Battle for the Nether

by Mark Cheverton

  Attacking monster after monster, Gameknight fought through the clash of bodies, wanting to get to his friend. He could see him in the distance, the young boy slashing out at legs with his iron sword, ducking under attack and taking advantage of his diminutive height. Kicking one monster away, Gameknight999 drove his sword through another, its rotting body disappearing with a pop as its HP was consumed. Spinning to block a golden blade, he slashed at a black furry spider. Knocking away dark claws, he slashed at the zombie, then stabbed at the spider, killing both. Hacking at one after another, the User-that-is-not-a-user fought from pure instinct, carving a pathway through the tunnel. Finally, he reached his friend.

  Crafter was facing off against a zombie-pigman that was armored, its golden coat looking like melted butter on the monster. Moving with lightning speed, Gameknight slashed at the armor’s weak points . . . under the arm . . . near the neck . . . at the waist. He attacked at the points where the armor plates met, and maneuvered his sword so that it slipped in and found soft flesh. In moments, the creature was destroyed, giving him time to talk with his friend.

  “Crafter, we have to get you out of here.”

  “Not ‘til we save Hunter,” Crafter objected.

  “But Malacoda wants you just as badly as any other crafter. You’re what he wants right now, not these few NPCs. Come on, we have to get out of here.”

  Just then, Hunter appeared, covered in soot. Part of her clothing was singed, the edges of her smock still smoking a bit. Her face looked as if it were made from stone, grim determination mixed with unbridled hatred carved deep into her skin.

  “Oh good, you’re here,” she said quickly. “Any of you got any arrows? I’m kinda getting low.” She gave them both a grin, her eyes filled with excitement and a thirst for battle.

  “What are you doing? We have to get out of here!” Gameknight yelled over the din of battle.

  Just then, a zombie-pigman lunged at them. Hunter deflected the golden blade with her bow as Gameknight hacked at the creature’s side, hitting it quickly with three well-aimed attacks. The monster evaporated, leaving behind small glowing balls of XP that flew to him.

  “Nice,” Hunter said with a quirky grin. Then she spun and fired another arrow down the dark tunnel, striking some monster in the distance.

  Suddenly, a fireball streaked out of the darkness and burst above their heads.

  “Blazes, or worse,” Gameknight said, unease edging his voice. “We have to get out of here.”

  “I think you’re right,” Hunter said.

  “EVERYONE FALL BACK TO THE MINECART NETWORK!” Crafter yelled, his high-pitched voice piercing through the sound of battle.

  The villagers began their retreat back to the crafting cavern. The zombie-pigmen were confused at first, but then quickly ran after their prey. Gameknight and Crafter were able to attack them from the back of the group, hacking away at their backs and legs, killing them in an instant. Arrows streaked past Gameknight’s head as Hunter sought out targets of her own, killing monsters farther down the passage. In minutes, they’d killed the remaining zombies in the tunnel, and followed the villagers toward the minecarts. Sprinting into the crafting chamber, they bolted down the steps to the cavern floor. They’d only just reached it when balls of fire streaked into the room, striking one villager after another, causing them to burst into flame, their HP diminishing quickly . . . and then they were gone, dead. More balls of fire flew into the chamber as an army of blazes burst through the twin iron doors at the chamber’s entrance. They were creatures of flame and smoke, with glowing yellow rods spinning about their center, a bright yellow head floating atop the body of fire. Their dead black eyes glared down at the surviving villagers with a look of unbridled hatred. The blazes launched the flaming projectiles at the NPCs, the burning spheres crashing into NPCs and consuming HP in minutes. They were carefully aimed to steer clear of Crafter, Gameknight and Hunter benefitting from still being at his side.

  “Quickly, get on the minecarts!” Crafter yelled. “If you’re the last one, break the track behind you . . . GO!”

  The surviving villagers headed for the minecarts, Gameknight and his companions doing the same. Suddenly, a noise came from the cavern entrance. It was a terrible sound, like the yowl of a wounded, moaning cat. It was a sound made by a creature that was filled with unspeakable despair mixed with a thirst for vengeance on those who were happy and alive. Few ever heard this sound and lived, for it came from the most terrible of Nether creatures: a ghast.

  Gameknight turned and saw a large white creature slowly float down from the cavern entrance. Nine long tentacles hung beneath the large, bone-white cube, each one writhing and bending, itching to grab hold of its next victim. This was not a normal monster. It was the biggest creature Gameknight had ever seen in Minecraft, much larger than the standard ghast. No . . . this was something different . . . something terrible. This horrific ghast was the King of the Nether—this was Malacoda.

  Gameknight was petrified with fear. This was the most terrifying creature he’d ever seen, and easily made Erebus seem like a child’s toy. This monster was the incarnation of hopelessness and despair tied together with the rusty wires of anger and hatred. This was the face that nightmares feared; this was the face of terror.

  The moans from Malacoda brought an eerie silence to the room. The villagers turned toward the sound, and their mouths fell open in shock. They had never seen such a terrifying thing in their lives, and it instantly caused all of them to panic. NPCs collided with NPCs as they all bolted for the minecarts, almost climbing on each other in an effort to escape.

  The King of the Nether struck out at one of the remaining villagers, throwing a gigantic fireball at the hapless victim and engulfing the doomed soul in a firestorm that mercifully consumed his HP in mere seconds.

  Malacoda laughed. “Ha ha ha ha,” the ghast boomed. “Now that one went up quick.”

  Scanning the chamber for his next victim, Malacoda launched a fireball at another NPC, then another, and another, until his burning red eyes fell on Crafter, Gameknight, and Hunter, and stopped his attack. The villagers took advantage, those remaining jumping into minecarts and escaping, leaving the three comrades to face the King of the Nether.

  “Now what do we have here?” his glowing red eyes scanned Crafter with meticulous care. “A child that is more than a child . . . this is interesting.” His malicious voice filled the chamber as he pointed at Crafter with one of his serpentine tentacles. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  “You won’t get a crafter from this village, demon!” Crafter yelled back at the monster.

  “Is that so?” Malacoda said.

  He flicked his tentacles toward a group of blazes. The burning creatures slowly floated toward the trio, sparks and ash flying from their glowing bodies.

  “Quickly, to the minecarts,” Crafter said. “I’ll go last. They won’t shoot any fireballs and risk hitting me.”

  Taking three quick steps, Hunter leaped into a minecart and shot down the tunnel. Then Gameknight and Crafter jumped into the last minecart, just as Malacoda fired a huge fireball at the tunnel, hoping to cut off their escape. Their minecart sped down the tracks just ahead of the incendiary ball, the back of the tunnel erupting in explosive flame. The tunnel collapsed just behind their minecart, thankfully sealing it off.

  They’d escaped, but just barely.

  As they sped down the tracks, Gameknight could hear the ear-splitting screams of frustration from Malacoda, the ghast king yelling at the top of his lungs.

  “I’LL GET YOU YET . . .”

  CHAPTER 11

  NIGHTMARES REVEALED

  C

  rafter and Gameknight crouched close together as they sped down the tunnel in the minecart. The heat from Malacoda’s fireball still filled the passageway, making beads of sweat trickle down their faces and sting their eyes. A subtle smoky haze filled the air, but gradually cleared as they sped down the tracks.

  “That was close,” Craf
ter said, patting his friend on the shoulder. “Malacoda seemed a little upset at our escape.”

  “Upset?” Gameknight snapped. “He was insane with rage, a killing rage that was focused directly on us, and probably still is. I don’t know if we’ll be so lucky next time.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Gameknight looked away, staring down the minecart tracks. The tunnel had led straight away from the crafting cavern, but was now slowly going uphill. The beat of the wheels on the crossbeams created a hypnotic effect on him, the ka-chunk, ka-chunk, ka-chunk driving the horrifying images of Malacoda from his mind.

  Then suddenly the minecart plummeted downward on a steep slope. It turned left then right, then left again as it jogged its way through the flesh of Minecraft. Gameknight knew that the tracks were going around sections of the rail network that had stopped working correctly, a portion of the system becoming visible to the users for some reason. When that happened, the NPCs converted that section of the track to an abandoned mine and filled it with the occasional chest of items: a sword here, food and tools there. It was what the NPCs did—kept the mechanism of Minecraft working. He wished they were just going straight, because the sudden turns were affecting his stomach and the rumbling didn’t feel so good. But just as he was about to complain, the track straightened out again. Sighing, he relaxed a little.

  Quite suddenly, the stone wall of the tunnel curved away and opened up, showing a gigantic crevasse that stretched up to the sky, the bottom of it plunging far below the level of their rails. Looking up, Gameknight could see blocky clouds drifting across the narrow slice of sky visible through the opening of the crevasse. At the bottom he could see a narrow river flowing down its length, the occasional blossom of lava spilling into the watery stream. The combination of water and molten rock formed dark, midnight blue obsidian that sparkled with purple flecks in the distance. Shadows covered the floor of the valley; the sheer walls and narrow span shielding the crevasse from sunlight except at noon. These shadows allowed the monsters of night, the mobs of the Overworld, to mill about without bursting into flame. He could see zombies and skeletons clustering right next to the vertical walls, still fearing the openness of the floor and the burning sun that would emerge midway through the day.

  The scene instantly reminded him of the dream he’d had days ago, the dream where Erebus had first appeared to him . . . the beginning of the constant nightmare. Shuddering, his face froze as the terror of that dream replayed itself through his mind, his eyes wide, mouth frozen slightly open. Expecting to see green, decaying arms reaching out at him from the shadows, Gameknight’s eyes darted about, checking both sides of the tunnel while at the same time trying to stay completely motionless in hopes that the monsters in his mind wouldn’t notice him.

  He was snapped out of this trance-like state by a hand on his shoulder, a voice ringing in his ears.

  “Gameknight . . . are you alright?” Crafter asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Ahh . . . well . . . it’s . . . ahh . . . nothing, it’s nothing.”

  “I think it’s time you started telling me the truth,” Crafter demanded, his unibrow creased with concern.

  “Well . . . I’ve been having these dreams,” Gameknight confessed. He felt a little ridiculous talking about . . . nightmares.

  “Dreams? NPCs rarely dream when we sleep. We just go dormant. I guess the code that runs us in Minecraft pauses and lets the CPU resources go somewhere else. I’ve only known one NPC who said he had a dream, and it was my Great-Great-Uncle Carpenter. He used to call himself a dream-walker, though I never really understood what that meant.” He paused for a moment. His face looked excited, almost childlike. “What’s it like . . . you know . . . to dream?”

  Gameknight sighed. He could see the excitement on Crafter’s face, but knew he had to tell him the truth. “They aren’t really dreams, exactly.”

  “Not exactly . . . what do you mean?”

  Suddenly, a shaft of sunlight streamed into the tunnel. The wall fell away again, revealing another cavern, open at the top. They could see more monsters milling about at the bottom, staying in the life-preserving shadows. Images of Erebus erupted in his memory.

  He shuddered again.

  “They aren’t dreams. They’re nightmares. I’m having nightmares about Erebus.” His voice cracked with emotion. Swallowing, he continued. “The first nightmare was a few days ago. It was kinda like this tunnel. I was on a minecart, hurtling down the tracks, and then I saw the caverns like we just saw . . . and then the minecart stopped.”

  He paused to see if, somehow, the minecart was going to mimic his dream and slow to a stop. Instead, it continued to plunge down the tracks, the tunnel wall closing in again as the cavern fell behind.

  With a sigh of relief, he continued. “I was surrounded by a strange fog in the dream. There were monsters in the fog all around me. I couldn’t see them very well, but I knew that they were there. And then they started reaching out at me with their razor-sharp claws and pointed fangs, zombies and spiders flowing toward me from all sides. I couldn’t fight back . . . I was too scared, so I just stood there and let the monsters attack me. The pain was terrible, like every nerve in my body was on fire. I cried out for help, but there was nobody there—just me and all those monsters.” He shuddered as the images replayed through his mind, then continued. “But then suddenly it all stopped.”

  Pausing to take a breath, Gameknight could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his mind lost in those painful memories. He looked sideways at Crafter. The old young NPC sat motionless, his entire being riveted on what his friend was saying, so he continued his account.

  “The monsters all backed away and I thought that maybe the nightmare was over, but then I heard chuckling, a spine-tingling cackle that caused waves of panic to flow over me. I knew that laugh, that maniacal, evil laugh.

  “It was Erebus,” Gameknight said in a low voice, his eyes darting to the shadows that now surrounded their minecart. “He’s back.”

  “But how could that be true? You said he was killed in that explosion on the last server.”

  “I know, but he must have crossed over . . . collected enough XP to respawn on the next server plane, like we did. He doesn’t look completely solid, more insubstantial and transparent than physically present, but he still terrifies me to death.”

  “So you think he’s here?”

  “I’m not sure. I don’t really know what the dreams mean, or if the dreams are real, but what I do know . . . Erebus is becoming more solid with every nightmare. He’s becoming real, and that scares me.”

  Gameknight reached up and rubbed his throat, the skin still scuffed and raw.

  “Is this what you were dreaming about last night, when Hunter had to knock you out of the bed?”

  Gameknight sighed. Looking down the tracks on a long straightaway, he could see another minecart in the distance, a tangle of vibrant red hair flailing in the breeze; it was Hunter. He wished he had her strength, her courage.

  Nodding his head, he continued. “The last dream was the most real of all. I dreamed I was back at home in the physical world. Actually, I thought I was home, and all this had been a dream, but then a portal opened up in my basement, right next to my desk. Monsters started coming through: zombies, spiders, creepers . . . right into my basement. They went straight up the stairs and into our home. I heard some kind of fighting but didn’t know what was happening.”

  He lowered his voice, ashamed. “I was afraid to go up and look. They could have been attacking my parents, or . . . maybe . . . my sister.” A boxy tear trickled down his face. “But I was too afraid to leave the basement. I just crawled under a desk and hid in the shadows. I couldn’t do anything. I didn’t have any weapons—no armor, nothing. What could I do?”

  He paused, waiting for some kind of answer, but Crafter remained silent, listening, empathy showing on his face. The minecart made a sudden turn, lurching to the left, then straightened again. The sudden jolt shocked Game
knight back into his story.

  “And when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, Erebus came out of the portal. He seemed to know that I was there. He pushed aside the stuff I was hiding under and picked me up by my shirt, holding me up in the air like I was some toy. Then he started to choke me.

  “I could feel that I was dying. I couldn’t breathe, so I started to panic. I was so terrified I couldn’t even think. I just hung there in the monster’s grip as my life slowly ebbed away . . . and then you woke me up. You saved me.” He paused to let the terrifying images slowly recede from his mind. “But there was one thing that I noticed in the dream, something that seems important.”

  “What was that?” Crafter asked softly.

  “Erebus looked more solid than in the first dream . . . more present than not. I think he’s almost here.”

  He reached up and rubbed his neck again where Erebus had choked him. He didn’t really believe that the dream had caused his sore neck—maybe he didn’t want to believe it—but for some reason he kept this fact to himself.

  “Crafter, I’m so afraid all the time. When we went down into that first crafting chamber, I was terrified. And when you wanted to look for survivors in Hunter’s village, I almost didn’t follow you because I was so frightened. I’m on the verge of panic every second . . . I’m not a hero . . . I can’t do this, battle Malacoda and all his Nether monsters. And now it seems that I have to battle Erebus as well.” He sighed, then wiped a tear from his cheek. “I can’t fight these epic battles anymore, defeat these powerful monsters and conquer all their mobs. I’m not a hero, I’m just a scared, cowardly boy.”

  At that, he fell silent.

  Crafter stared at him for a long moment, a look of calm understanding in his eyes, his unibrow curved into a sympathetic arc. Reaching out, he put a blocky hand on Gameknight’s shoulder. As he was about to speak, the minecart did another of its abrupt course changes, zigging to the right, zagging back to the left, then plunging down a steep incline some twenty blocks deep before straightening out again.