Battle with the Wither King

by Mark Cheverton

  “Of course not,” Right said. “I mean the one in the tower. Likely he saw us and reported our presence to the others. That was how the foolish warriors knew to come out of the village. They circled right beneath the tree in which we hid.”

  “Didn’t you see how scrawny and thin he was,” Left said. “That one in the tower could barely hold up his own arms. He is no threat. We should just go back and destroy him.”

  The wither slowed for a moment as Left tried to return to the village, Right and Middle still pushing them away from the village.

  “LEFT!” Middle snapped. “We will return to the wither temple now. Cooperate or be punished when we get home.”

  Left sighed, then acquiesced, helping to push their massive, charred, bony body through the mega taiga forest.

  In the distance, bright green bushes and vines shown between the dark brown trunks of the massive spruce trees. The shadowy forest, with its brown soil and piles of mossy cobblestone, made the vibrant greens of the jungle biome that sat next to the forest seem even brighter. The sight of the junglewood trees and pods of glowing cocoa nestled in the tree branches brought a smile to all three faces.

  Within the jungle sat their hidden wither temple and home. After resting in their stone sanctuary, they would gather their brothers and sisters and visit the NPC village again.

  “When we return, we will take what is rightfully ours,” Middle said. “The villagers can choose their own fate.”

  “I hope they stay and fight,” Left said. “We haven’t destroyed a village for a while. And a good battle will make the gold we take seem even better.”

  “Perhaps you are correct, Left,” Middle said. “Karkan, the king of the withers takes what he wants, and all must bow to us or be destroyed.”

  The three skulls laughed evil, maniacal laughs that made the trees around them cringe in fear.

  Chapter 3 – Insignificants

  “I know I saw the wither king,” Watcher said.

  His friends all nodded their heads. They were meeting in the storeroom that was carved into the side of the crafting chamber deep underground. It was where Watcher and his friends met, and hid. They were the outcasts from the village; NPCs too weak or small or misshapen to be warriors like Carver and the other soldiers.

  “So what?” Farmer answered. “Are you going to do anything about it? Of course not. You’re an Insig like the rest of us.”

  Insig was what the other villagers called their little band; it meant Insignificants. The group of friends had taken on the shorter version of the word to name their band of companions.

  “It doesn’t matter if I’m an Insig or not,” Watcher insisted. “I still saw Karkan . . . I know it.”

  “It doesn’t matter what you know,” Weaver said. She stood and crossed to the other side of the storeroom, her perpetual limp from having one leg longer than the other making a syncopated tha-THUMP, tha-THUMP sound. Sitting down on a bale of hay, she reached out and took a loaf of bread from the chest and took a bite. “All that matters is what you can prove to the warriors. Those thick-headed NPCs can only understand what’s directly in front of them. They have no faith in the Insigs, and in you, Watcher.”

  “Yeah, for g-g-g-ood reason t-t-t-oo,” Saddler stuttered as she stood. She was the tallest of the Insigs, with long blond hair tied in a pony tail that spilled down her back like spun gold. “You’ve imagined l-l-l-lots of things up th-th-th-there in your t-t-t-tower.”

  “I know I have, and I’ve apologized for that lots of times. But this time, I know for sure that I saw the king of the withers, and he is up to no good.”

  “If you’re s-s-so certain, then g-g-go find that monsters and p-p-prove it to the solders.”

  “Yeah, if you can find proof, then the soldiers will believe you.” Harvester added. He was the smallest of the Insigs, though he was the oldest. His small size brought ridicule from the warriors and many of the villagers. “Maybe then, the soldiers like Carver will show you some respect.”

  “HA . . . soldiers showing respect to an Insig,” Farmer said, his unusually tall frame dwarfing the other Insigs. “Never gonna happen.”

  He turned to look at Watcher, but the lanky youth wasn’t really sure if Farmer were looking at him, or Saddler who sat at his side. Farmer had a lazy eye that pointed off to the side, making it hard to tell where he was really looking.

  “I don’t care about respect,” Watcher said. “I care about the people in this village. So I’m going out there to find Karkan and figure out what he’s planning. Any of you going with me?”

  The other Insigs glanced down at the ground, avoiding Watcher’s penetrating gaze.

  “You know we aren’t allowed out of the village,” Weaver said as she limped back across the room to the storeroom door, her curly brown hair bouncing about like tiny little springs. “The last time we went beyond the village walls we all got in trouble. The soldiers had to come and get us. They said we were helpless out there on our own.”

  “And the problem is, you believe them,” Watcher snapped. “Just because we’re Insigs, it doesn’t mean we’re helpless.”

  He glared down at the others, but none looked up.

  “Fine, I’m going on my own. Don’t any of you say anything about where I am until I get back.”

  Watcher stormed to the door and flung it open. He crossed the floor of the crafting chamber, glancing at all the tunnels that plunged downward into the flesh of Minecraft; they were the village’s mineshafts. Along the walls of the chamber sat piles of iron ore, coal, cobblestone, and diamond, but the largest pile shown bright in the torchlight: gold. One of the mineshafts had hit a large deposit of gold, and now blocks of the shining metal filled one corner of the crafting chamber.

  Marching past the gold, Watcher climbed the steps that led out of the crafting chamber and to the surface, determination carved into his face.

  “I’m gonna find Karkan, no matter what,” Watcher said in a low voice, trying to boost his courage.

  But the fact was, he was afraid. Withers were the most feared creatures with the exception of the ender dragon, and Watcher was going to go looking for their king, Karkan . . . it was insane. The thought caused waves of fear to crash down upon him, but the lanky archer was tired of being bullied by the warriors, especially Carver. He was going to show them that this Insig was a valuable member of their community. Watcher just hoped he actually possessed the courage to see this through . . . and not be killed in the process.

  Chapter 4 – Proof

  Watcher slipped out of the village without any difficulty. Few villagers bothered to notice him when he was trying to be seen. Moving about in the shadows and along the walls of buildings seemed to make him nearly invisible. Pulling the gate closed behind him, Watcher dashed through the forest, heading for the tall spruce where he’d seen the wither last. He could have taken a horse from the stable, but he wanted to be close to the ground; it would make picking up the wither’s trail easier . . . he hoped.

  The trees in the mega taiga stretched high into the air, their brown, gnarled trucks stretching up maybe twenty blocks, if not higher, until stubby branches protruded from their side. Watcher always thought the gigantic spruces looked like massive arrows stabbing up at the clouds. He’s imagined many a battle between the leafy spears and the fluffy clouds. Maybe some subterranean giant was trying to spear the clouds so they could be dragged underground and eaten by his wife and children. What if they . . .

  He shook his head and drove the imaginary adventure from his mind. Karkan had been to their village and Watcher had to prove it, somehow. Daydreaming right now would not help.

  Weaving around the trees and past the leafy ferns that grew out of the light brown soil, Watcher finally found the tallest spruce. This was where he’d seen the king of the withers; there must be some evidence, somewhere.

  A gentle east-to-west wind flowed through the forest, causing the leaves on the bushy ferns to rustle ever so slightly, creating a backdrop of peaceful m
usic. In the distance, he could hear wolves howling their song of strength and pride. Watcher knew the majestic animals wouldn’t hurt him, though the warriors always seemed afraid of them.

  He laughed; the soldiers understood little other than the sword and the shield.

  And then his keen eyesight spotted it . . . a leaf on a fern that looked charred.

  Watcher ran to it and looked closely at the plant. He pulled the leaf from the bush and held it up to his eyes. The tips of the fronds were charred and blackened. But it was not as if it had been burned by fire; rather it was as if a deadly disease had eaten away at the plant. Carefully, he put the leaf into his inventory, then scanned the forest before him.

  And then he saw another one, farther away.

  Watcher sped to the next fern. It too was blackened. Karkan had probably brushed against the plant, and the magical power within the monster that gave its flaming skull attack such lethal effects, had likely scarred this bush. Many of the other villagers would have missed these subtle clues, but with Watcher’s incredible eyesight, better than any other NPC in their community, he had been able to spot it.

  “This is a trail I can follow,” Watcher said aloud to the empty forest. “But it is not proof. No one will believe this evidence. I need more.”

  As he looked down at the wilted leaf, fear nibbled at the back of his head like hungry little spiders, causing his feet to grow heavy, his breathing labored.

  “No, I must continue!” he growled to himself. “This Insig will not quit.”

  Pulling out his bow, he continued to follow the trail as the sun slowly neared the western horizon. Orange and red light from the setting sun cast a warm crimson glow on the forest, causing the shadows from the tall spruce trees to lean away from the setting sun as if they were trying to escape the relentless approach of night. The shimmering iridescent glow from his enchanted bow added a splash of purple to the surroundings, giving him a few extra moments of light before the sun finally settled itself below the horizon for its long evening nap.

  Overhead, a million stars sparkled down upon him. Watcher looked up and smiled. He loved nighttime, with the glittery pinpricks of light, and the silvery moon, and the inevitability of dawn just over the horizon. The one thing he didn’t like was the monsters, for nighttime was monster time in Minecraft. But with his sharp eyes, he could see the monsters coming from far away and was never nervous about being outside of the village after dark.

  Following the trail of scorched leaves and scarred trees that marked the wither king’s trail, Watcher moved through the forest, his bow offering enough light to see the telltale signs.

  Suddenly, a noise like that of a cat’s meow reached his ears. Tiny little square goose bumps formed on Watcher’s arms and neck as he scanned the sky.

  “Was that a ghast?” he whispered to the fern at his feet.

  The meow, this time a little different, came again. It was clear the sound was not from the sky, but from the ground. That meant it was not a ghast . . . good. Watcher had no desire to face a ghast all by himself. Gripping his bow tight, he continued forward. Suddenly, the temperature went from cool and dry to something that was hot and extremely humid. The meows grew louder. Before him stood tall, lush green trees with vines hanging down from their limbs like dreadlocks from some kind of Rastafarian. High amidst the branches, orange-ish brown cocoa pods hung, clinging to the vine covered tree trunks. Reaching down, he grabbed a bright yellow flower and put it to his nose, drawing in the rich, fragrant aroma. To his left and right, he saw clusters of melons almost ready to be harvested. Instantly, Watcher knew he was in a jungle biome and before him were junglewood trees. This biome teemed with life. Ocelots meowed all around him as he moved through the dense shrubbery. He felt safe with the wild cats nearby; that meant creepers, with their fear of cats, would stay away.

  Because of his light frame and strong legs (for his size), Watcher was easily able to leap through the jungle, continuing to follow the path, his bow casting a circle of sparkling purple light, allowing him to see. As he wove his way through the dense undergrowth, the jungle began to brighten with a silvery light. Glancing up at the sky, the lanky boy saw the square face of a full moon looking down upon him, illuminating the terrain and giving everything a slightly magical appearance.

  Watcher smiled; he loved the moonlight.

  Suddenly, a terrible, horrific sound echoed through the jungle. It was a hollow sort of wail that was not speech, nor response to another creature; it was just the terrifying howl of something evil and dangerous. At that moment, Watcher realized he’d caught up with the king of the withers, Karkan.

  Putting away his bow so as to hide the purple glow, he moved cautiously through the jungle, making as little noise as possible. A thick junglewood tree, the chocolate-brown cocoa pods hanging just overhead, stood in his path. Climbing up the vines, he moved around the tree and into a cluster of shrubs. When he peeked over the plants, Watcher was shocked at what he saw. Before him was the largest tree he’d ever seen. A massive junglewood tree fifteen blocks wide, stood atop a hill, the thick roots of the tree snaking out like wooden vipers, grabbing ahold of the ground to support the massive plant’s bulk. Branches stretched out in all directions, with vines drooping off the clusters of leaves like long stringy green tears, giving the tree a sad sort of look.

  At the base of the tree, nestled amongst the thick curving roots, Watcher saw a large structure made of mossy cobblestone. Vines spread out across the building as if the jungle were trying to absorb it back into its verdant folds, much of the building recessed into the base of the tree. A gigantic opening stood at the front of the construction, large enough for a ghast to fly through, with tall pillars of stone bordering the entrance. Above the opening, three dark skulls stood out against the gray blocks. They looked as if they guarded the building, though in this creepy place, Watcher couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to go in.

  Suddenly, Karkan floated of the structure followed by a smaller wither. His golden crown shown bright in one of the few patches of open moonlight, reflecting the silvery rays directly into Watchers eyes.

  He ducked down quickly; if Karkan discovered him in the jungle, Watcher wouldn’t have a chance.

  “What do you mean we can’t attack the village?!” Karkan screamed.

  “The zombies are attacking us as we speak,” another wither replied. “The army was sent to repel their assault.”

  “But I need them NOW!” Karkan said. That voice sounded different to Watcher, filled with impatience.

  “I can recall your warriors, sire,” the wither commander replied. “But then the zombies will get to our temple. Those decaying monsters cannot be allowed to enter our sacred home; it is only for withers and no other monster can be granted entrance. None can know of the secrets hidden there.”

  “I know the law, of course,” Karkan replied, this time with a calm and methodical voice. “Perhaps we can assist in the battle against those decaying monsters.”

  “Yes sire.”

  “We will crush the zombies, then return to this village,” Karkan added, this voice sounding mean and vicious. “They have something I desperately need, and I refuse to be denied my prize.

  Watcher crawled forward and dared another peek around the bush. The wither king was now floating a dozen blocks away with his back turned to him, the second monster off to the left and out of sight. But then, Karkan did the strangest thing. The skulls to the left and right turned to the center head and gazed longingly at the gold crown. They licked their lips as is if it were possible to taste the gold, the fanatical craving for the shining metal obvious on their dark faces.

  That’s what he wants, Watcher thought. Karkan wants our gold. The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning.

  Carefully, he slunk back down behind the leafy bush and listened to the monster. This time, Karkan’s voice changed again into something vicious and angry. “Hurry, take me to the battle with the zombies. I will finish that fight so I can destroy
the village and take what is rightfully mine . . . which is everything!”

  The withers floated off, moving deeper into the jungle. In the distance, he could hear the growls and sorrowful wails of the zombies as faint explosions rumbled across the biome.

  “He’s going to destroy our village so he can get to our gold,” Watcher whispered to himself. “I must get back as quickly as possible.

  Fear prickled at every nerve as if tiny needles were jabbing at him from all sides. Standing, he took off running back toward his village. But in the darkness, he misjudged his footing and tripped, falling with a thud.

  “What was that?!” Karkan asked. “Who’s there?”

  Watcher didn’t stay to answer, he just ran for his life and the lives of his fellow villagers.

  “I see you villager!” Karkan bellowed. “Spying on me will do you no good. Soon I will be on your doorstep, and you will answer to the king of the withers for hording all that gold. IT WILL BE MINE!”

  The monster laughed such a maniacal, spine-tingling laugh, that Watcher thought he was going to pass out from sheer fright.

  Then he ran. Springing over bushes and around trees, Watcher tried to weave to the left and right in case the monster fired one of its deadly flaming skulls at him, but no attack ever came. With heart pounded in his chest, more from terror than from fatigue, he dashed through the jungle and then into the forest.

  “I must tell them what I heard,” Watcher said. “But how do I get them to believe me? If they don’t listen to me, then the withers will destroy everything.”

  And as he bolted through the forest, icy fingers of dread wrapped themselves around the last bits of Watcher’s courage and began to squeeze.

  Chapter 5 – Karkan

  Watcher rushed through the forest like a madman. He trampled ferns and crushed patches of brown mushrooms as he streaked through the mega taiga biome, desperate to put as much distance between himself and Karkan as possible. He could still hear the monster’s demonic laughter in the back of his mind, that hollow sort of wail at the end of the chuckle that almost turned his blood to ice.