Gameknight999 vs. Herobrine

by Mark Cheverton

  Looking nervously around at the dark forest that surrounded them, Gameknight drew his enchanted bow. It cast an eerie iridescent blue glow on the mossy cobblestone, pushing back the dark blanket of night just a little bit. The shrill sound was just a murmur with the wool in his ears, but the User-that-is-not-a-user took them out momentarily to listen for monsters, hoping they would be safe for a while longer. But aside from the noise coming from Herobrine’s ender chest, which, even in small doses, was burrowing underneath his skin, he heard nothing to suggest more of the enemy were upon them.

  Gameknight turned back to their encampment to find everyone was already on their feet and ready to move. The wolves that had been patrolling the forest while they slept now returned, sensing that their master, Herder, was awake. But where the wolves typically rushed to be close to their master, they now seemed nervous when Herder approached. The strangest part, Gameknight noticed, was that Herder, usually so in tune with his pack, didn’t even notice. Staring down at the ender chest he held under one arm, it was as though he was off in another world entirely.

  “Come on, let’s get moving,” Hunter said, her voice edged with agitation. “I want to get rid of this chest as soon as possible so I can finally hear myself think again.”

  “Agreed,” Digger said in a low voice. “We need to get moving before any monsters find us.”

  “That’s what I just said,” snapped Hunter. Digger scowled back at her, then adjusted her wool ear plugs, which had come loose while she’d slept.

  “Right, let’s go,” Crafter added. “Herder, send out your wolves ahead of us.”

  The boy nodded, his long, dark hair hanging over his square face. He knelt down to speak to one of the wolves, hoping to whisper in its ear, but it backed away. Herder looked confused for a moment, but then shrugged.

  “Protect, that way,” the young boy said, pointing to the north.

  The wolf barked once, then ran to the north, the rest of the pack spreading out as they moved off.

  “Great, let’s go,” Crafter said as he patted the boy on the back.

  Herder spun and gave the NPC an angry frown, pulling the ender chest close to him as if he was afraid someone else wanted it, but Crafter was already moving past him. Herder’s scowl faded and he turned to follow the rest of the party.

  Gameknight and Monkeypants looked at each other, both noticing Herder’s strange behavior, and gave a quizzical look. Not stopping to ask any questions, they both took off running, bringing up the rear with Baker at their side.

  As they ran, Gameknight spoke to the NPC. “Baker, I saw the enchanted pickaxe you used on the spiders last night,” he said. “Where did you get such a fabulous tool?”

  The NPC flashed his steel-blue eyes at Gameknight while he ran, clearly annoyed.

  “Yes, that pick looks fantastic,” Monkeypants added. “You must have a great story about how you found it.”

  “Yeah, how did you get it?” Stitcher asked as she ran, the merciless whining driving suspicion into her voice.

  Baker glanced at Stitcher between strides, then found everyone’s eyes on him. The sun had now risen, and it was casting golden shafts of sunlight through the foliage, easing all of their spirits. Giving them a forced smile, he began the story.

  “My pickaxe is a family heirloom,” the NPC began. “It has been passed down through our family for generations.”

  “How old is it?” Crafter asked.

  Baker pulled the enchanted tool out of his inventory and held it in his boxy hands as he ran. Waves of purple magic pulsed along the handle and across the sharp diamond end as if it was alive, lighting his face with a cerulean glow.

  “They say it was given to Carver, my great great great grandfather, back during the Great Zombie Invasion,” Baker said proudly, “by Smithy himself!” He said it with a confidence and certainty that no one would dare challenge him.

  “Smithy of the Two-Swords gave it to your ancestor?” Gameknight asked.

  “You don’t believe me?” Baker snapped. “You calling me a liar?”

  “Be at ease, Baker,” Monkeypants said reassuringly. “No one doubts your claim.”

  “Not claim. Fact,” the NPC added.

  “Yes, of course, fact,” Monkeypants replied. “Do you know how your ancestor . . . ahh . . . Carver received it?”

  “Of course. Our family tells the story every year when we celebrate Smithy’s birthday—that is, we used to tell the story.” Baker paused as sadness and pain filled his eyes. “Now that my family is gone, likely no one will ever hear the story.”

  “Maybe you could tell us,” Crafter said, “so that we could continue to tell the story of your ancestors.”

  Baker looked at Crafter, then nodded his head as he slowed to a walk, the rest of the party following suit.

  “It was given to Carver just before the Battle of Midnight Bridge,” Baker explained. Monkeypants started to ask a question, but the NPC raised his hand to let him know he would elaborate. “Midnight Bridge was made of obsidian. It spanned a gigantic chasm, allowing NPCs to avoid having to travel around a range of extreme hills. During the Great Zombie Invasion, the monsters were on the opposite side of the chasm and wanted to cross so that they could attack the villages in the west. For some reason, Smithy of the Two-Swords gave the pickaxe to Carver and left him in command. He told him to use the pickaxe on the bridge if they couldn’t hold back the monsters, destroying the bridge, if necessary.

  “The monsters sent wave after wave across the bridge, slowly pushing the NPCs back, but then Fletcher used the pick as a weapon instead of a tool and led a counterattack that drove the deadly mob back. Many lives were lost in that battle, Carver’s own son included, but the NPCs won the day and were able to keep control of the bridge.”

  Baker paused for a moment and smiled, thinking about his victorious ancestor, but then he frowned.

  “After the battle, Smithy told my great-great-great-grandfather the strangest thing,” Baker said. “He said to keep the pickaxe and pass it down from generation to generation, but to only give it to the Bakers of the family.”

  “The Bakers?” Stitcher said. “Why?”

  The NPC turned his steely-blue eyes on the young girl and shrugged.

  “I don’t know, but that’s how the story was passed from Carver all the way down to me.” His mood then grew dark. “Now I have no one to pass the pickaxe to; my ancestral line ends with me. I’ve failed Carver and Smithy of the Two-Swords.”

  Everyone grew quiet as they walked, Baker’s sadness casting a dark mood on the company. Gameknight looked at the NPC and felt sorry for him. The loss he’d experienced because of Herobrine was unthinkable. Glancing at the ender chest, the User-that-is-not-a-user wanted to smash the dark box and destroy the poisonous XP, but knew that would only release the monster again.

  But then he noticed the rich grass before him, red and blue and yellow flowers standing out against the green, swaying blades. The tree branches overhead moved about in the east to west breeze, their leaves full of healthy vigor. Signs of life were everywhere around them; Minecraft was alive and strong and would not yield to Herobrine’s tyranny—not while the User-that-is-not-a-user had anything to say about it.

  A smile spread across his boxy face as he looked at all the life that surrounded him. Glancing at his friends, he could see the same looks on their faces; there was hope in their eyes.

  “Don’t worry, Baker, we’ll figure this out,” Gameknight said in a strong voice. He reached up and pushed the wool even deeper into his ears, muting the never-ceasing whine just a little more. “We won’t let Herobrine defeat us, no matter what!”

  The User-that-is-not-a-user looked ahead. He could see they were coming to the end of the mega taiga biome—the tall spruce trees were giving way to a narrow stretch of grassland—but beyond the grassland was an extreme hills biome, the sheer mountains far too steep to climb. It looked like a solid wall of jagged stone peaks that stretched across the horizon in both directions, makin
g it impossible to climb over or to even go around.

  “How do we get past that?” Gameknight asked, pointing to the mountains.

  “Two-Sword Pass is just ahead, cutting through those mountains,” Crafter explained. “We will use that and be through to the desert in no time.”

  “I would like to have been there when Smithy used his two swords for the first time,” Stitcher said, “That must have been amazing to see. It was a turning point for the war and brought all the NPCs together under his command.”

  Gameknight could hear the awe and pride in her voice when she spoke of Smithy. He was a legendary figure in NPC history, maybe the most important ever. The User-that-is-not-a-user would have liked to meet Smithy of the Two-Swords. His life changed the course of history and likely saved thousands of villager lives. If only I could possess a fraction of the bravery that Smithy had, he thought to himself, they all might make it out of this mess alive.

  “The monsters will never expect us to use this pass,” Crafter explained. “I’m not even sure they know it exists. Its mere existence is a closely guarded secret. If the monster kings know we are going north, I bet they will expect us to go around these mountains to get to the northern desert. I would love to see Xa-Tul’s face when we come out of the pass on the other side. If all goes well, we could be rid of Herobrine’s XP in no time.”

  “That can’t happen soon enough,” Digger said.

  They all nodded, then shifted to a run again, excited to soon be rid of the terrible ender chest. Herder drew up alongside Gameknight as they moved, and Gameknight glanced down at his friend. The young boy had his arm closest to Gameknight’s curled tightly around the chest, but as Herder looked back and met the User-that-is-not-a-user’s gaze, he shifted the box to his other arm. It almost looked as if he were protecting it from the Gameknight . . . as if he thought Gameknight might try to take it from him. There was just something about the look on the young boy’s face that seemed off.

  What’s going on with Herder? Gameknight thought as he stared at the lanky youth, the boy’s eyes glazing over slightly. It’s a stressful time for all of this, but it feels like my friend is dealing with it worse than everyone else. I hope he knows that we will all gladly share this burden.

  Gameknight, at first, was concerned for the boy, but then he found himself wondering if Herder could even be trusted with that chest.

  What if he drops it? What if he accidentally opens it? What if he leaves it behind? he thought as he ran. It would probably be better to let someone else carry the box for a while, someone older and with a little more experience and knowledge.

  Gameknight shook his head, trying to clear away the increasingly paranoid thoughts. Don’t be ridiculous. Herder has more than earned the right to bear this responsibility, and it’s clear that he’s just taking pride in his work. That cursed whining sound is making me imagine things and trying to distract me from the real problems ahead.

  He looked away from Herder and stared at the approaching line of mountains. All he could see was one giant, impenetrable wall of stone. It was an awesome structure, but a terrifying one. As they got closer and closer, the mountains looming over his head, an unsettling feeling formed deep in Gameknight999’s stomach. There was some dark secret hidden there, he was sure of it, and he knew they would find out what it was soon enough.

  CHAPTER 12

  THE CAT WAITS FOR THE MOUSE

  Feyd watched with a satisfied grin on his hideous face as his endermen teleported into the large cave, each with their dark hand on the shoulder of a zombie, spider, or skeleton. The chamber was large, at least thirty blocks across and maybe a dozen high. The ceiling was roughly carved and uneven, where the builders had probably hit gravel and it had spilled on the floor, creating the undulating ceiling. Feyd always wondered how these caves were created in the first place. He suspected they were something left over from the first zombie invasion a hundred years ago, likely built by the NPCs. They had been discovered by the monsters many decades ago, and in recent years had proved very useful to their survival.

  The king of the endermen struggled to count the monsters present. A cloud of purple teleportation particles filled the chamber, making it difficult to see exactly how big of a mob stood in front of him. The rate at which the tall monsters were disappearing and then reappearing with new monsters in tow made the purple haze a thick fog. By the volume of moaning zombies, clicking spiders, and rattling skeletons, he could tell his endermen were nearly finished moving the army to the hidden caves at either end of Vo-Lok’s Pass. Smiling at the cleverness of his plan, he approached the spider queen, who had just appeared on the arm of one of his generals.

  “Shaivalak, I hope our mode of transportation was not too unpleasant for your spiders,” Feyd said. “Some monsters find it disturbing.”

  “It doessss not matter,” the spider queen said. “My sssspiders will do what they are told. It issss of no importance whether they find it unpleassssant or not. We sssserve the Maker.”

  Feyd nodded in agreement, impressed with her commitment to their master.

  “The Maker will hear of how you faithfully served him in this endeavor,” the king of the endermen said. “He will be pleased with you.”

  “The Maker will be pleased with Xa-Tul as well,” a voice boomed from behind him.

  Turning, Feyd saw the zombie king striding toward him, his metallic chainmail reflecting the light from the purple mist, making it look as if he were robed in majestic lavender cloth.

  “What are you doing here?!” the enderman snapped. “You are supposed to be commanding the army at the other end of the pass.”

  “And leave the king of the endermen to claim all the credit for our impending victory? Xa-Tul is not a fool.” The king of the zombies strode up to Feyd and growled, his clawed fingers brushing against the hilt of his golden broadsword. “Xa-Tul will stay by the enderman’s side to make sure that everything is done properly. When the zombies free the Maker’s XP from his prison, it will be known that Xa-Tul was there to see it completed.”

  Feyd’s eyes began to glow white with rage. He wanted nothing more than to destroy this bombastic fool, but he had to admit that the zombie king was still useful to him. The zombies were a cumbersome but necessary part of this army; they made excellent cannon fodder, so as much as he wanted to be rid of him immediately, he still needed that air-headed brute of a zombie king around. Without the king of the zombies, his subjects might not want to follow Feyd’s commands. The decaying green monsters were afraid of Feyd, of that much he could be certain, but they truly feared and respected Xa-Tul and would do anything he said. Besides, after all he’d been through, the king of the endermen had learned the hard way not to underestimate Gameknight999, and having disposable zombies was a clear advantage to the enderman.

  Feyd glared at Xa-Tul. “Very well,” he said through gritted teeth. The zombie king gave him a self-satisfied grin, as though he’d won some kind of contest.

  The fool, Feyd thought. When the Maker is freed and we have dealt with the User-that-is-not-a-user, I will very much enjoying dealing with this idiot of a zombie once and for all.

  Turning, the king of the endermen looked down at the spider queen.

  “Shaivalak, send out your spiders to keep watch for the User-that-is-not-a-user and his friends,” Feyd said.

  “Yes . . . do that,” Xa-Tul added as if it were his idea in the first place.

  The enderman rolled his eyes, but continued.

  “Be sure to tell your spiders to stay to the shadows. Gameknight999 and his friends must not know we are here until they are already trapped in the pass.” Feyd turned and faced Xa-Tul. “Anything you’d like to add?”

  “Ahh . . . yes, stay hidden, that’s a good idea,” the zombie king mumbled.

  Feyd chuckled evilly, then shook his head and walked to the entrance to watch the spiders stream out of the cave, crawling along the walls and ceiling, scaling the sheer faces of the mountain with ease before disappearing o
ut into the Overworld beyond.

  Leaning out of the opening just a bit, Feyd checked the sun. It would be setting in a few hours. He’d hoped the foolish User-that-is-not-a-user would not arrive until after dark; the zombies and skeletons would fight much better in the dark, as their fear of the sun would be gone from their minds, but he had little control over this aspect of the battle.

  As he moved back into the cave, the enderman heard a rapid clicking sound approaching from outside. Stepping away from the entrance, Feyd watched the opening with his fists clenched, ready for battle, or even for one of Gameknight999’s stupid tricks. But it was only a lone spider with blazing red eyes that scurried into the cave, moving along the wall, then settling on the ground. The spider moved to her queen and spoke quietly into her ear. Shaivalak’s purple eyes blazed bright as she heard the news. She swiveled her multiple eyes toward Feyd.

  “They approach!” the spider queen said as she moved toward the shadowy monster. “They were sssseen moving acrossss the plain, moving directly toward the passsss.”

  “Excellent,” Feyd said, smiling to himself.

  “Let’s go,” Xa-Tul boomed. “It is time to attack!”

  “Not yet, you overeager ogre,” Feyd snapped.

  Xa-Tul reached for his sword and drew it halfway out of its scabbard. Instantly, a dozen endermen teleported around the zombie king, a purple mist surrounding the monsters. This aggressive move brought growls from the other zombies in the room.

  “Be calm,” Feyd shouted. “Everyone be calm.”

  He then moved close to the zombie king, his teleportation powers held at the ready.

  “We want them trapped inside the pass,” Feyd said in a quiet voice. “If we go out too soon, they will simply run away.”

  “Then we will chase them,” Xa-Tul said, his booming voice echoing off the walls of the cave.

  “No, we cannot risk having them hide the Maker’s XP from us,” the enderman explained. “Our best chance is to trap them in the pass.”