The Obsidian Cube, Book 1: An Unknown Past

by Mark Mulle

or less what tried to blow me up. Now let’s tackle the question of where we are, how we got here, and who we are.”

  “I told you,” she said. “I’m Alex. You’re Steve. As for where, we’re on the edge of a forest bordering a meadow near a village. There’re some mountains that way – “ she pointed “ – but that’s Draugr territory, so don’t go there. He’s got a real stronghold up in those hills.”

  Steve looked out one of the windows and saw the dim outline of cliffs in the distance.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Those answers were not really as helpful as you might think.”

  Alex sighed.

  “Okay, let me guess; you woke up knowing nothing about yourself, except your name, in a place you don’t recognize, completely alone, and with nothing in your inventory, right?”

  “Good guess.”

  “Yep, same here,” she said. “About…I don’t know; maybe six months ago? Maybe more? I don’t know; lost track.”

  Steve glanced around the ‘stronghold.’

  “Don’t give me that look,” she snapped. “In the first place, I haven’t been here in the village for that long, and ever since I came here, I’ve been busy, okay? Someone’s gotta keep the villagers safe, and they’re the ones that saved me; gave me food, taught me how to craft tools and build…I owe them everything. Anyway, it’s not like you could do any better.”

  “Never said I could,” he said. “But…do you have any idea how we came here?”

  “None,” she admitted. “Actually, I try not to think about it too much. I don’t see that it really matters. We’re here now; might as well make the best of it, right?”

  Steve stared at her.

  “You’re seriously not curious?”

  “Oh, I’m curious alright,” she said. “I’m just the sort of girl who likes to live in the moment, you see; I try not to let the big questions bother me.”

  “Big questions like ‘who are we’ and ‘how did we get here’?”

  “I know who I am,” she said. “And as for how I got here…”

  She shrugged.

  “Not as important as the fact that I am here.”

  Steve considered her thoughtfully.

  “You’re not going to be much help in this regard, are you?”

  “You’re kind of demanding for someone who just got saved twice by a girl,” she snapped.

  “You said it, not me.”

  Alex opened her mouth to respond, thought better of it, and shut it again. Steve decided to change the subject before she could come up with a cutting retort.

  “So what about Draugr?”

  “Evil of a slime,” she said simply. “Calls himself ‘The Skeleton King.’ He’s the reason I’ve been so busy. He’s the chief of all the Mobs around these parts, and he likes siccing them on the village.”

  “Mobs?”

  “It’s what I call them, seeing as how there are so darn many of them about. The skeletons and zombies and stuff.”

  “What’s his interest in the village?”

  She shrugged.

  “I don’t think he really has any; it’s just a chance for them to blow off steam, or because they think it’s fun or something.”

  “So, what does he want?”

  “That,” she said, tapping the crafting table thoughtfully, “is a very good question. I think he wants something that’s around here, but hanged if I can tell what. Besides, he’s so powerful in his own right, you’d think if there was something just lying in a cave somewhere, he’d just march in and take it. There’s something here that he wants, but it’s like he can’t get at it somehow.”

  She shook her head.

  “At least, that’s what it seems like. It’s not like I ever asked him about it, but...that’s the impression I get from things he’s done or said.

  “But anyway, the point is that I’ve been doing what I can to protect the villagers, since they can’t really do anything for themselves. They can’t fight worth dirt. Speaking of which, I’ve got to go make a new sword, since this one’s almost gone. And I need more arrows; that’s going to be tricky…I’ve got plenty of wood and feathers, but I’m kind of running low on flint…”

  “Uh, what about me?” Steve asked.

  “Hmm?” Alex said, jerking out of browsing her inventory. “Oh, I don’t care. Do whatever you like! Go build something or something. Just be sure to be back in the village before nightfall; I’d hate to have gone through all that trouble saving you for nothing.”

  Steve didn’t have to ask what happened at night; he still had bruises to remind him.

  “Oh, and whatever you do, stay out of the caves; they’re pitch black and the Mobs like to hang out in them.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Good. I think that’s it…oh. Except, I suppose I should introduce you to Remin.”

  “Who?”

  “He’s the village elder,” she explained. “Don’t worry; you’ll like him. Probably.”

  By this time, the villagers had ventured forth from the shelter of their homes to tend to their daily tasks, and they paused to wave and call greetings to Steve and Alex as they passed. The villagers themselves turned out to be a bit of a shock; Steve had expected people who looked more or less like him and Alex, but these people had very high-browed heads and odd hooked noses that stuck out from their faces like a handle, and they all dressed in long flowing robes of different colors, depending on their position in the village. Remin – who dressed in purple – seemed friendly enough, though he spoke in a kind of nasally mumble that was tricky to understand.

  “Hmm, we are most happy to, hmm, welcome you,” he said. “Hmm, so good to have hmm, more help for, hmm dear Alex.”

  “Uh, thank you sir,” Steve answered. He briefly considered asking Remin whether he knew anything about where he or Alex had come from, then decided it wasn’t worth the effort of trying to understand his answer.

  “Hmm, you may consider the village hmm, your home. We share our, hmm crops with hmm all comers. Please hmm, help yourself if you are hungry.”

  “Thanks, that’s very generous of you,” said Steve. “But actually, first of all…I don’t suppose you have any tools, do you?”

  It turned out that they did; a couple of old stone pickaxes that were more than half worn down. Steve took one look at them and decided he would have to learn to make his own tools.

  And so began Steve’s time in the village. For a few nights there were no full-scale attacks, which gave him a chance to get acquainted with his new life…which, for all he knew, was his only life, since he didn’t remember any other. He learned (somewhat to his embarrassment) that acquiring wood to make his own crafting table and tools was as easy as carving out blocks of dirt; only a matter of persistence. He made himself a crude wooden structure much like Alex’s, but on the opposite side of the village from hers. She might have saved his life, but he still wasn’t sure how much he actually liked her.

  The village was surrounded on three sides by the huge forest that Steve had wandered through during his first day in this world. The fourth side was an open field, in which they kept their cows and chickens and sheep. The field was divided by a broad river maybe two hundred blocks from the edge of the village. Beyond the river, the field continued until it reached the feet of the mountains that stood hazy in the distance.

  Alex and Remin both warned Steve not to cross the river. Draugr held his fortress in those hills, and it would be a very stupid move to get too close. After what he had seen of the Skeleton King during the battle, Steve had no desire to encounter him again if he could help it.

  The villagers themselves, he found, were surprisingly pleasant company. They were a simple people, with no real information to give him about either the world or his own origins, but they were a kind, honest bunch; hardworking and grateful for what little they had. The children in particular seemed to take to both him and Alex, and whenever they went into the village, they had at least five or six tiny li
ttle figures scurrying about in their wake.

  Two days after he arrived, once his house was built, Steve went off to gather some more blocks of wood. He had the vague idea that he ought to put in a fence to keep the chickens from wandering off.

  A short distance from his house, there was a short, but steep hill covered in oaks. As he set to work with his ax, he noticed that some of the stone blocks on the hill’s face were coal blocks.

  There was some coal stored at the village, of course, though not much. Steve had borrowed a little to make a stack of torches to keep his house lit (Alex had warned him that if he didn’t keep it well lighted, the Mobs would sneak in while he was gone). Mostly, though, they used charcoal, which required them to burn blocks of wood that could have been used elsewhere. The prospect of increasing their coal supply, therefore, was very appealing.

  Steve took out his pick and began carving his way into the vein of coal. There was quite a bit of it, and he found himself boring deeper and deeper. Suddenly, he cut through a block to find an open space.

  Steve gazed down into the void. Alex had warned him not to go into the caves. Nevertheless, he found himself burning with curiosity and a sense of adventure; what, he wondered, was down there? More coal, perhaps? Perhaps more?

  After considering it for a moment, he stuck a torch onto the wall of the cave to at least get a sense of its structure. He found that it wasn’t very big at all; only about six or seven blocks high at this point. There were no Mobs in sight.

  Another moment of indecision, then he checked his sword, took out his stack