The Wither Invasion

by Mark Cheverton

  She moved to the entrance and gazed at the remains. The bottom half of a wooden door lay on the ground, the top half smashed into splinters. Stepping inside, Planter glanced around at the destruction, Watcher and Mira a step behind. Inside, furniture lay toppled on the ground, much of it broken, as if a great battle had been fought here, which it had. A tear trickled down Planter’s cheek as she stared at the ruins, then moved farther into the house, Watcher now at her side. Kicking aside broken chairs and overturned tables, she moved to a chest, its lid torn off. Tiny wooden carvings lay inside; toys made by her father’s caring hands, each now broken apart, their shattered pieces scratched by zombie claws.

  “I wonder if they found it?” Planter said softly.

  “Found what?” Watcher asked, but she ignored him.

  She moved to the back room, her former bedroom, then shoved aside the bed. The magical glow coming from her arms bathed the dark room in a soft purple glow. The tiny red embers dancing around the edge of her dark-blue armor added a warm crimson hue to the darkening room. Dropping to her hands and knees, Planter moved across the floor, staring intently at each wooden plank.

  “Here it is.”

  She wiped away a layer of dust and stared down at a square of wood, just a shade darker than the rest. It was a dark oak plank, its color almost indistinguishable from the surrounding spruce planks.

  Rising to her feet, Planter held her hand out to Watcher. “Give me an axe.”

  He reached into his inventory and pulled out an iron axe, then handed it to her. Raising the tool up high, she brought it down upon the dark plank, the razor-sharp blade digging into the wood, cracks forming across its wooden face. Her arms pulsed with lavender light as she swung with all her strength, hitting it again and again, causing slivers of wood to fly into the air, spraying her with their pointed ends until, finally, the dark oak plank shattered. Watcher peered over her shoulder. In the hole was a small chest. Planter dropped the axe and knelt, slowly opening its lid. The hinges creaked and groaned, complaining about the many decades they had been ignored.

  “My mom told me to come back for this after I escaped our house during the zombie attack. This box contains a family heirloom passed down from mother to daughter for generations.” She paused for a moment, overcome by emotions. “My parents bought me the time I needed to survive—bought it with their lives.”

  A tear trickled down her cheek. Watcher moved to her side, but she held up a hand, stopping him. He stood back, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight, but that relationship was gone, and now they were just friends, and barely that. “I don’t know what’s in here, but my parents were willing to protect it with their lives.”

  Planter reached into the chest and pulled out what looked like a golden key. When she held it up in the air for the others to see, the iridescent glow around her body suddenly stopped pulsing and shot into the key. The gold artifact grew bright as the magical energy flowed into it, then flashed, giving off such a brilliant lavender burst that everyone had to shield their eyes. When the light faded, the key glowed just like Planter, the pulsing light in the artifact synchronized with her body, as if it were a part of her now.

  Mira moved closer and stared down at the key. “You know what that is, child?”

  Planter shook her head.

  “That’s Sotaria’s Key.” The ancient wizard nodded, her long gray hair swaying back and forth.

  “You mean the wizard that made my magical shield?” Planter asked.

  “She didn’t just make them.” Mira glanced at Watcher, then back to Planter, making sure both were listening. “Sotaria put a small sliver of her consciousness into each of the shields, spreading her power across many of the artifacts.” She moved closer to Planter and lowered her voice. “Sotaria told us she made the key before she sent her mind and powers into her shields. I never knew its purpose, but she said it was critical this key never become lost, for it would one day be needed in the final battle. I thought when the Great War ended we’d seen the final battle, and the key had been used somewhere … but here it is. Maybe she knew the final battle—the real final battle—would happen now, in this time, instead of centuries ago.” Mira glanced at Planter and extended a hand. “I think it best I hold on to that.”

  Planter glared at the magical artifact, a look of hatred in her emerald-green eyes, then brought her angry gaze to the ancient wizard. “My parents gave their lives to protect me and this key. I’m not giving it to anyone.” She stuffed it into her inventory, eyes blazing. “I don’t know what this key unlocks, but my parents were willing to defend it with their lives, and I’ll do the same, even though I hate its magic as much as I hate my own.”

  Mira turned to Watcher, the side of her unibrow raised, as if asking a silent question.

  “Don’t look at me,” he said. “Planter makes her own decisions, and I agree with her. That key has been in her family’s care for, I don’t know, generations? Her parents paid the price for that key; it stays with her.” He glanced at Planter, hoping for a smile or some recognition, but she just stared at the now-empty box.

  With one foot, Planter kicked the chest closed, then turned and headed for the broken door. “I’ve seen enough. This life is gone. Let’s go; there’s an army of villagers out there somewhere, and we just need to convince them to go to war with us.”

  They followed her out of the shattered home and into the now-darkened village; the sun had finished setting, allowing a tapestry of sparkling stars to spread across the heavens. The rest of their company was already mounted and waiting, some of the NPCs glancing about at the destruction; for many of them, this had been their village too. Painful emotions were etched on many of their faces as the villagers thought about loved ones they’d lost. The effects of the destructive act brought upon them by the zombie warlord would forever leave a scar on their souls; only time would heal their wounds. But how much time did they really have if Krael was coming?

  “There’s another village to the west.” Blaster pointed with one of the enchanted curved swords he’d taken from Wizard City weeks ago. The weapon gave off a soft iridescent glow, bathing him in a lavender hue until, putting the weapon back into his inventory, he nearly disappeared, his black leather armor merging with the darkness.

  “Let’s move,” Cutter boomed. “I want to be at that village before sunrise.”

  Without waiting for a response, Cutter kicked his horse forward, casting a suspicious glance at Er-Lan, then urged his horse to a gallop and headed out of the village, the rest of the company following close behind.

  Fixit, on the back of an iron wolf, glanced up at Watcher and smiled, then let out a loud whistle. The wolves in the forest howled in response, then followed the villagers to the west, the protective ring of wiry metal fur and fangs guarding against threats.

  Watcher nudged his mount forward, moving up to Er-Lan’s side. The two companions rode in silence as the ground rumbled under the footsteps of the iron golems around them, the metal giants pushing through low-hanging branches with steel fists. Out of the corner of his eye, Watcher glanced at his zombie friend and wondered. With his magic, he could feel Planter and Mira up ahead; somehow, he could feel their energy through the fabric of Minecraft. But with Er-Lan, he could feel nothing.

  Cutter’s wrong. There’s no way Er-Lan’s a warlock, Watcher thought, shaking his head. If he were, I would detect something, and I don’t feel anything coming from him.

  Sometimes, emotions cloud what we see, a high-pitched voice whispered in the back of Watcher’s mind.

  Reaching into his inventory, Watcher pulled Needle from his inventory and stared down at it. “Dalgaroth, you have something to say?”

  The enchanted sword remained silent, the soft purple glow from the weapon adding to the light coming from his body.

  “What did Watcher say?” Er-Lan glanced at his friend.

  Watcher shook his head. “Nothing, never mind.” He returned the blade to his inventory and rode
in silence, but the tiniest seed of doubt now lay planted deep in his soul; was Er-Lan really his friend, his family … or was he here for another reason?

  I couldn’t bear it if Cutter’s suspicions were true, Watcher thought. I refuse to accept it.

  Ignoring something doesn’t make it go away, Dalgaroth thought to him. Truth is still truth, even if it is unwanted.

  The wizard’s thoughts made Watcher sad as he thought about that possibility. A tear trickled down his cheek as he rode through the forest, a dark sadness enveloping him in an icy embrace.

  The king of the withers floated across Wizard City like a predatory beast stalking its prey and waiting to strike. His three Crowns of Skulls grew brighter and brighter as he drew magical power from the artifacts and funneled it into his impending attack. He gathered more energy, making the crowns shine brighter than the sun … and then he fired.

  With a malicious grin on each of Krael’s faces, three flaming skulls shot through the air. The terrible projectiles struck the roof of a towering structure and exploded. The iron covering buckled under the blast, then shattered, raining glowing metal cubes on the street below.

  Krael smiled at his wife, Kora, then moved over the building and peered inside.

  “What do you see?” Kora asked.

  He scowled. “Nothing … again!” Frustration filled the monster’s booming voice.

  Gathering more power, he fired upon the exposed floor, tearing it to bits, revealing the room below; it was also empty, with just the remains of broken furniture now littering the interior. With his frustration rising, Krael continued to drill furiously through the building’s innards, removing floor after floor until he reached the ground level.

  “It’s not here!” The wither king’s angry voice crashed across the ancient city, his rage amplified by the power of the three crowns upon his heads.

  “Don’t worry, husband, you’ll find the portal. I have confidence in you.” Kora moved to her husband’s side, her presence calming him.

  Krael looked up from the broken remains of the building and gazed out across the city below. Flaming skulls rained down upon structure after structure, the thunderous explosions echoing off the ironclad buildings. His army of withers was spread out all across Wizard City, the dark monsters searching the tallest buildings for the all-important portal.

  On the ground, distorted monsters with seemingly random combinations of body parts from different creatures flowed down the streets and alleyways, flushing out the few remaining protectors still in the City. Occasionally, an iron wolf or one of the tiny metal children would emerge from the shadows and charge at the invaders. They didn’t last very long.

  Glaring down at the shattered remains of the iron building below him, Krael’s anger built. “This was the seventh building I’ve destroyed, the largest one still standing. I thought for sure Tharus’s portal would be here. I don’t understand it. If I were Tharus, I would have put the portal in the largest and tallest building, so all would know of my power.” His anger and frustration grew stronger and more dangerous as his power began to grow.

  “Husband.” Kora’s voice instantly had a calming effect on him. “Perhaps this wizard did not want the other NPCs to know of its existence. Maybe it was only meant for him and was not shared.”

  “Perhaps. Tharus was always arrogant, but selfish as well. When he cast the spells to create you and me, and all the other withers, I recall his companions telling Tharus it was too dangerous.” Krael turned toward his wife. “One of the other wizards said, ‘What if they turn on us?’ and Tharus said something about how weapons could sometimes cut the hand that holds them … or something like that. But the part I remember clearly was what he said next. He said, ‘Then you better be prepared, as I am.’ That struck me as strange at the time, but now I think I understand. Tharus had his portal back then, and he wasn’t planning on sharing it with anyone else.”

  Kora nodded. “If that’s the case, then he’d hide it not just from us, but from his fellow wizards as well.”

  “Wife, you’re brilliant, as usual.” Krael floated higher into the air until his crowns brushed against the magical shield encompassing Wizard City, which had already repaired itself, then stared down at the iron buildings.

  “Brothers and sisters, listen to me.” Krael’s voice boomed across the city, amplified by his crowns. “Stop searching the largest or most elaborate buildings. Instead, your king commands you to search the smallest and most insignificant structures. It will be in these tiny and uninteresting buildings that we’ll find what we seek.” He drew on the energy in the Crowns of Skulls, then fired three flaming projectiles, one from each skull. They smashed into the ground, causing the ground to shake as if struck by a gigantic meteor. The blast shocked his army, putting a bit of fear in every eye. “Find the portal, or I will be displeased, and may decide to use my flaming skulls for something other than smashing buildings.”

  The monsters and withers all moved quickly, entering smaller structures and smashing down walls, looking for the portal that would allow all of them to move to the Far Lands and get the revenge they all sought.

  “Where is that small wither?” Krael asked. “Wife, what was his name?”

  “Kobael.”

  “Right.” Krael’s crowns grew bright with power. “Kobael, come to me, NOW!” His voice exploded across the city, shattering the few panes of glass not yet broken.

  A small wither floated up from the buildings, a timid look on his three faces. Krael could tell the tiny monster was terrified…. Good, Krael thought, a little fear is a good thing, a lot of fear is even better. He glared at the creature until it was nearby him.

  “Yes, my king,” Kobael said. The wither was perhaps half the size of Krael, and looked more like a child than a soldier in the wither king’s war.

  “I want you to find the smallest buildings and go inside to search them,” the king said.

  “Go … inside?” Kobael’s voice cracked with fear. “But that means I’ll be close to the ground.”

  All withers hated being near the ground; they were vulnerable to weapons or claws. Altitude meant safety to a wither.

  “Are you refusing an order from your king?!” the wither king glared at Kobael, his eyes growing brighter, preparing an attack.

  “No, sire.” The tiny wither lowered his heads to stare at the ground. “I will do as you command.”

  “Good. Then get to work.”

  Kobael bowed his head, then descended to a small structure sandwiched between a pair of towering buildings. He glanced up at his king as he neared the ground, likely hoping for a reprieve. Krael laughed, then nodded at the minute wither. With a sigh, Kobael entered the structure, searching for the hidden portal.

  “You should be nicer to that tiny wither, husband.” Kora floated to his side. “He’s cute and harmless.”

  “Cute and harmless are not what I need in this army,” Krael said. “He will do his share, no matter how dangerous, or face the consequences. And, as you know, there is only one consequence for a wither who will not fight.”

  “Death.” Kora’s voice was barely a whisper.

  “That’s right. Death.” The wither king smiled at his wife. “Kobael will do his duty, and of that I have no doubt.”

  Krael and his wife floated across the city, firing their flaming skulls at smaller structures. With each collapsed roof and empty interior, Krael’s frustration grew.

  “Do you remember the day when we stopped doing our duty to the wizards?” Kora asked after a while.

  “Of course. It was our proudest moment.” Krael laughed. “The looks on their faces when we abandoned them and moved to the monsters’ side were priceless.”

  “I can still remember the terrible things the wizards were doing to the landscape.” Kora’s voice had a sad, distant quality as the memory played through her three heads. “They made those massive stone columns to come shooting up out of the ground. Remember how it sent all those monsters flying up into the air,
only to fall back to the ground, to their deaths?”

  Krael nodded, his eyes narrowing with anger. “They used that other weapon to warp the monsters together, making the distorted creatures we have on the ground with us now.”

  “It was terrible,” Kora hissed. “It not only mashed the monsters together into horrific and painful ways, but it also distorted the landscape, bending trees and distorting houses and their occupants, remember?” Her eyes narrowed like Krael’s. “The wizards didn’t care how much harm they caused, as long as they made sure monsters suffered. If we hadn’t abandoned them and joined the warlocks, they may have won.”

  “All that fool Tharus cared about was the destruction of every monster in Minecraft,” Krael said. “I bet after he destroyed the monsters, he would have turned on us, but we didn’t give him that opportunity.”

  “No, we didn’t, husband.”

  “I heard Tharus talk about his ‘Answer’ many times when he still thought we were his friends.” Krael laughed. “He had some master plan to destroy all monsters on every world in Minecraft. It would have been great to know how he was going to do it; we could use it against the villagers instead.”

  “But we don’t need to worry about that anymore,” Kora said. “Tharus has been dead for centuries.”

  “Perhaps, but there are still three wizards out there.” An angry glare spread across Krael’s three faces; it happened whenever he thought about Watcher and his wizard friends. “Monsters will never be safe while those three wizards live. When we find this portal, we’ll flood into the Far Lands and hunt them down like the animals they are.”

  The two withers stared down at the street below as Kobael exited the building. The puny monster glanced up at his king and shook his heads.

  “Go find another building and search, you fool!” the wither king shouted, hurrying him along.

  Krael growled with annoyance, then floated to the next small structure and hovered over it as Kobael hesitantly entered.

  “Husband, won’t the NPCs be preparing for our arrival?”