The Cult: Part One

by Mark Mulle

Chapter Two

  As Steve woke up, Wendy was already dressed and bathed.

  “You slept an hour late. It’s a good thing I care and will allow you to get some sleep.”

  Steve rubbed his eyes, still feeling groggy. “Sorry, I couldn’t sleep. So I trained and. . . Wait a minute; there’s something I need to tell you.”

  Steve explained to Wendy about the cult that he’d encountered and how they were planning on finding the heroes who were destined to defeat the Ender Dragon. He also brought up Draven’s powers.

  “Well, it looks like we found our lead, but if he’s as strong as you say he is, then we’re in big trouble.”

  Steve nodded. “I’m wondering how in the world we’re going to handle this. I’ve ran a few options through my head, and the only thing I can think of is that we should disguise ourselves. We need to create a robe that looks just like theirs. Powdering our skin would help too.”

  “Powdering our skin?”

  Steve forgot that he didn’t explain this to Wendy. “The cultists all had pale skin and blood red lips. None of them looked like they’ve been in the sun. It’s eerie, to say the least.”

  “We should find everything we need in some of the stores around here. I’ll let the innkeeper know that we’ll be staying a few extra nights.”

  She went downstairs, and Steve wondered if this plan would even work. Did these people have a way of telling imposters from the true members, or did they assume that anyone who donned a cloak was one of them? Once Wendy went back to the room, she sighed.

  “Hopefully, we can get more money soon. I’m milking my wallet for all that it’s worth. Well, let’s buy some cloaks, shall we?”

  The two left the inn and stepped foot into the village. After his long stay in Chance, Glink was a breath of fresh air. It was a sizable village, much more expansive than his hometown, but small enough to navigate it. Steve and Wendy found the clothing store and went inside. Immediately, they were greeted by rows upon rows of clothes. Shirts, tunics, trousers, every type of clothing except for a hood. They went to the counter, and a thin middle-aged woman who had her graying hair tied back greeted them.

  “What can I do for you two?” she asked.

  Wendy spoke. “We’re looking for a black cloak. Do you have any?”

  She shook her head, a slight look of concern in her face. “I’m sorry, but it’s not the season for those to be in stock.”

  Steve assumed that Wendy would give up, but instead she asked, “Do you have any black, white, and purple fabric, as well as materials to sew with?”

  “That I do,” the lady replied as she entered the room behind them. Meanwhile, Wendy grabbed two black tunics from the shelves as they waited, and when she returned, Wendy paid for everything. Once the two left, Steve looked behind him, wondering why the shopkeeper seemed a tad worried.

  They arrived back at the inn, and Wendy spoke. “Yes, I can sew to save my life. My father’s side of the family created the weapons shop in Chance, but my mother’s side ran a clothing business. Her business was pulled under shortly after she married my father, but she taught me how to sew and how to create my own style of clothing. I haven’t done it in a while, but it’s like anything in that it comes back to you once you do it again.”

  Steve watched Wendy as she began to work her magic, and Steve instructed her on what the hoods looked like, telling her to cut a hole there and to sew there. Wendy soon knew what she was doing, however, and began sewing frantically, much to Steve’s surprise. This woman was full of surprises. She sewed the black fabric onto the tunic to create a hood and then sewed some fabric on the bottom to make it longer. She cut out two holes on top of the hood and sewed the purple fabric to create eyes, meticulously cutting the purple fabric into two circles. Then she cut the white fabric into evenly-sized triangles and sewed them around the hood. In no time at all, she had created two hoodies that resembled the cultists’ hoods to a T.

  “It’s a little crude, but I think it’ll work,” she told Steve.

  “Crude? This looks great! You’re a natural,” Steve replied, and Wendy warmly smiled at him. He tried the larger black hood on. It fit him perfectly—tight enough to securely stay around him but loose enough to give him that “ominous cultist” feel. Wendy tried her outfit on as well, admiring how it fit over her too.

  “Now what?” Steve asked.

  “We’ll save the makeup for tomorrow. Right now, we should just have fun. It’ll be two nights from now, so let’s just relax.”

  Steve agreed, and the two walked around the village. Despite Steve trying to have fun, he had a difficult time doing so. They tried to fish at a pond outside of the village, renting some fishing supplies from a local store, but Steve couldn’t find the drive to fish. He easily could find it back when he had fished with Jonish, which was immediately after the showdown with Herobrine, but he assumed that the weight of what had happened had not hit him at that point. Steve smiled as he cast his rod, but inside he didn’t feel like catching anything. When his lure sunk, he lightly tugged, not giving the pole enough power for the hook to secure the fish. Meanwhile, Wendy caught a medium-sized birdfish, claiming that this was the first time in ages that she had actually fished.

  The next day, the two went to a beauty store, which was located next to the clothing shop. Once they entered, the aroma of various perfumes permeated the air. Even Wendy coughed slightly. The woman at the counter, a regal-looking lady covered in diamonds and coated in makeup, asked what they needed. Wendy requested the best powder and lipstick that they had, and she reached under the counter and pulled out a case of powder and a tube of lipstick.

  “The powder is made from Creeper ash, and the lipstick is made from redstone. It’s the finest stuff around here.”

  Wendy paid for it, and the two left. They once again tried to have fun, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to do it. Meanwhile, they kept noticing signs popping up. They were located outside of stores, at the fountain in the square, and all around. Each advertised one thing.

  “HARVEST DANCE TONIGHT!”

  An old lady stood in front of one of them, and she turned around to face the two. “I can tell that you two are outsiders. The Harvest Dance is what you think it is. A dance for a good harvest and for having fun. You should go to it; I met my first love at the harvest dance sixty years ago!” she began to chortle as he left, and the two looked at each other.

  “Why not?” Wendy asked. Steve nodded as well. As they continued on, they found a shop set up close to the square, saying that customers could rent dresses and suits for cheap. The man running the stand, a classy-looking mustachioed fellow, only had two articles of clothing left, a red dress and a suit. Steve paid for the outfits this time, and the two went back to the inn, waiting for the sun to set.

  When it became dark, Wendy went to the restroom to dress while Steve put on his outfit. He went from a shaggy-haired boy who wore a tattered green shirt to someone who looked much classier. His black dress pants complemented his dark suit, and it even came with a bow tie that he finally managed to put on. He looked quite dapper, and he looked even more so after he combed his hair a bit. As he did that, Wendy walked out. When Steve saw her, his cheeks reddened slightly.

  Steve thought that Wendy was pretty but didn’t see her as someone who blew him away. However, this Wendy looked absolutely stunning. She tied her long red hair back, cleaning it until it radiated like the sun. The dress on her fit perfectly and blended in with said hair, and it contrasted well with her light skin. She had used some of the makeup, applying a dab of white powder on her face and a bit of lipstick on her lips.

  “You look great,” Steve replied, knowing that his compliment was a complete understatement.

  She smiled. “Thanks. You don’t look bad yourself. Now then, let’s do some dancing.”

  At the town square, the festivities had already begun. A small group of traveling musicians played their drums, ukuleles, and pipes joyously, bringing out the da
nce in everyone. Merchants saw this as an ample time to sell their best wares, and the scammers were out on the prowl. Steve was stopped at least twice by two merchants who claimed to have a cure-all potion made from swamp grass that could make him live to be two-hundred. Steve refused, and the two went to the center.

  As they did, the music changed from festive to a slow ballad, and Wendy extended her hand to Steve. “Come on; let’s dance,” she encouraged, and Steve grabbed her hand. He did not have a clue what he was doing, and seeing the other dancers broke his confidence. The others waltzed with their partners perfectly, while Steve awkwardly spun Wendy around, failing to grab her hand. Wendy was a little better with the slow dancing, but her movements were slightly stiff as well. However, she was smiling.

  “It’s not a competition; it’s just a night to have fun!” she told him. Steve smiled, feeling slightly embarrassed, but he knew that she had a point. He tried to ignore the people around them and make it their night to have fun. He hadn’t had a night where he could be himself in so long, and this was a refreshing break from that. As Steve danced with Wendy, he could feel his troubles melting away. For one night, he could forget about the stresses that faced him and the dread of having to disguise themselves to infiltrate the cult.

  When the music stopped and the dancers began to go home, Steve and Wendy were still dancing until the two were aware that the dance had ended. The two went back to the inn and began to formulate their plan for tomorrow night.

  “We should bring our weapons in case things go sour,” Wendy suggested. Steve agreed, but added something to that.

  “I’m a little worried. We have the strongest weapons, but this guy has power. He could blow them away with just a wave of his hand. I’d prefer for us to be careful and not have to worry about that.”

  Wendy agreed, and the two fell asleep shortly after. When they woke up, they spent their hours biding their time, knowing that it would be later in the night until the cult would meet again. An hour before their assumed time, they began to put on the outfit. Steve watched as Wendy coated her face with excessive powder and painted her lips until they were as red as blood. Once she put the hood on, she went to Steve, carrying the makeup in her hand.

  “Oh, dear,” Steve said as she powdered him down, with Steve trying to suppress a sneeze. Once that was taken care of, she covered his lips with lipstick, and then when that was done, he put up his hood. The two looked in the mirror, and both looked identical and genderless. Steve could barely breathe under the excessive makeup, and he couldn’t wait until this was all over.