Potion of the Turtle Master

by Maggie Marks

  This book is not authorized or sponsored by Microsoft Corp., Mojang AB, Notch Development AB, or Scholastic Inc., or any other person or entity owning or controlling rights in the Minecraft name, trademark, or copyrights.

  AQUATIC ADVENTURES IN THE OVERWORLD: POTION OF THE TURTLE MASTER.

  Copyright © 2020 by Hollan Publishing, Inc.

  Minecraft® is a registered trademark of Notch Development AB.

  The Minecraft game is copyright © Mojang AB.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews or articles. All inquiries should be addressed to Sky Pony Press, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018.

  Sky Pony Press books may be purchased in bulk at special discounts for sales promotion, corporate gifts, fund-raising, or educational purposes. Special editions can also be created to specifications. For details, contact the Special Sales Department, Sky Pony Press, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018 or info@skyhorsepublishing.com.

  Sky Pony® is a registered trademark of Skyhorse Publishing, Inc.®, a Delaware corporation.

  Visit our website at www.skyponypress.com.

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.

  Special thanks to Erin L. Falligant.

  Cover illustration by Amanda Brack

  Cover design by Brian Peterson

  Paperback ISBN: 978-1-5107-5326-6

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-5107-5327-3

  Printed in the United States of America

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 1

  Mason swam past the crumbling sandstone, pausing only for a moment to glance up at the castle-like ruin stretching toward the water’s surface. Then, with a swift kick, he followed Luna and Asher beneath a stone arch.

  He rounded a pillar and darted through the window of a roofless hut, shooting back out the window on the other side. Mason could swim this path with his eyes shut. Over the colorful coral, through the ruins of the underwater village, toward the bubble column that led up to the brilliant blue sky above.

  Except today, they wouldn’t go all the way up. Today, they were stopping in a remote sea cave on the edge of the village. Ms. Beacon lived in that cave, and she had ingredients Luna needed to brew her potions of water breathing, night vision, and swiftness.

  Mason felt a rush of nervousness—or was it excitement? Ms. Beacon was the only other person living in the village, and the only adult for miles around. But she was so mysterious! Will she finally speak to me today? he wondered. The way she does with Luna?

  When a shadow darkened the water overhead, he flinched, his hand darting for his trident. He’d lived underwater long enough now to know that a drowned, a zombie-like mob that lived on the ocean’s floor, could appear at any moment.

  But it was only a sea turtle, charting its path through the water toward some unknown destination. Mason blew out a breath of relief. Then he remembered what Luna had told him about the turtles.

  “It’s egg-laying season,” she’d said. “Turtles are swimming back to the beaches where they first hatched—back to their homes—to lay their eggs.”

  Home, Mason thought. Where’s my home?

  He glanced over his shoulder, toward the conduit that lit up the ocean floor. His underwater house was back there somewhere, carved out of a dirt mound and surrounded with blue glass to blend in with the sea. But he and Asher had just built that house recently. It wasn’t their first home.

  Mason was starting to forget the home he had come from—before his parents were killed in a mining accident and he and Asher had gone to live with Uncle Bart. Before they’d sailed through the rough waters that had taken Uncle Bart’s life, too. Before they had met Luna and joined her in this underwater village.

  Mason’s first home had been made of brick and surrounded by enormous yellow flowers. What were they called?

  Sunflowers, he suddenly remembered. The rare yellow flowers were nearly as tall as his father. Mason remembered running through a field of stems as they waved in the breeze, the way stalks of kelp now waved in the water around him.

  Then something else was waving in front of him—Luna’s hand. She cocked her head as if to say, Where were you just now? Snap out of it! We have work to do.

  He blinked his eyes beneath his helmet and grinned. Then he followed her into the dark, winding cavern ahead.

  Ms. Beacon’s home was as hidden and mysterious as the old woman herself. Twists and turns led to a door leading to a smaller inner cave. When Mason swam through the doorway and closed the door behind him, a sea sponge soaked up the water at his feet.

  Instantly, he felt a blast of warmth. At the far end of the room, a thin stream of lava ran down the cave wall. Redheaded Asher stood beside it, warming himself by the bubbling orange pool. Just a few feet away, Ms. Beacon leaned over her brewing stand, her long gray hair flowing down the back of her white robes.

  From the back, she looked like a grandmother. Mason imagined her turning around with a warm smile, maybe even wrapping him up in a hug. But when she finally turned, she barely nodded a hello. Her features were sharp, her face lined and weathered like the boards of an old ship. Mason took a step backward and quickly looked away.

  The walls of Ms. Beacon’s cave were lined with potion ingredients. He studied the glass jars, which were labeled with spidery handwriting:

  Slimeballs

  Pufferfish

  Ghast tears

  Rabbit’s feet

  Gunpowder

  Blaze powder

  Dried mushrooms

  Dragon’s breath

  Fermented spider eyes

  He stared for a moment at the eyeballs, until he realized they were staring right back. Ew.

  Luna poured a bit of gunpowder into her sack. Then she pointed at a nearby jar. “Dragon’s breath,” she murmured. “You know what Ms. Beacon had to do to get that, don’t you?”

  “Fight a dragon?” Mason joked.

  Luna didn’t laugh. Instead, she nodded solemnly. “That’s right,” she said. “Ms. Beacon fought the Ender dragon.”

  “No way.” Mason glanced again at Ms. Beacon. She looked so frail, her hands and forearms withered with age. But Mason knew better. She’s tougher than she looks, he reminded himself.

  “Ms. Beacon went to the Nether, too,” Luna said. “See the Nether wart growing?” She pointed toward an indoor garden built along one wall of the cave. Nether wart plants dotted the gray-brown dirt like little red mushrooms.

  Asher overheard. “That’s Nether wart?” he asked, darting toward the garden.

  “Asher, wait!” Luna cried.

  But Asher was already squatting low in the dirt, stroking the leaves of a tiny red plant. “What?” he asked.

  “That’s soul sand,” Luna said, smothering a smile.

  Soul sand? Mason took another look at the dirt. If Asher was squatting in soul sand from the Nether, he was probably . . . stuck.

  Sure enough, Asher couldn’t yank his feet from the garden. He tugged his legs, one at a time, and finally fell back into the dirt with a sigh.

  “You have to move slowly,” said Luna. “I know that�
�s hard for you.”

  Mason laughed out loud. His little brother ran headfirst into any adventure. Just like Uncle Bart used to, Mason thought with a sad smile.

  “C’mon,” said Luna, holding out a hand to help Asher from the garden.

  He moved in slow motion, inch by inch, until he had finally broken free. Then he shook his whole body and wiped his freckled face, trying to get rid of any soul sand that remained.

  Ms. Beacon barely seemed to notice as she added two more ingredients to her bubbling potion: a hunk of dried Nether wart and a small turtle shell. Mason watched closely as the potion hissed and fizzed. Was it turning purple?

  “Hey!” said Luna, as she stepped closer. “Is that potion of the turtle master?”

  Ms. Beacon nodded, her gray eyes sparkling. She bottled a bit of the potion and handed it to Luna.

  “Potion of the turtle master?” Mason asked. “What does it do?”

  Luna held the lavender liquid up to the light of the lava stream. “It slows you down, for one thing,” she said, casting a knowing look at Asher.

  He scrunched up his face. “Why would you want that?”

  Luna laughed. “To keep you from running headlong into a patch of soul sand.”

  Asher backed away, as if she were going to make him take a swig.

  But questions swirled through Mason’s mind. “Why would you want a potion that slows you down?” he asked.

  Luna shook the bottle gently. “It also makes you stronger,” she said. “It gives you an invisible shield if you’re fighting hostile mobs. Drinking this potion is like . . .” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “It’s like having a turtle shell on your back for protection.”

  Mason imagined wearing a turtle shell during a fight with the drowned. Or with guardians, the fish-like mobs that lived inside ocean monuments. Having an invisible shield might come in handy, he decided.

  Asher chewed his lip. “But if the potion slows you down, you couldn’t fight,” he said. “All the hostile mobs would get away!”

  Mason looked at Ms. Beacon, wondering if she were listening. Would she think Asher was brave for wanting to fight? She’d fought her share of hostile mobs.

  But we have, too, Mason reminded himself. He suddenly wanted Ms. Beacon to know that. “Asher’s right,” he said, puffing out his chest. “With potion of the turtle master, we wouldn’t be able to fight!” He spoke to Luna, but he hoped Ms. Beacon would hear.

  She did. Ms. Beacon looked up from her potion with a look so sharp and pointed, Mason shrank backward. Had he said something wrong?

  After an awkward silence, Luna cleared her throat. “We can see that you’re busy here, Ms. Beacon. We’ll just take our potion ingredients and go. But could we bring you some pufferfish? I noticed you’re getting low.” She pointed toward the half-empty jar of dried pufferfish on the shelf.

  Ms. Beacon hesitated, then nodded.

  Asher sprang to life. “I’ll help!” he said. “I’ll get my enchanted fishing rod.”

  But as he took off toward the entrance to the cave, he tripped over a bucket. Fiery orange ashes poured from the bucket across the sandstone floor, straight toward a stack of potion-brewing books.

  As Mason watched, one of the books began to smoke. Then flicker. Then flame.

  The word caught in his throat before bursting free. “Fire!”

  CHAPTER 2

  Asher stomped on the book, trying to put out the flames. But it was too late. A trickle of fire ran up the wall, igniting a wooden shelf. The glass jars above began to blacken, as if the glass were melting.

  Mason’s eyes zeroed in on the label of one of the jars: Gunpowder. If that gunpowder caught fire . . . He shook his head. He didn’t even want to imagine the possibility. “What do we do?” he cried to Luna.

  “Potion of fire resistance!” Luna said, scanning another shelf filled with potions. “Where is it?”

  She turned toward Ms. Beacon for help, but the old woman was hurrying toward the fire instead of away from it. She pushed Asher out of the way and grabbed the overturned bucket near his feet. Then she raced toward the cauldron, quick as lightning.

  “Water!” Luna cried. “She’s getting water. We need to help!”

  Mason grabbed the first thing he could find—the glass jar filled with spider eyes. He unscrewed the lid and dumped the eyeballs on the ground, shuddering with disgust. Then he hurried toward the cauldron.

  The water inside was surprisingly cool. He dunked the jar, filling it to the brim, and followed Luna and Ms. Beacon back toward the blazing shelf. As they tossed water on the flames, they fizzled and hissed.

  Again and again, Mason filled the jar. But where was Asher?

  He spotted his brother kneeling beside the Nether wart garden, perhaps trying to guard it from the flames. Or maybe he was stuck in the soul sand again. Mason opened his mouth to ask, just as an enormous explosion rocked the cave.

  BOOM!!!

  He hit the ground hard, letting go of the glass jar. He heard the glass shatter and then nothing—nothing but a loud ringing in his ears.

  “Asher!” he called. He could barely hear his own voice.

  The cave had filled with smoke now, and the smell of gunpowder hung heavy in the air.

  Mason coughed and wiped his eyes, trying to see through the haze. Luna was standing by the shelf of potions, hurriedly packing them into her sack. Another figure was running toward the door, her white robes flowing behind her. As the door flung open, a wave of water poured in. Ms. Beacon was flooding the cave!

  Mason braced himself for the impact of the water. When it came, he wobbled but didn’t fall. He wiggled his arms and legs, making sure nothing was broken. Then he swam, searching for Asher and Luna.

  Mason found his brother flattened against the cave wall, just above the Nether wart garden. Asher’s eyes were wide. He pointed toward his feet, where tiny red plants swayed in the current of the water. The Nether wart had survived.

  But will we? Mason wondered. We need to get out of here. We need to get back to the conduit where we can breathe!

  He grabbed Asher’s hand and led him out of the cave. When he felt Luna swimming beside them, Mason blew out a breath of relief, the bubbles rising upward. But they still had a long way to go to get to the conduit.

  He followed Luna through the twists and turns of the larger cave. Finally, they popped out into the open sea. Mason knew exactly where to go from here—the bright light of the conduit led the way back home.

  Hurry! he urged his brother, waving him forward. Mason’s lungs were burning now. But if they could just get closer to the conduit, they would be okay.

  Then he felt a tug on his shirt. Someone was holding him back—or something. As he whirled around, his fingers tightened on the trident strapped to his side. The last thing they needed right now was to fight a drowned. We won’t win! he realized, his heart racing.

  But it was Luna behind him. She held his shirt with one hand and a potion bottle with the other. Mason recognized the golden-yellow liquid—potion of water breathing. But instead of taking a swig, he pushed the bottle toward Asher.

  After his little brother had taken a drink, Mason forced himself to swallow the fishy-tasting potion—and to savor it. Because now that Ms. Beacon’s potion-brewing ingredients had been destroyed by fire, it would be hard for Luna to make more.

  Ms. Beacon. Mason suddenly realized he hadn’t seen her—not since she had flooded the cave to save them all. Where was she?

  He started to swim back into the cave, and then he spotted her. She’d made it to safety, but instead of looking out at the open sea, she was looking back down the tunnel of the cave. Back toward her home, which was now destroyed.

  When she turned slowly, Mason caught the sadness on her face. She reminded him of Asher in the days after they had lost Uncle Bart, when they thought they’d lost everything. But when Ms. Beacon saw Mason, her expression shifted. Her eyes narrowed and then caught fire.

  She flicked her wrist at him as if
to say, Go on. Get out of here. And don’t come back!

  As she darted away, back down the tunnel toward the remains of her home, Mason’s stomach lurched.

  He and Asher had finally gotten to spend time with Ms. Beacon—to see her magical potion-brewing cave. But instead of impressing her or getting to know her better, they had ruined everything!

  We have to help her! Mason realized. But how can we? How will she ever trust us again?

  CHAPTER 3

  “More turtles,” Asher said, tapping the glass with his fingertips. “Where are they all going?”

  Mason gazed at the stream of turtles swimming past the window of the living room. “They’re going back home to lay eggs,” he said. “Luna told us about that, remember?”

  He flashed on a memory of the first day he had met Luna. She was squatting on the beach beside Uncle Bart’s wrecked ship, guiding baby turtles from their cracked eggshells toward the sea. Were any of these turtles swimming back to that beach today?

  Mason suddenly felt the urge to follow them—away from the trouble he and Asher had just caused for Ms. Beacon. Will she ever forgive us? he wondered for the umpteenth time.

  Asher sighed. “So there’ll be even more turtles after those eggs hatch?”

  “I guess so.” Mason stared at the last green turtle until its webbed legs propelled it from view. “What’s wrong with more turtles?”

  Asher shrugged. “For one thing, they can’t lead you to treasure like dolphins can.”

  Mason couldn’t help smiling. His brother was all about finding buried treasure, and the pod of dolphins that lived nearby had led him to it once. Mason scanned the clear blue water outside the glass. Would the dolphins be back someday?

  Then a more pressing thought pushed that one away. Is Luna ever coming back? She had gone to Ms. Beacon’s cave to try to help the old woman, but that seemed like hours ago.

  Mason’s stomach twisted, remembering how angry Ms. Beacon had been. He began to pace, wondering how he could make things right. Then a flash of red—a red T-shirt, to be exact—caught his eye outside the window.

  Luna was rounding the bright light of the conduit, her dark ponytail waving in the ocean’s current. Mason saw a swirl of white behind her. Ms. Beacon was coming, too!