Bones of Doom

by Mark Cheverton

  The big NPC glared at the boy as if angry at a prank gone awry.

  Watcher stepped out of the room and into the bright light of the rainbow-block room.

  “There’s a bird on your shoulder.” Blaster sounded amazed.

  “It’s so beautiful.” Planter crossed the multicolored floor, following the rainbow path.

  She reached out to the bird. It ruffled its feathers, then flew through the air and landed on her shoulder, squawking excitedly.

  Just then, the other parrots streamed from the chamber like a blast from a squawking confetti-cannon. They flew around the perimeter of the square chamber, their colors merging with those of the colored blocks, then streaked out of the room and into the long tunnel. The red and yellow parrot flew off Planter and landed again on Watcher’s shoulder. It squawked once, then nuzzled its beak against the boy’s neck and stayed put.

  “Looks like you have a little friend.” Planter held a finger out to the bird and stroked its feathery head.

  “Maybe so,” Watcher replied.

  The boy reached for the strange split wand and was about to show it to the others when the parrots returned. But there was something different about them. Instead of squawking or imitating Watcher or the other villagers, the birds were making a strange sound that was difficult to identify.

  “What are those birds doing?” Cutter asked as he stepped out of the sandstone chamber.

  “I don’t know.” Watcher shrugged. “They aren’t really saying anything, just making a noise like—”

  “Like a bunch of sticks rattling together,” Blaster said. The boy pulled on a set of gray-colored leather armor.

  “Sticks rattling together?” Watcher was confused.

  Blaster nodded as he pulled on the gray leather cap, his dark curls sticking out from the sides. “And that can mean only one thing … skeletons.”

  The other villagers gasped and pulled out their weapons.

  “We need to get out of here.” Cutter pushed through the crowd of villagers. “If we get trapped down here, we’re doomed. Come on.”

  The big warrior charged out of the room and into the long tunnel just outside the chamber. The villagers followed Cutter, sprinting through the passages and up the stairs, then emerged into the desert temple.

  “Everyone stay inside until we know what’s going on,” Watcher said.

  The NPCs moved to the walls, some of them trying to peer out of the doorway. Some of them moved into the two towers that loomed over the entrance while others clustered around the main doorway. The sounds of approaching skeletons were easy to hear.

  “You think the monsters are nearby?” Cleric asked. The old man looked scared.

  Watcher shrugged. “Let’s go up top and see.”

  With the parrot still clutched to his shoulder, the boy took the side passage and stairs that led to the top of the structure. Climbing the sandy blocks, Watcher stood on the top of the desert temple and scanned the surroundings. The clattering of skeleton bones rode to them on the winds, but the monsters were not yet visible.

  “This is not good,” Blaster said.

  “Why?” Watcher gazed at his friend as he changed into a set of beige armor.

  “If we can hear the skeletons, but not see them yet, then that means there are a lot of them coming.” Blaster pulled out his knives, their keen edges gleaming in the afternoon sun. “I’ll let you know where they are in a few minutes.”

  The boy quickly replaced his gray armor with something colored a pale yellow, then jumped off the temple and streaked across the parched desert. Blaster quickly disappeared, his armor matching the color of the dry sand.

  “Er-Lan doesn’t mean to interrupt, but …” The zombie stared up at Watcher.

  “But what?”

  “Why not use the birds?” Er-Lan said it as if it was the obvious solution. “The parrots can give the location of the skeletons.”

  “How will we know what the birds find?” Planter asked as she climbed to the top of the temple.

  The zombie shrugged. “Just listen.”

  “You can talk to the parrots?” Watcher asked.

  Er-Lan nodded, seeming confused. “Villagers cannot?”

  Watcher and Planter gave each other a confused look, then turned their gaze back to Er-Lan.

  “Tell them to go out and find the skeletons for us, if you can,” Planter asked. “That would be really helpful.”

  The zombie nodded, then held his arms out. Instantly, four parrots flapped through the air and landed on his shoulders. Turning his head, he whispered something to the birds, his voice sounding like a series of short whistles. They flew off, squawking to their feathery brothers and sisters. Instantly, the rest of the birds flew from the temple and soared into the air, flying in all directions.

  In minutes, a group of birds returned. Er-Lan held out his arms again, signaling the birds to land on him. Instantly, they squawked and screeched, some of them mimicking the sound of the skeletons.

  The zombie’s face grew pale. “They say there is a large group of skeletons heading this way.”

  Suddenly, a huge explosion detonated far from the temple.

  “It seems Blaster found the monsters,” Cutter said from the desert floor.

  Watcher stared out into the pale landscape. A column of smoke climbed into the sky, likely the location of the blast. As he scanned the surroundings, a pale shape streaked across the sands, heading for the temple; it was Blaster. The villagers moved off the top of the temple and back inside the structure. Watcher stood at the structure’s entrance and waited for his friend.

  In seconds, Blaster stepped through the doorway, panting heavily. He removed the beige leather cap and ran his fingers through his curly, dark hair.

  “How many are there?” Cutter asked.

  “You mean after my little surprise?” Blaster smiled, then grew very serious. “Still a lot, and they’re running really, really fast. My explosion slowed them down for a while, but it won’t last long.” He moved closer to Watcher and Cutter and spoke in a low voice. “We can’t fight them out in the open—there are just too many of them.”

  “Then maybe we fight them down in the passages underground,” Planter said. “If we set up some kind of trap to give us the advantage, then maybe we’ll be okay.”

  “That’s a great idea.” Cutter nodded at her, drawing a smile from the girl. “Come on, everyone … into the tunnels.”

  The big warrior charged down the steps with the rest of the villagers following behind, leaving Blaster and Watcher in the temple, alone.

  “Are you coming?” Watcher pulled out his bow and notched an arrow.

  “In a minute.” Blaster removed the rest of his armor, revealing his perpetually wrinkled red and white smock. “I want to make sure they know we’re here, so they’ll follow us into the tunnels.” He put a hand on Watcher’s shoulder. “Your job is to develop some strategy down there. You’re the idea guy. Come up with some kind of brilliant idea so we don’t get wiped out by a bunch of skeletons … you got it?”

  Watcher nodded, then stared at Blaster’s back as he walked casually out of the temple, shouting at the top of his voice. Turning, the archer followed the rest of the villagers into the subterranean passages. The clattering bones of the skeletons diminished a bit as he went further underground, easing his fears a little. But Blaster’s comment made him more nervous.

  “I’m supposed to come up with some kind of great idea that will save everyone?” The responsibility for everyone’s safety felt like a punch in the stomach. Waves of fear rippled down his spine as he tried to come up with some plan that wouldn’t get everyone killed.

  CHAPTER 11

  A tense silence hung in the air as the villagers huddled together in the empty chamber, packed tightly together, the small space not designed for so many occupants. They waited for the skeleton horde to arrive, not knowing how many they would face. But the NPCs knew there was no retreat or surrender; this threat had to be stopped for the sake
of the Far Lands.

  The room was pitch dark; all torches and redstone lanterns extinguished to retain the element of surprise. Watcher stood against one wall next to a group of diggers, while Cutter and the other swordsmen and swordswomen gathered near the chamber entrance, ready to charge toward the skeleton horde when they were near.

  “I hope this works,” Watcher whispered.

  “Shhh,” Planter replied. She placed a hand on his shoulder.

  Watcher was shaking … he knew she could feel it, but her touch had a calming effect, as if having Planter there made everything alright.

  This was my idea and I’m responsible if everything fails. The thoughts bounced around in his head, chipping away at his courage. Images of the terrifying skeletons filled his mind … their protruding ribs … their bony skulls … their lifeless eyes; everything about the monsters filled Watcher with an unshakable desire to curl up in a ball and hide. They reminded him of the awful, recurring nightmare he used to have as a kid. He’d think there were skeletons in his room, trying to attack him. He’d see them in his room and would quickly shut his eyes, hoping the dream went away. Only later, when he was older, did he learn the bigger kids were sneaking into his room and putting armor stands near his bed. He was furious, but the cruel prank had done its damage … skeletons terrified him to his very soul.

  He went through the plan in his head … again, hoping to distract himself from the images in his mind; it didn’t help.

  “Squawk. Squawk … squawk.” Some of the parrots were getting agitated in the darkness.

  “Er-Lan, keep the parrots quiet,” Planter whispered.

  For some reason, Er-Lan had a way with the birds; he could get them to do anything he wanted, and right now, being quiet was critical. The zombie moaned something to the parrots. A few mimicked him briefly, then they all fell silent.

  A rattling sound echoed down the long passage leading to their hiding place.

  “They’re coming.”

  Fear seemed to spread through the chamber like the ripples from a stone dropped in a cold, dark pool. Every time the rattling of bones drifted into the chamber, tiny square goosebumps spread across Watcher’s arms; he was near to panicking.

  Villagers shuffled about nervously, kicking up the ancient dust that covered the floor. It made Watcher want to sneeze, but he put a finger under his nose and suppressed the urge.

  Scratchy voices came to their ears: “I know they’re in here, I saw a villager run down the stairs.” It was from one of the skeletons.

  “Did you check all the rooms off this main hall?” another monster asked, his voice growing louder as they approached.

  “Of course I did,” a skeleton snapped. “They’re all empty. The villagers must be at the end of this tunnel.”

  They were almost to the entrance of their room.

  Cutter lightly tapped his armor once with the hilt of his sword. The warriors pulled out their shields. He tapped it again; they all moved to the doorway.

  “You hear something?” one of the skeletons asked.

  “No … I think you’re going crazy,” his bony companion answered.

  They were right outside, in the hallway.

  Cutter tapped his armor one last time, then charged through the doorway, yelling his battle cry as loud as possible. A flood of warriors followed the big NPC, each with his shield held up high, screaming as loud as they could. At the same time, diggers tore into the stone wall that separated this room from the adjacent. The warriors crashed into the skeletons driving them back. At the same time, someone lit a torch and held it high into the air.

  As the warriors yelled and screamed in the passage outside their chamber, Watcher could hear arrows striking their shields. The shafts hit in rapid succession; it sounded like a hundred drums all playing at the same time. Many of the NPCs warriors shouted in pain as a barbed tip found soft flesh, but they held their ground, yelling at the top of their voices to cover the sound of digging.

  Watcher moved back into the room and checked the diggers’ progress. They had just finished digging through the wall, and were now tunneling into the next room. He peered into the newly formed passage. It was filled with dust as chips of stone flew in all directions, stinging his face as the jagged shards cut into his skin. He was just about to ask how much longer when one of the diggers cheered; they were through.

  “Archers, follow me.” Watcher pulled out his bow and ran through the new tunnel.

  They emerged into the adjacent chamber. It was dark, with no furnaces or fire places to light the area. Someone placed a torch on the ground. The flickering light revealed a cobblestone floor, the remains of broken wooden furniture in the corners, an iron door marking the exit. The archers moved to the door and waited.

  “Everyone ready?” Watcher asked in a quiet voice. The scared soldiers all nodded. “Here we go.”

  Watcher opened the door and moved silently into the passage. Before them stood a group of skeletons, all of them firing at Cutter and his soldiers. The defending villagers had their shields held together, forming a solid barricade of wood and metal, blocking the passage. But Watcher could see cracks across many of the shields; they weren’t going to last much longer.

  “Everyone, draw,” Watcher whispered.

  “Aim.”

  He stilled his body and aimed at a pale monster. His heart pounded in his chest. His throat was dry from all the dust … and fear.

  “FIRE!” His voice echoed off the walls.

  The villagers released their arrows. Their pointed shafts fell upon the skeletons, taking them by complete surprise. Drawing more arrows, the archers continued to fire as the confused monsters tried to figure out what was happening.

  The bony creatures yelled out in pain and surprise. Turning to see what had just attacked, the skeletons snarled and growled, then advanced toward the archers. Watcher knew he was supposed to do something now, but he couldn’t remember the plan; fear ruled his brain. An arrow streaked by him, the feathers at the end brushing past his ear.

  “We have to do something,” someone said nearby, then yelled out in pain.

  “Give the signal,” another called out.

  “What?” Watcher was overwhelmed by the terrifying horde approaching their position.

  The archers fired back, but many were yelling in pain as skeleton arrows found their targets.

  “The signal,” someone said again.

  The signal … I need to … Watcher tried to drive the fear from his mind, and then he remembered.

  “NOW!” Watcher yelled as loud as he could.

  Instantly, the swordsmen and swordswomen lowered their shields and charged, shouting their battle cries again. The skeletons turned back toward the charging soldiers, allowing the archers to get another volley off before they too drew their swords and attacked.

  Both groups of soldiers closed in on the skeletons attacking them from both sides. Watcher held Needle in his right hand, a dark blue shield in his left. He was pushed forward by those behind, moving closer to the nightmarish creatures. He wanted to fight, but he was so scared … he couldn’t even think.

  Just then, a pair of arrows struck the villager next to him. He cried out in pain, his HP dangerously low. The villager glanced at Watcher, terrified, then a third arrow struck him, taking the last of his health. He disappeared, a scared expression on his square face.

  Watcher turned and glared at the NPC’s killer. The monster turned his bow toward Watcher and pulled back on the string. A fury like he’d never known took over Watcher’s mind. He charged forward, his sparkling, enchanted blade moving quickly, knocking aside an arrow Watcher hadn’t even seen yet. The monster fired, but that shaft was knocked aside with ease. When he reached the skeleton, his sword was a shimmering blur. He slashed at the creature, quickly destroying the monster’s HP, then turned and attack the nearest enemy. Swinging to the left then to the right, he knocked bows from skeletal hands, then tore into their HP. Using the edges of his vision, Watcher kept an e
ye on those near him, lending his blade to any needing help. He moved without thought, driven by rage, as if someone else controlled his motions.

  A small handful of skeletons, those wearing armor, were equipped with swords, but most only had bows. In close quarters, the monsters’ arrows were no match for the iron blades of the villagers. In minutes, the battle was over.

  All across the floor, piles of skeleton bones and glowing balls of XP littered the passage … but so did the inventories of fallen villagers.

  “What took you so long?” Cutter asked. “We heard you shoot, but then you didn’t give the signal.”

  “I hesitated,” Watcher said, lowering his gaze to the ground in shame. He saw the items from his fallen comrades and was overwhelmed with grief. “Some of the archers … are gone. I froze. I shouldn’t be leading them.”

  “We’ll see, Watcher, but for now, I’m in command of this army, and I’ve put you in charge of the archers.” Cutter glared down at the boy. “So get over it, and get it done next time.”

  “You two having a nice chat?” Blaster asked with a grin. Both looked away. “I take that to mean ‘No’. Okay then.” He patted each of them on the back, then smiled again. “I think it best we get out of here before more skeletons show up. I saw their whole army, and this was just the smallest portion … likely just a bunch of scouts. There are more of them out there.”

  “I think you’re right.” Cutter put away his sword. “We need to get out of here.”

  “Where should we head?” Cleric asked.

  Cutter looked at Watcher and raised his unibrow in question.

  The weight of responsibility fell upon his shoulders again as more eyes turned toward him. “We need to find the next ancient relic before the skeletons find it.” Watcher nervously wiped his brow.

  “But we didn’t find anything here, right?” Winger asked.

  Reaching into his inventory, he pulled out the gold-capped wand with the split end and held it up for all to see.

  “What does it do?” Cleric asked.

  “I tested it in that chamber with the parrots. It seems to make a copy of whatever it’s aimed at.” Watcher held the wand up for others to see. He pulled it back when Blaster reached for it. “Just like with the zombie warlord’s enchanted armor, this thing gets its power from the wielder; it hurts to use.”