Confronting the Dragon

by Mark Cheverton

  “Iron blocks,” Gameknight said as they passed through the narrow opening, the confines forcing them to ride single file. “Why would someone form these walls, and what looks like mountains ahead, out of iron blocks?”

  As they passed through the tight passage, Gameknight could see the white mountain more clearly in the distance, its surface also shiny and smooth; more iron blocks. The gravel path quickly spilled them into an area that looked like an arena, with steep vertical walls surrounding a flat basin. The area must have been at least fifty blocks across from wall to wall, with a few gentle hills dotting the area. As with the area around the foot of the bridge, there were no blades of grass adorning the arena as would be expected in a rolling hills biome, nor a dusting of flowers. In fact, the landscape was almost completely barren. The only plant life visible in the arena-like area was the presence of vines growing down the sheer walls, their long green fingers stretching down across iron blocks.

  At the center of the arena, they could see a hill maybe eight blocks high. The top of the hill was capped with a shimmering white glow, as if a bright white torch sat atop the peak.

  “That must be the Rose,” Crafter said, pointing to the hill. “Come on.”

  He was about to urge his horse forward when Mason reached out and grabbed his arm.

  “Wait,” Mason said as he turned his head to look back along their path. “The rest of you come here,” he yelled.

  A clattering of hooves filled the air as the rest of the warriors galloped to join them, the sound echoing off the iron walls.

  “The rose stands on that hill,” Mason said. “We’re going to move cautiously and slowly towards it. Everyone dismount and draw your weapons.”

  The soldiers climbed down off their mounts quickly, drawing their swords to be ready for whatever was going to happen; yet nothing did. The arena stayed eerily quiet. No sound could be heard, not even the sound of the wind . . . nothing.

  “Herder, you are to stay behind and hold on to the horses,” Mason said. “The rest of you follow me.”

  Herder dismounted and took the leads from the other warriors. He had a look of disappointment on his face, but knew that he was the best person to do this job.

  Mason stepped forward, still following the gravel trail, but it quickly ended, the speckled brown path disappearing at the edge of the arena, the ground ahead all iron. Glancing at the ground, Mason took a hesitant step off the pathway and onto the iron floor. Instantly, things began to rumble and shake. It looked to Gameknight as if the walls were coming alive as the vine-covered blocks started to move. Shapes began to emerge from the walls, bodies with short stout legs, broad shoulders, and long arms. Faces could be seen on the large heads as dark eyes opened and turned towards the intruders, thick unibrows creased with anger.

  “Iron golems,” Gameknight said as he gripped his sword tighter, fear rippling though him.

  “Our village used to have one of these,” one of the warriors said as he stepped forward.

  Putting away his sword, he walked towards the closest of the metal giants.

  “There’s nothing to fear,” he said. “Golems are friendly to NPCs. They used to protect our village from the mobs. They are our friends, watch.”

  The soldier walked straight up to the golem. There was no look of fear on the soldier’s face, in fact he looked quite excited, as if he were about to be reunited with an old friend. But when he was within ten paces from the giant, a grumbling started to come from the metal goliath, a sound like the grinding of gears within an echo chamber. As it neared, the angry grating sound grew louder and louder.

  The warrior stopped and held out his arms, as if expecting some kind of gift, waiting for the creature to take its final steps to him. When it reached the soldier, the iron golem threw up its arms in a quick motion, striking the warrior and throwing him up into the air. Gameknight could see the soldier flash bright red as he flew through the air. He landed on the ground with a thud, flashing red again, then disappeared, dead.

  “What happened?” one of the soldiers cried.

  “He’s dead, the golem killed Carver . . .” said another.

  “What are we going to do . . .”

  “Let’s get out of here . . .”

  As they stood there looking at the pile of possessions float on the ground that used to belong to the dead warrior, more of the metal giants emerged from the walls. They lumbered slowly towards their party, the sound of grinding, creaking metal filling the air, their angry eyes focused on the NPCs . . . and Gameknight999.

  CHAPTER 17

  BATTLE WITH IRON

  As the ground shook, more of the metal giants emerged from the walls, all of them heading straight for the NPCs. Their dark eyes seemed to glow somehow with hatred for these invaders, their unibrows creased with venomous rage.

  “Here’s the plan,” Mason said quickly. “We charge in, grab the Rose, and then charge out. The User-that-is-not-a-user will lead us.”

  The warriors all retrieved their horses from Herder and mounted . . . all but Gameknight, the User-that-is-not-a-user lost in thought.

  “Ready . . .” Mason boomed.

  This plan is suicide, Gameknight thought. Can I do this? I’m not sure if I’m smart enough. I’m certainly not strong enough to stand up to one of those golems. What if I can’t do it? What if I fail?

  “. . . set,” Mason continued.

  And suddenly the pieces of the puzzle fell into place and the solution burst into his mind . . . a farm.

  “I know what to do, I know what to do!” Gameknight suddenly exclaimed. “Everyone get off the iron blocks, quick.”

  The golems were getting closer.

  Turning their horses the warriors all moved out of the arena and back to the gravel path. As soon as the last soldier moved off the iron blocks, the iron golems stopped their plodding advance and turned around. Lumbering back to the sheer walls that surrounded the arena, they sank back into their outlined recessions, their bodies melting into the metallic walls. This made the warriors pause, many of them cheering at the disappearance of the massive creatures. They lowered their weapons and looked towards the User-that-is-not-a-user.

  “You see, one time I made a golem farm, to harvest their iron, and I . . .”

  “You made what?” Crafter asked as he sheathed his sword.

  “A golem farm to harvest their iron. You see . . .”

  “You mean you killed . . . killed them for their iron?” Herder asked.

  “Well . . . that was back when I used to be a . . . I mean I was only . . .” Gameknight paused as he hung his head in shame. “Yes, I killed them for their iron back in my griefing days, but I know how to stop them without having to fight them. I know how to get them out of the way without having to kill them . . . I know how to get the Iron Rose.”

  Nervous eyes glanced at the green vines that decorated the iron walls, each set of vines representing a golem ready to emerge and protect their prize, and there were lot of vines all around the arena. The warriors then brought their gazes back to Gameknight999.

  “Then tell us what you need,” Mason said quickly as he too sheathed his sword. Motioning to the rest of the soldiers, they too put away their weapons.

  “All we need is water, lots of it,” Gameknight999 explained. “Did anyone bring any buckets?”

  A handful of soldiers stepped forward with buckets in their hands.

  “Good. Go get water from the ocean at the foot of the bridge, as much as you can carry,” Gameknight commanded. “The rest of you, draw your picks, we have digging to do. There is no room for error, for we’ve seen what happens when you try to stand your ground against these monsters.”

  “Not monsters,” Herder interjected.

  “Yes, yes, not monsters,” Gameknight agreed, “but deadly nonetheless. Now gather around so that I can explain what must be done . . .”

  Gameknight explained his plan to the warriors, their blocky heads nodding as they listened. After he had finished, the User-
that-is-not-a-user looked each soldier in the eyes and made sure everyone knew their task. When all were ready, they gathered at the edge of the gravel path, none of them stepping onto the iron floor of the arena . . . not yet.

  “Is everyone ready?” Gameknight asked.

  The warriors all nodded, a look of fear and uncertainty painted on their blocky faces.

  “Ok then,” Gameknight said as he jumped up onto his horse, Crafter doing the same. “Be sure you’re ready when we get to you,” he said to Mason who stood at his side. “Our lives are counting on it.”

  “We’ll be ready,” the big NPC replied, his green eyes glowing bright with anticipation.

  “Now . . . FOR MINECRAFT!” Gameknight yelled as he kicked his horse into a gallop, Crafter right at his side.

  As soon as their horses stepped onto the iron arena floor, the ground started to rumble as the golems again emerged from the vine-covered walls, their lumbering forms all converging on the two horsemen.

  Mason and the rest of the warriors waited for a minute or two, allowing Gameknight and Crafter to draw the metal giants away from the entrance, then sprinted forward, pickaxes and buckets of water in their hands. Instantly, they started to carve out a large rectangle into the iron floor, their own iron picks ringing out as they dug into the metal floor, excavating a region six blocks wide by twelve blocks long.

  As they dug, Gameknight and Crafter sprinted towards the glowing hill, all of the golems slowly moving towards them.

  “Remember, we must move like we did on your server when we faced Erebus and his army,” Gameknight explained. “Hit and run, like in Wing Commander.”

  “Wing Commander?” Crafter asked.

  “Never mind, just make sure we keep all these golems chasing us and away from Mason and the others. We must keep them busy until Mason is ready.”

  “Well, it doesn’t look like that’s going to be a problem,” Crafter said as he pointed off to the right.

  Turning his head, Gameknight could see at least a dozen golems converging on them, their arms swinging upward violently. Off to the left, there were five more iron giants, a look of overwhelming rage on their metallic faces.

  “Quickly, down the middle!” Gameknight shouted as he urged his horse forward.

  They rode between the two groups of monsters, just staying out of arm’s reach. After passing the groups, they spun around and rode towards the walls of the arena, Gameknight going to the left, Crafter to the right. Using every ounce of speed their horses possessed, they rode around the perimeter, drawing those at the center toward the walls, creating a large opening in the center again.

  “Now!” Gameknight shouted.

  They pivoted and headed straight toward each other, pulling the golems back to the center of the arena. Turning, Gameknight headed for the Rose as Crafter headed back to Mason, looking to draw a long golem back to the center of the arena and away from the vulnerable ground forces.

  Riding up the gentle sloping hill, Gameknight sprinted to the center of the hill. As he passed the peak, he looked down and could see a solitary rose growing out of a block of iron, the metallic pedals giving off a bright white glow that almost hurt his eyes. Looking away from the prize, he focused on the metal beasts that were closing on him from all around. He could see at least a dozen or more golems coming at him from the far side of the arena, their arms swinging wildly, another group approaching from the other direction. The grinding, grating metallic sounds of the lumbering giants filled the arena and reflected off the polished iron walls, making it sound as if there were more than he could see.

  Spinning his horse, he abruptly changed direction, pulling them to the left. He charged straight at a cluster of them. The creatures seemed to wait for him, excited at the prospect of crushing this intruder, but at the last instant he veered away, a massive metallic fist flashing in front of his eyes, just missing his head.

  Gameknight shuddered. He had just avoided death by mere inches.

  That was too close, he thought.

  Snapping the reins, he wheeled and headed for the opposite side of the arena, drawing more of the metal giants toward him. Looking off toward the entrance, he could see that Mason had the rectangular pit dug up and they were starting to fill it with water.

  Good . . . it was time.

  “Come on you metal giants,” Gameknight yelled, “follow me, if you can.”

  Drawing every ounce of speed from his stead, Gameknight sprinted in a zigzag pattern, still drawing the golems together, but also moving them towards the entrance.

  “Everyone get back to the entrance,” he yelled as he approached the watery trap.

  As he neared, Gameknight could see that water had been placed along one end of the rectangle. The water flowed down the length of the rectangle, only able to flow six blocks, then fell into a hole two blocks deep. Spinning in a tight circle, Gameknight let the golems get closer, then sprinted straight for the watery trap. Leaping into the flowing water, he sprinted across the rectangle, having to gallop at an angle to keep from being pulled into the deep end. Once he made it to the opposite side and jumped out of the watery trap, Gameknight turned his horse and watched. The golems headed straight toward him, their arms swinging wildly. The grinding sounds from the metal giants sounded like thunder as they echoed off the nearby walls, making Gameknight want to cover his ears, but instead he drew his sword with his free hand, the other on the reins.

  The first group of golems stepped into the watery rectangle and were instantly pushed sideways by the current. Confusion quickly replaced rage on their faces as they were driven into the deep end by the watery flow, pushed into the two-block deep channel at the far end. Quickly, they found that they could not step out of the deep hole and were trapped.

  A cheer rang out from behind Gameknight as the warriors saw the first victims of the trap. Just then, he was startled by the splashing form of Crafter galloping through the water trap, another cluster of golems on his heels. The iron titans splashed into the trap and were instantly pushed sideways by the current, slowly drawn into the deep end with their comrades. The mighty creatures flailed their arms as they tried to escape the watery clutches of the current, but they were no match for the forces pushing on them; they were just too slow to escape.

  A cheer rang out from the arena entrance as he dismounted. The warriors chanted Gameknight’s name and held fist to chest in salute. As they cheered, the last few remaining golems lumbered toward Gameknight, each glaring at him with such venomous loathing that he bet they wished they could cut him down with those angry eyes. He’d never seen such a look of unbridled hatred except from him nemesis, Erebus. These creatures craved his death with every fiber of their being, and would gladly trade their lives for his.

  In minutes, only one golem remained, but this lone survivor looked different from the rest, bigger and more dangerous. Instead of dark eyes, this one had bright yellow eyes as if made of gold. They sparkled in the rosy red light of the overhead pale crimson sun. In addition, the green vines that hung down the creature’s left side and arm were also wrapped around its head. It looked to Gameknight as if it wore some kind of leafy crown, a majestic look of command on its angry face.

  This must be the leader, the King of the Golems, Gameknight thought.

  The creature stood at the edge of the water trap and glared at Gameknight. Drawing his bow, he fired arrows at the metal giant, one after another, but they bounced harmlessly off his metallic skin; the iron giant did not budge. Glancing down at the rectangle, the King of the Golems started to move around the side, walking around the trap instead of through.

  Oh no, he’s not going to fall for the trap, he thought. I have to do something to make it angrier so that it will charge straight at me.

  And then Gameknight saw the glowing hill over the golem’s shoulder.

  Of course, the Iron Rose.

  Leaping up onto his horse, Gameknight sprinted around the opposite end of the trap and headed straight toward the Rose. He could
see the King of the Golems following him out of the corner of his eye.

  I have to get to it and dig it up before that monster can reach me.

  Digging his heels into his steed, Gameknight sprinted up the hill. When he reached to top, he leapt off his horse and landed on the ground with his iron pickaxe in his hand. Hammering away at the block under the Rose, he dug as fast as he could. The grinding, grating sound of the golem was getting louder.

  “Get out of there,” Stitcher yelled from the entrance. “He’s coming!”

  “Move, Gameknight,” someone else yelled. “MOVE!”

  Gameknight ignored the warning and focused on digging.

  The iron block was stubborn, not wanting to give up its prize. Gameknight kept at it, even though he could now feel the ground shake with each lumbering footstep of the approaching giant.

  “He’s getting closer, get out of there!” someone yelled.

  Driving his pick even harder, Gameknight could see cracks starting to form on the iron block, but they were also forming on his pick, his tool starting to lose its strength in the battle.

  THUMP . . . THUMP . . .

  The footsteps of the mighty giant were shaking the ground so hard that it was almost knocking Gameknight over. He wanted to look up, to see how close he was to death. But he knew that if he looked away, the battle would be lost and the iron block would win. Instead, he pushed harder on his pick, swinging it with every ounce of strength.

  And then, SNAP, his pick shattered on his last swing . . . he’d lost. Out of pure instinct, Gameknight ducked just as a mighty iron fist wooshed past his head. As he stood, Gameknight looked down at the rose and was surprised to find the iron block had also shattered, leaving the rose floating there on the ground. Reaching down, he scooped it up and rolled to the side just as another iron-mailed fist move within inches of his head.