Bones of Doom

by Mark Cheverton

  A squid swam into the shallow water, curious about the creatures walking through the water. Rusak pulled out his bow and fired three quick shots at the creature, erasing it from the Far Lands.

  Ratlan smiled and congratulated his general, but Rusak ignored the false praise.

  “You saw all the villagers with that boy-wizard … right?” the general asked.

  “Sure.”

  “My fear is there might be more descendants of the wizards amongst the villagers. These young wizards of the Far Lands might be awakening to their power and will start forming their armies. If we don’t gather all these ancient weapons from the past, we may be too late to stop them. Wizards only understand one thing … and that’s power. If we have greater weapons, then they’ll keep their heads down and hide until they have their own ancient weapons.”

  “We must stop that,” Ratlan said.

  “Of course. But while those idiotic villagers are hiding their wizards, and pretending to be peaceful, the skeleton nation, led by our great skeleton warlord, Rakir, will lead the charge. We’ll destroy every last one of them before they even know what’s going on. This time, the Great War will have a different ending, and no villagers will be left alive to tell anyone what happened.”

  The general laughed, then Ratlan smiled and joined in.

  “Soon, the Far Lands will belong to the monsters, and be ruled by skeletons!” Rusak glanced to the west as the moon moved behind the foliage of the jungle and began setting behind the western horizon. He wished for more darkness to hide his trail, but the inevitability of sunrise was something he couldn’t avoid. “I just hope we’ve seen the last of that boy-wizard.”

  The monsters continued trudging through the water, too far away from the War Room to see the villagers leaping off the roof in the darkness and swimming for the shoreline.

  CHAPTER 20

  Watcher moved onto the beach and stared into the terrifying Creeper’s Jungle, his keen eyes trying to pierce the foliage and find the explosive denizens that were likely watching him. Light from the rising sun barely leaked through the blocks of leaves and tree trunks, creating a green background and slowly brightening red backdrop. Under different circumstances, it might have been beautiful, but with what just happened in the obsidian tower, Watcher saw little beauty in the scene.

  Drawing Needle, Watcher took a step closer to the treeline as more villagers moved out of the chilly ocean water, their weapons drawn as well. A rustling sound could be heard in the jungle, as if creatures were moving about behind the tall trees and thick bushes, but the sound grew quieter; the creepers were apparently prepared to wait for a more advantageous time to attack.

  With a sigh of relief, he turned to watch the rest of the villagers step out of the surf. As he swung around, Needle grew bright when it pointed to the south. That’s strange, Watcher thought.

  “I think everyone’s out of the water now.” Cleric glanced at Cutter, then to Watcher. “Which way do we go now?”

  “The skeleton said they were heading for the Hall of Pillars.” Cutter turned to Mapper. “Any idea where that’s located?”

  The old man knelt on the sand, then pulled out the linked ender chest from his inventory. Carefully, he opened the lid and opened one of the books. Paging through the ancient tome, he finally smiled when he found what he sought.

  “This book shows a map of the Far Lands. We’re here, at the War Room. It shows the Hall of Pillars to the southwest.” Mapper took out a compass and looked down at it, they pointed into the jungle. “The skeletons should have gone that way.” He pointed into the jungle, then closed the map, then opened another book. He ruffled through the ancient pages, searching for something, a concerted scowl across his brow.

  “Mapper, what are you doing?” Watcher asked, intrigued.

  The old man wasn’t listening, his concentration was completely focused on the text before him. He flipped through a couple more pages, then stopped and read.

  “Mapper … what are you doing?” A rustling of leaves came from the Creeper’s Jungle. Watcher took a step toward the sound, his sword held at the ready. A bright-yellow ocelot walked out of the thick undergrowth, growled at him, then disappeared back into the jungle.

  “Oh no.” Mapper sounded worried … no, terrified.

  Watcher moved back to the old man.

  “What is it?” Planter asked, kneeling at his side.

  “Look.” Mapper pointed at the book lying within the shadowy interior of the ender chest.

  Planter stared into the chest, her delicate lips mouthing words as she read, then her eyes grew wide with shock. She looked at Mapper and the old man nodded, both seeming terrified of what they had just read.

  “What is it?” Watcher asked, worried.

  Planter looked up at him with her bright-green eyes, fear behind the emerald orbs. “That helmet thing the skeleton took from you … this book describes what it is.”

  “It’s called the Helm of Calling,” Mapper explained, his voice low, as if he were afraid of being overheard. “That skeleton can put it on and call monsters to his side, growing his army.”

  “How many monsters can he gather with this …” Watcher turned to Mapper. “What’s it called?

  “The Helm of Calling.”

  “Right … how many monsters can he gather, a hundred? Two hundred?”

  Mapper took a nervous swallow and cast his gaze around their company, then brought it back to Watcher. “All of them.”

  “What do you mean, all of them?” Now Watcher’s voice was getting softer.

  Mapper closed the book, then carefully closed the lid to the ender chest. “The Helm of Calling can bring all monsters to his side, not just from the Far Lands, but from all of the Overworld, too.”

  “So, you’re saying that skeleton could call just a couple hundred monsters right away?” Blaster asked. “But he could also bring thousands and thousands of monsters to his banner, and all he’d have to do is wait for them to arrive?”

  The old man nodded.

  A strained silence spread across the company, each NPC glancing at the other with expressions of panic and fear on their square faces.

  Watcher thought about that woman he held in his grasp when she disappeared. As the memory filled his mind, he was surprised to notice there had been a look of gratitude on her square face just before she disappeared. And then he realized, right before grabbing her wrist, Watcher had helped her daughter out of the water. The mother had been pushing her daughter to the surface, and Watcher had pulled her out. He’d saved the girl, but at the cost of the woman’s life … and the mother had been grateful, and somehow, Watcher knew she had faith in him.

  Maybe I can help these people, he thought. If in her dying moment, that mother had faith in me, then maybe I could have faith in myself as well. Maybe there’s a way to stop these skeletons.

  “We need to run and hide before the monster horde gets here,” one of the villagers said.

  “Hide underground … we could hide in caves.”

  “No, we could go to the Nether.”

  “Or hide in the deserts.”

  “Or maybe we could—”

  “We can’t hide,” Watcher said, his voice weak. “Running from our problem is not a solution. Problems always have a way of finding you, no matter how much you hide from them. We must face this … everyone is relying on us.”

  “This is impossible,” Blaster said. “That monster could put on that helmet and have an instant army. They already outnumber us, but with that Helm of Calling … we have no chance.”

  “Then why didn’t he use it when he took it from me?” Watcher turned his gaze on the boy, then turned and stared at Cutter. “You fought him, Cutter, as did I. That was a seasoned warrior, used to doing his duty, right?”

  Cutter nodded thoughtfully. “I could tell by the way he moved and spoke, he was a soldier and a leader.”

  “But a soldier first,” Watcher said. “He’s trained to take orders, and I bet he was orde
red to bring these magical relics to the skeleton warlord.”

  He thought about the gratitude in that woman’s eyes again. Was she thanking Watcher for saving her daughter … or for saving everyone? Maybe she knew something about Watcher he didn’t fully realize. He found Cleric in the crowd and moved so he stood directly in front of him.

  “Think about it, Dad, if that skeleton general used the Helm of Calling, he could probably take control of the entire skeleton nation. The warlord would never trust this task to someone who might betray him. That general was trusted to find these relics, then bring them back without using them.”

  “I don’t know, son. You’re making a lot of guesses in your theory … guesses that could get a lot of people hurt if you’re wrong,” Cleric said.

  The image of that woman in the tower appeared in his mind. She was pointing at him again, a thankful expression on her face. But then, dreamlike words came from her mouth and echoed throughout his mind.

  Watcher, you were meant for greatness. The words sounded as if they were coming from a hundred miles away, or maybe from a hundred years ago … he wasn’t sure which. You can do this, as long as you are true and face that which must be faced.

  The skeleton warlord.

  The image of the woman nodded her head. Have faith in yourself and in those around you. Your friends will not abandon you in your hour of need. And then the strange voice disappeared from his mind.

  “Watcher … are you okay?” Planter was shaking him, her face concerned.

  “What?” Watcher glanced around and found everyone looking at him.

  “You just stopped moving and stood there, as if you were paralyzed.” There was worry in Planter’s voice. “Are you okay?”

  Watcher nodded, then turned and glanced at everyone around him. “I know it seems like I’m asking the impossible, but that Helm cannot make it back to the skeleton warlord.” He saw the young girl whose mother had died in Watcher’s grasp and put an arm around her. She wept and buried her face in Watcher’s still-wet smock. “I cannot stand aside and watch that monster destroy everyone that’s important to me. I must catch that skeleton general, no matter the cost. For if I don’t stop him … who will?”

  “But son, this is an impossible task. Those skeletons already outnumber us, even if the general doesn’t use that magical helmet.” Cleric seemed scared for his son. “And besides, we don’t even know where they went. Do you see any footprints in the sand? It’s like they disappeared.”

  “I know it seems impossible, but it’s not.” Watcher glanced at Planter and smiled; her presence gave him courage. “There are two things what will help us to be victorious.”

  “What’s that?” Cutter asked, the big warrior standing close to Planter … a little too close. He looked doubtfully down at Watcher.

  “First, that skeleton general thinks we’re all dead. If he thought we might escape from that drowning trap, then there’d be skeletons here on the shoreline, waiting to finish off the survivors. So, we’ll have the element of surprise on our side.”

  “That’s great, but we don’t even know where they went,” Cutter said.

  Watcher smiled, then drew Needle and held it high over his head. He pointed it toward the ocean, then slowly turned to the north. The villagers backed away and watched the boy, confusion evident on their faces. He continued to turn until the tip of his blade was pointing westward, toward the Creeper’s Jungle. Turning more, he felt the blade vibrate slightly in his grip, as if anticipating something. When it was pointing to the south, the blade lit up with a bright purple glow. The villagers gasped in surprise.

  “Needle and that Helm are connected, somehow,” Watcher said. “I can’t explain it, but this blade will point us in the right direction. So, we have the element of surprise, and we know where they’re going; the skeletons went to the south. They probably walked in the water to hide their footprints.”

  “But what’s to the south?” Planter asked.

  “There’s another ancient structure in that direction,” Mapper said. “But we don’t want to go there.”

  “Why’s that?” the villager asked, moving closer to the old man.

  “It’s in the Bad Lands,” Mapper explained.

  “What are the Bad Lands?” Winger asked.

  “The books I’ve read have many theories, but most agree the land has been broken by great magical powers.” Mapper looked at Watcher, an expression of sympathy on his face. “These lands are covered with lava rivers and poison streams. One of the books suggests there is an ancient castle at the center of the Bad Lands that protects a great weapon. That’s probably what the skeleton general is after.” The old man glanced around at his companions. “In general, it’s a pretty terrible and dangerous place.”

  “Sounds lovely,” Blaster said, then smiled.

  “So, you want to chase after a skeleton that can call hundreds of monsters to his side, and follow him into a biome that has been shattered by magic,” Cutter said.

  Watcher nodded. “I don’t want to go after this monster, but I know I must.”

  The big warrior shook his head and lowered his gaze to the ground. Watcher looked at the rest of the villagers; they were all stepping back, their eyes focused away from Watcher. He stared at Planter. His friend looked back with her bright green eyes, but then shook her head and stared down at her feet. Only one pair of eyes would return his gaze, and they belonged to Er-Lan.

  “I know I can do this … I know I can.” Watcher put a finger under Planter’s chin and gently lifted her head so they were looking eye to eye. “I know I’m terrified when those skeletons are up close and within arm’s reach, but I can’t quit.”

  Just then, the sun rose above the jungle’s treeline, painting the villagers with its warm, yellow glow. The light shone down upon Planter’s blond hair, making it appear as if it were liquid gold spilling down her shoulder. He reached out and took her hand in his.

  “I know this seems impossible, but I know we can do this if we work together.”

  Planter just sighed, then pulled her hand back and lowered her gaze again.

  Watcher was stunned. He was sure she’d be with him, but now he felt totally alone. “I understand. This seems insane, but it must be done, and I’ll do it alone. All of you should hide somewhere, just in case I’m not successful at stopping that skeleton general from reaching his warlord. Maybe you’ll be able to live a full life before the monsters reach your door.”

  Slowly, he backed away from his friend, but bumped into someone standing behind him. Turning, he found Er-Lan standing there, his gaze fixed on Watcher’s.

  “Watcher will not be alone,” Er-Lan said. “A hero doesn’t have to be big and strong, like Cutter. A hero can be the smallest and weakest person, yet do great deeds if people believe in them.” The zombie put an arm around Watcher, his razor-sharp claws sparkling in the morning light. He stared into Watcher’s square face. “Er-Lan believes in Watcher. This zombie will be at his side, no matter how much danger or fear. Family sticks together … no matter what. Watcher taught that to Er-Lan, and it will always be remembered.”

  Watcher’s bright red parrot flew down and landed on his shoulder, followed by another and another. In seconds, a half-dozen birds were perched on Watcher’s shoulders, an equal number on the zombie. Overhead, the flock of brightly colored creatures flew in a circle around the party, their voices squawking the zombie’s words, “Watcher will not be alone … Watcher will not be alone … Watcher will not be alone.”

  Watcher looked up and smiled, then patted the zombie on the back and started walking to the south.

  “Wait,” a voice said.

  Watcher turned. Planter looked up at the birds, then whistled and held out a hand. One of the parrots flew down and landed on the girl’s palm, then scurried along her arm until it stood on her shoulder. She drew the enchanted golden axe, then walked toward her friend.

  “You aren’t going without me,” she said. “Family sticks together.”
/>   Watcher nodded gratefully and choked back a tear.

  Another whistle pierced the air. Cleric stepped forward with a dark-green bird on his shoulder, his eyes filled with hope. “Family,” was all the old man said.

  More whistles cut through the squawking cacophony as villager after villager stepped forward, a bird on every shoulder.

  “Family stays together …”

  “We’re with you, Watcher …”

  “Family is everything …”

  Their words filled Watcher with courage.

  The daughter of the drowned mother then stepped forward, a blue parrot on one shoulder, a yellow on the other. “My mother would want me to help. You didn’t give up on her, so I’m not giving up on you.”

  Finally, tears of gratitude, or hope, or released guilt escaped from Watcher’s eyes.

  Lastly, Cutter gave off the loudest and most shrill whistle of them all. A handful of birds all soared down to him and landed on his shoulders. He turned his head and scowled at the parrots. “I don’t like birds!” He shook his shoulders, trying to dislodge the animals, but they refused to leave. The villagers laughed, only to receive a glare from the warrior. “But I’ll still be at your side, boy. These people believe in you, and I do as well. You brought us together when we were ready to give up. That makes this your army now and you’re in command. Give me an order and I’ll do whatever you say.”

  Watcher glanced at his companions … no, his family, and smiled as small cube-shaped tears tumbled down his cheeks. He was about to say something when a voice from farther down the beach yelled to them.

  “Come on, we have some skeletons to catch!” It was Blaster, wearing multi-colored armor, the chest plate, pants, boots and helmet all from a different color set. He seemed to merge with the many-hued birds that clung to the leather.