Rayne was right. Five gray faces were milling around the entrance to the tunnel. Two of them had crossbows and the other three had axes. Not impossible odds. At least there weren’t any ravagers or robed illagers or witches.

  “Okay, what weapons do we have?” Zetta asked.

  “My bow is broken,” Rayne said.

  “My sword is about to break,” Rift said. “It’s got a couple more swings in it, max.”

  “I’ve got hundreds of raw potatoes,” Papa said, patting a barrel and standing proudly next to it like it was filled with TNT blocks and not a year’s supply of spuds.

  “I’m out of potions and my pickaxe is busted. All I’ve got left is Meechie.” Zetta held up the shovel.

  A pained look crossed Ashton’s face. And Zetta felt the same pain in her heart. She didn’t want to admit it, but she’d grown fond of the dragon. It had become a part of their little team, and now it was gone. She sighed. “Okay. So we’re low on weapons, but we’re not low on ideas. We’ve got one of the best pranksters on our side,” she said, staring at Rift.

  “Zetta, this isn’t a time for Rift’s antics,” Father said, probably still sore about the time Rift had used double-extending pistons to lock him in the bathroom.

  “You’re wrong about that, Dad. Now is the perfect time,” Zetta said. Maybe Rift’s arrow launcher and TNT cannon hadn’t worked out like they’d hoped, but there was one thing Rift did better than anyone else. Pranks and traps. Those illagers wouldn’t know what hit them. “Okay, Rift. If you’re looking for a chance to redeem yourself, it’s time to do your thing!”

  A smile crossed his face. The confidence he’d lost with the TNT explosion slowly seeped back into his body. “Pranks I can definitely do!” He
turned to Nana. “Do you have any anvils?”

  “A few,” Nana said. “But most of them are all busted up.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Bring them here,” he commanded. Then, remembering his manners, Rift added, “Please, Nana Night?” He turned to Zetta’s cousin. “Ashton, I need you to dig a pit in the sandy patch over by the carrot field.”

  Rift took the shovel from Zetta and handed it to Ashton, then continued giving out assignments until everyone was hustling about, gathering supplies from around the farm and creating traps for the illagers. Fifteen minutes later, they were ready and at their assigned stations. There were more illagers now; apparently, word had gotten out. The illagers were hungry for easy targets.

  Not on Zetta’s watch.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Zetta didn’t really appreciate being bait. But Rift was busy orchestrating this convoluted plan, and Dad and Rayne were still assembling their traps, and Papa was too slow and Nana had too quick of a temper, and no way would Zetta put Ashton in peril like this, so it had to be her.

  She took her spot, careful not to step directly on the sand, then she shouted to a group of illagers, “Hey! Raiders! You missed an emerald!” She held up a shiny green stone, glimmering in the moonlight.

  The illagers’ eyes flashed. They let out a chorus of angry moans and harrumphs, then started toward her with their bows and axes raised. Fear shot through Zetta, and she almost forgot to move. She shook the feeling away, then dodged an arrow as it flew past her and into the fence post of the chicken coop. The chickens squawked and ruffled their feathers, but then continued strutting around like the world wasn’t about to come to an end.

  Zetta kept backing up. Kept dodging, wishing she had more than her mother’s old leather boots for protection. Another arrow whooshed by her, but the pillagers were almost to the sand patch now. They stepped on the sandpit, and the sand did what sand does best.

  It collapsed right under their feet.

  The five illagers that had been leading the march fell into the trap. It wasn’t far enough of a drop to kill them, but they wouldn’t be getting out anytime soon. Zetta then made a run for the trough where the pigs were fed. It was a covered area with a low ceiling and open walls. The sandstone floor made it easy to clean. Now it was covered with pressure plates, maybe twenty in all, spaced all around in a maze of sorts.

  Zetta stepped carefully, trying to remember the exact path Rift had given her—start at the fifth block from the right, go forward three blocks, left two, forward three. Right two. Or was it three?

  Zetta stopped for a moment, trying to remember. She must have taken a wrong turn, because there were pressure plates all around her now, and there was no way to go but back. She felt her heart beat rapidly in her chest, but then she realized it was actually the hard footsteps of the approaching illagers. She didn’t want to set off the trap, but she couldn’t remember what to do next. It was only three more blocks between her and the dirt. She could make the jump, if she tried really hard.

  Maybe.

  Zetta backed up to the end of the block, did a little sprint, then launched herself as far as she could over the pressure plates. She landed on the other side of the trough, just as an arrow struck exactly where she’d been standing a moment before. Phew.

  The angry illagers crossed into the trough area, but none of them noticed the pressure plates on the sandstone floor. Three of them stepped on a plate, and the four sandstone blocks surrounding them shot up from the ground, locking them in place. Two of them had axes and were no longer a threat, but one of them had a crossbow, and raised it right at Zetta and fired.

  The arrow sunk into Zetta’s thigh. She screamed out in pain.

  The remaining illagers were bearing right down on Zetta, but then a potato hit one of them in the head. Another spud followed. The miffed raiders grunted and started off in the direction of the tuber attack, out toward the potato field.

  Then Zetta heard an even louder scream coming from the porch of the main house. It was Nana. She had her hoe sharpened, iron gleaming. She charged at the pillager who had shot Zetta.

  “Nana, don’t!” Zetta screamed, but it was too late. Nana swung her hoe at the pillager. It tried to attack back, but Nana was too close. Nana smiled as the pillager vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving behind a crossbow and a few arrows. Nana picked them up, a wicked gleam in her eyes. Zetta was suddenly super-glad that Nana was on their side.

  “Maybe you should give those to Rayne,” Zetta suggested, wincing through the pain.

  “Not a chance,” Nana said. She took aim at one of the illagers that had gone off toward the potato field. Zetta saw Papa trying to run away, but he wasn’t fast enough. The illagers were gaining on him. Nana fired, and the arrow sunk right into the illager’s back. She fired a second arrow, and it poofed altogether.

  Zetta watched as Nana dropped the crossbow, pulled her hoe out again, and ran over to attack the two remaining illagers. Papa continued to throw potatoes. Zetta didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or just let the terror grip her. Nana finished those last two illagers off in no time. But when Zetta heard harrumphing coming from the direction of the barn, the smile fell completely off her face.

  More illagers were coming this way.

  “We need to get to the house!” Zetta said, scrambling up onto her feet. It hurt badly, but she was still able to walk. She wished the farm weren’t so far away from the beacon. But she was slowly healing. She hobbled toward the house. She was so focused on getting to safety, she completely forgot to watch where she was stepping, until she heard a click as she reached to open the front door. Rift yanked her away just in time as three old anvils fell from the ceiling.

  “So much for that trap,” Rift said.

  “Thanks,” Zetta said. “But we’re going to need a lot more than a few traps now.” She pointed at the barn. Another twenty illagers were gathering there.

  “Everyone, inside!” Rift called, ushering them all to the side entrance. Nana and Papa came running. Dad and Rayne too. Rift shut the door.

  “Okay,” Zetta said. “We’re going to have to regroup and think of another way out of this. Maybe if we create a diversion—” Zetta looked around. “Wait, where’s Ashton?”

  Zetta ran to the window and froze in terror when she saw her cousin out there, trying to defend himself from the illagers with nothing but a shovel. “He’s out there! We have to save him!”

  Zetta forgot all about the pain in her leg, and she sprinted for the barn. She hoped she would make it there…and then what? Whack the illagers in the legs with wheat shafts? It didn’t matter. She just needed to get there.

  Suddenly, the air whipped and cracked like a rare desert storm was rolling in. The wheat in the field stirred slightly in the ominous breeze. But it never rained in Sienna Dunes, not in the town’s entire history. Both Zetta and Ashton looked up as the sound of harsh flapping intensified, hoping beyond hope to see the black dragon against the backdrop of the night sky. Zetta could just make out the purple eyes blending in with the stars overhead. But they were moving. And getting closer.

  She wanted to feel relief that the dragon was here to help them, but as the dragon swooped down, Zetta got a better appreciation for just how enormous and frightening it was. It was twice as big as before, and all traces of the pup she’d known were completely gone. Zetta’s relief was quickly replaced by fear, and it sent a chill through her bones.

  This was the most hostile mob of all hostile mobs.

  “It molted again!” Zetta and Ashton said together.

  The dragon breathed poison on the illagers farthest from Zetta and Ashton, the purple cloud causing them nonstop damage until they faded into nothingness. The dragon swooped down a second time, diving toward a pillager sinking arrow after arrow into that nearly impenetrable scaly hide. If it was hurt, the dragon didn’t let on.

 
Instead, the dragon punched the pillager with its big black snout. The pillager let out an “Oof” and flew to the other side of the farm, landing in the pigpen and vanishing on impact.

  The dragon’s tail took out a few more pillagers and vindicators, leaving just a handful alive. Ashton held Meechie up, the shovel’s handle blocking the blow of a vindicator’s axe. The vindicator snarled at Ashton, then grabbed the shovel and broke it in half, leaving Ashton completely defenseless.

  As the vindicator threw Meechie’s remains to the ground, the dragon unleashed a cry of agony that rattled Zetta’s eardrums and made her gut clench up. It was like the screech of a thousand rabid bats, rising in pitch until the windows on Nana and Papa’s house shattered.

  “Back up, Ashton,” Zetta shouted to her cousin, but her voice was lost in the dragon’s wailing.

  “What?” Ashton shouted back.

  The dragon’s purple eyes inflamed as they trained on the vindicator that had broken its favorite toy. It huffed its nostrils, flapped up high into the air, then pulled its wings tight against its body as it descended again. Zetta noticed it wasn’t slowing down. In fact, the dragon seemed to be picking up speed.

  Zetta gestured for Ashton to move out of the way, and Ashton bolted, putting as much distance as he could between him and the dragon as it drove its snout right into the dirt.

  The vindicator that had been standing there moments before was pounded into the ground, and the dragon didn’t stop there. The whole wheat field became a pit of dirt as the dragon continued to cut through the earth. Finally, it pulled back up.

  All the illagers at the farm were gone now, but the dragon still looked angry. Ashton ran over to what was left of Meechie, but it was just wood splinters now. He took a few steps toward the dragon, hand outstretched, but Zetta yanked him back.

  “Absolutely not!” Zetta shouted at him. “Did you just see what—”