Bones of Doom

by Mark Cheverton

  “They’ll see you.” Watcher reached up for the torch.

  Blaster smiled and gently pushed him back.

  Drawing a sword from his inventory, Blaster banged it on his chest plate, creating as much noise as he could.

  “Spiders are filthy, cowardly creatures!” His voice echoed across the forest. “The spider warlord is the biggest coward of them all. I don’t see her out here. She must be skulking in some cave, hiding with creepers!”

  Instantly, angry clicks filled the air. The red eyes all turned toward Blaster, then grew larger as they approached.

  “They’re coming, flip the switch.” Watcher’s voice sounded anxious.

  “Hold …” Blaster’s voice was strong and clear.

  “Archers, get to the wall and be ready.” Winger’s voice floated up to them from the forest floor.

  “They won’t be necessary,” Blaster said.

  “They’re getting closer,” someone said.

  “Hold …” Blaster’s voice was like iron.

  Cutter pushed his way to the tree tops and stared at the oncoming storm of spiders. He drew his diamond sword and started to advance. Blaster grabbed the back of his enchanted iron armor and pulled him back.

  “Hold …” the boy said again.

  Cutter growled his frustration but held his position.

  The moon had risen, and now the spiders were bathed in the silvery lunar glow. There were maybe twenty-five of them and they seemed frothing with rage as they charged toward the group.

  “Did I mention the spider queen is a coward?” Blaster shouted.

  The spiders screeched and ran faster, charging straight toward Blaster.

  “Almost there,” he whispered. “Almost there … and … NOW!”

  Reaching down, Blaster flipped the lever at his feet. Instantly, the line of redstone dust turned bright red, burning a crimson glow across the treetops. The glow dimmed as it moved farther from the lever, but when it reached the repeater, the redstone became brighter. The radiant dust stretched off across the treetops until …

  BOOM … BOOM, BOOM … BOOM, BOOM, BOOM …

  TNT blocks detonated behind the spiders, pushing them forward. Those that survived were then hit from the left and right by more explosives, delayed by just a couple of seconds. As they struggled to stand, the main battery of explosives detonated, tearing a huge hole in the forest and swallowing the spiders in the bright, fiery maw of Blaster’s trap.

  “Archers, get ready to attack,” Winger’s voice said on the forest floor.

  Blaster turned and glanced at Watcher, a huge smile on the boy’s face. “I don’t think that’s gonna be necessary.” He slapped Er-Lan on the back and laughed. “That was fun.”

  Er-Lan just growled something unintelligible.

  Watcher stared out at the forest. None of the spiders survived the explosion, or if they had, they had been wounded and thrown to the forest floor. Likely, they’d be running away as fast as they could.

  “I found it!” Mapper exclaimed.

  Watcher moved down to the forest floor and peered over Mapper’s shoulder.

  “There’s an ancient temple in the desert, not far from here.” The old man marked the position on a map, then closed the book and shut the linked ender chest. Putting the chest back into his inventory, he stood on wobbly legs and smiled. “We keep going south, and when we hit the savannah, we head south-west, toward the desert. We’ll be there tomorrow.”

  “Great, let’s get moving,” Cutter said.

  The army continued to the south, eyes watching the dark forest with renewed concern. Spiders were usually solidary creatures and did not like working together. But with such a large group of spiders in the treetops, it could only mean the spider warlord was becoming more active.

  I wonder what the spider warlord is up to, Watcher thought. The last thing we need right now is another warlord to deal with.

  He shook almost imperceptibly as thoughts of a spider army floated through his mind. Something about the whole scene nagged at him, but with so many other dangers around them, it quickly was swallowed up by other fears and concerns.

  With a sigh, he followed the rest of the army, weaving around trees as his keen eyes scanned the forest for more monsters.

  CHAPTER 8

  The temperature in the savannah was much higher compared to the forest biome, but it was nothing compared to the desert. Watcher had never been in a desert before and wasn’t prepared for the sweltering fist of heat that slammed into him when he stepped onto its sandy ground.

  Beads of sweat instantly trickled down from his forehead, most of them being trapped by his wide, reddish-brown unibrow, though some of the moisture managed to make it past the fuzzy barrier and leak into the corners of his eyes. Reaching to his face, Watcher wiped away the stinging sweat and glanced around at the parched terrain.

  The villagers passed through the warm savannah through the evening and into the early morning. Now, with the sun having just risen, they moved into the desert, the full and crushing heat of the sun blaring down upon them.

  “I heard there are villages in the desert in some parts of the Overworld.” Mapper drank from a bottle of water. “It’s a mystery why anyone would choose to live in these conditions.”

  “Sometimes it is not choice, but necessity,” the young zombie said. “If one is born in the desert, then the desert becomes home.”

  “Perhaps you’re right, Er-Lan.” Mapper nodded, then grew silent as he contemplated the statement.

  “How much farther must we go?” Watcher asked.

  The old NPC pulled out the map and held it up, comparing it to their surroundings. “Well, I can see that mountain range over there corresponds to this one on the map.” Mapper pointed to the steep, sandstone mountains, then dragged a finger across the map. “There should be a river ahead, then after we climb the next sand dune, we should be able to see the desert temple.”

  “Then let’s move faster,” Cutter said. “We’ve had enough of a break. It’s time to run again.”

  Many of the villagers moaned, but they all knew the big NPC was right.

  Cutter charged across the hot sands, having removed his iron armor while they were walking. The metallic coating had almost been too hot to touch already; it would have been unbearable in the full heat of noon. The rest of the villagers kept pace with the warrior, running while drinking water or potions of rejuvenation. Many were encouraged to eat, keeping their hunger at a minimum so their HP would stay high. They moved across the sand dunes and around dried scrub brush. Green cacti were the only things with any semblance of life in the arid domain, the prickly plants like silent sentinels, watching the intruders as they passed.

  “I can hear water up ahead.” Watcher’s hearing was the best in the village, like his eyesight. The young boy ran faster, now sprinting.

  They crested a large dune, then raced down the other side, some of them stumbling and rolling down to the river at the foot of the hill.

  Watcher splashed into the stream and just fell backward, the cool water reviving his overheated body. It was the greatest thing he’d ever felt. The heat was pulled from him, refreshing not just his body, but also his mind. Holding a hand over his face, he blocked out the harsh rays that were now pummeling them with the relentless power of the sun, the noonday heat nearly unbearable.

  Cutter pointed to a couple of villagers. “Go take over for the scouts. They need to get into the water and cool off.”

  They nodded and ran off to the points of the compass to find and relieve the distant sentries.

  Watcher climbed out of the river and sat on the bank, letting his legs dangle in the cool water. Suddenly, he was covered with water as someone dropped into the river right next to him. A joyous laugh greeted his ears as he turned and found Planter in the water smiling up at him. He offered a hand to help her out. She grabbed hold and climbed out of the river and sat next to him. But instead of just releasing the grip, he held on for a moment, staring down at t
heir hands. Her hand felt electric, as if their nerves were all singing in harmony.

  “Ah … Watcher … you gonna let go?” She laughed.

  “Oh, yeah.” He released his grip, but let his fingers drag against hers.

  What am I doing? He was confused. That was something he saw his mother and father do many times when he’d been younger. Doing that to Planter seemed weird, but also felt right, making his chest feel lighter, as if he could fly.

  Planter glanced at him, equally confused. She was about to say something to him when Mapper plopped down on the other side of Watcher.

  “What do you think the skeletons will do when they find the village and Wizard’s Tower deserted?” he asked the two of them.

  “I bet they’ll try to follow us,” Planter said.

  “Maybe, but I think it’s more likely they’ll continue hunting for magical artifacts.” Watcher looked away from Planter, embarrassed. He stood and brushed the sand from his leggings. “That skeleton we captured said something about knowing where many of the artifacts were located. They’ll probably head for the closest artifact on their map.”

  “That’ll be this desert temple,” Mapper said, his voice becoming very serious.

  Watcher nodded. He glanced around for Cutter, but couldn’t find him. “Then we better get there before the skeletons do.” Watcher leapt into the air and placed a block of sand under his feet, then did it again so he was two blocks high. “I know you’re all tired, but this is a race, and if we come in second place, things will likely get very bad. We need to find as many magical weapons as we can so the skeletons won’t get them. If the monsters get them, they’ll be used on villagers like you and me…. We need to get moving.”

  Without waiting to see the reaction of the other villagers, Watcher jumped to the ground and climbed the sand dune that hugged the far side of the river. As he jumped from block to block, slowly ascending the gradual slope, the sound of soggy feet thumping on sand filled the air from behind.

  Watcher smiled.

  “Aren’t you the motivated villager?” Blaster said to his right.

  “If the skeletons are out looking for relics, then we need to do the same to maintain the balance of power,” Watcher said as he wiped his brow, then glanced at his friend.

  Blaster wore no armor nor cap. His dark hair was a tangle of black, interlocking curls that stuck out in all directions, and his red-and-white smock was wrinkled and dirty, as usual.

  “If either side gains more power than the other, that’s when the war will start.” As he thought about the idea of war, Watcher could feel tension building not only in his body, but also in his mind, everything stretching tighter and tighter. Cleric moved up to his other side and leaned in close, listening.

  Watcher lowered his voice so only Blaster and his father could hear. “We must keep the relics out of the hands of the warriors. If they realize we have more power than the monsters, they’ll likely want to attack and destroy them all, right dad?”

  Cleric nodded, a proud expression on his wrinkled face.

  “We must not let the future of the Far Lands become embroiled in a war that will destroy everything.” Watcher glanced over his shoulder at the other villagers following him up the sand dune. “We have much to protect, and war is not the best solution. We can’t let that happen.”

  “The future is already written,” a growling voice said.

  Er-Lan moved next to Cleric, the zombie’s leaps up the sandy blocks synchronized with his own.

  “What do you mean?” Watcher asked.

  The zombie sighed. “The future has already been determined, and the creatures of the Far Lands have already been given their parts to play.” Er-Lan gazed at Watcher. “All one can do is accept what will happen and …” A single tear tumbled from his eye. “And mourn those who will be lost to fate.”

  “Er-Lan, are you okay?” Watcher tried to reach out and place a hand on his shoulder, but Er-Lan moved away, then cast his gaze to the ground.

  “It is not important,” Er-Lan said.

  “Clearly it is important, to you.” Watcher was concerned for his friend.

  “Er-Lan says too much,” the zombie grumbled in a low voice. “And Er-Lan sees too much.”

  “What?” both Watcher and Blaster asked, the friends confused.

  The monster didn’t answer, instead, he slowed, then stopped, likely to put distance between himself and the villagers.

  Watcher glanced at Blaster and his father. “Either of you understand that?”

  They both shook their heads.

  Cleric looked back at the zombie, then spoke in a low voice. “Not really, but he seems like he’s hurting over something. Maybe that’s just the zombie way.”

  “No, this is something different … something important.” Watcher wiped his brow again. “I think I need to—”

  “There it is!” Blaster exclaimed.

  They’d reached the top of the dune. Before them, a desert temple sat on a pristine patch of sand, not a single footprint visible anywhere. Watcher ran down the slope and sprinted for the ancient structure. It looked like a huge pyramid made of sand and sandstone, with tall, square turret-like structures on either side. The looming towers were embedded with orange blocks of wool. The decorative pattern was in the simple layout of a cross, with a set of blocks across the top. To most, it was just some geometrical arrangement, but to Watcher’s keen eye, the design was like the shape of a person with an orange helmet being lowered onto his head, the helmet matching the person’s skin or armor. It felt like a message or a clue cast onto the endless river of time hundreds of years ago by the ancients, and now its wait had finally ended as Watcher burned the image into his memory, though he had no idea what it meant.

  Blaster punched him in the arm. “You comin’?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Watcher looked back at the villagers still climbing the hill. “The temple is on the other side of the sand dune … we’re there.” The villagers cheered. “Come on, everyone.”

  Watcher and Blaster ran down the hill while Cleric waited to help Mapper, the rest of the army following. They approached the entrance and went in, carefully looking for traps or tripwires. The sandy structure was noticeably cooler inside, the ancient building able to withstand centuries of exposure to the desert heat.

  To either side of the doorway, passages stretched off into the two side towers, steps visible going up into the parallel structures. Moving farther into the sandy building, Watcher could feel the immense age of the place. A thick layer of dust covered the floor, likely undisturbed since the end of the Great War. Sunlight streamed through a hole in the very top of the pyramid, the rays scattering off the many particles of dust, making the air sparkle as if enchanted.

  He moved further into the structure, finding four thick columns that stretched up from the floor to the pale ceiling. Colorful blocks were embedded into the floor, creating a geometric pattern of oranges and yellows, a single blue cube at the center. Off to the side, a set of stairs were carved into the sandy ground, leading down into the darkness.

  “This way.” Watcher pulled out another torch and placed it by the stairway, then held another in his hand as he descended.

  A purple glow covered the narrow steps as he went down. Behind him, Planter followed with her golden axe in her hands, the magical enchantment pulsing within the weapon splashing an iridescent glow on the walls. The rest of the NPC army followed Watcher, cautiously entering the descending passage.

  The stairs were ancient, their surface scuffed and worn by the thousands of feet that used these steps hundreds of years ago. Cracks spread across many of the stairs, showing their age.

  They descended deep underground, the staircase turning to the left, then right until it ended at the opening to a long hallway. Redstone lanterns glowed overhead, offering faint illumination, pushing back the shadows. All along one wall, metal doors stood closed, each separating the passage from large rooms. Watcher opened a couple of the iron doors only to find
empty rooms. All had furnaces lining one wall, some with fires still smoldering within, while others were dark and cold.

  The corridor stretched off into the distance for at least thirty blocks, with doors located only on the right side of the tunnel. The left side seemed to leak bits of ash and the occasional drop of lava; Watcher was sure there was a huge lava lake on the other side of those stone blocks.

  They followed the passage to the end, where it turned to the right, then opened into a large, deserted chamber, the walls, floor, and ceiling made of impenetrable bedrock. Redstone lanterns embedded in the corners of the room cast some light into the room, but the dark gray of the bedrock made it feel as if Watcher were standing inside an endless shadow.

  On the far wall, an iron door stood closed, a button mounted next to it. A wooden sign hung over the top of the door. Watcher moved closer and held his torch up high.

  “Can anyone read it?” he asked.

  Cutter stood beneath the sign and reached up, brushing off the centuries of dust that covered the writing. Coughing as he breathed in the dust, the big NPC stepped back.

  “What’s it say?” Planter asked.

  Watcher moved closer and held his torch up high. “It says ‘THE END OF RAINBOWS.’ That’s a strange thing to put over a door.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Winger asked. “Is it a warning … all rainbows are gonna go away?”

  “It’s not a warning … it’s a hint,” Cleric said. “The sign is giving us some piece of information we need.”

  They both glanced at Mapper, hoping for some insight from the old villager.

  Clearing his throat, Mapper spoke in a low voice. “Maybe we should just open the door and see what’s inside.”

  Watcher nodded, then stepped forward and pressed the button. Instantly, the iron door creaked open, revealing a dark chamber. When he took another step, his foot pressed down on a pressure plate hidden in the shadows. A click sounded from beneath the floor. Torches flared into life around the walls of the chamber, throwing a warm yellow glow across the ancient room.

  With a gasp of surprise, Watcher stepped back, allowing the others to see. “No one enter … just look.”