Confronting the Dragon

by Mark Cheverton

  Moving from monster to monster, the metal giants stomped on those that were foolish enough to attack while flinging their arms into clusters of creatures, throwing bodies high into the air. In minutes, the attacking army was in full retreat, the few that survived seeking to get as far from this place as they could.

  When Gameknight was far enough away, he turned and watched the melee. He could see Erebus across the battlefield, the dark creature’s eyes burning bright red with hatred and malice. And then, in a cloud of purple mist, Erebus disappeared.

  “Gameknight . . . we won,” Stitcher said as she looked up into his eyes.

  “What . . . what?”

  “We won, look.”

  Gameknight turned his head away from where Erebus had been standing and looked back at the battlefield. He could see that all the monsters had fled to the south, the few stragglers being picked off by the cavalry. But now that the monsters were gone, the iron golems continued to pursue the User-that-is-not-a-user.

  “Listen,” he said to Stitcher, “I’m going to lead the golems away, then catch up with the army.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The golems, they won’t stop until they get the Iron Rose back. I’m going to lead them away to the south, maybe catch some of the monsters. Tell Mason to head north, that’s where the next key is located. I’ll catch up after I lead them away. Now go.”

  He gave her a shove, pushing her off the horse, then galloped away.

  Landing on the ground in a crouch, she rolled once then sprang to her feet. She watched as Gameknight999 galloped away, then turned and started walking back to their army. The ground shook as the iron giants headed off to the south after Gameknight999, all except for the King of the Golems. The majestic leader stepped up to her and stopped, its crown of vines standing out dark against its forehead. Stitcher readied herself for his attack, but instead of swinging his mighty arms, he slowly raised one hand. Held within his massive fist was a single rose, its red color in bright contrast to his shining metal skin. Carefully, she took the flower as she watched the golems continue their trek, following Gameknight’s trail.

  She put the flower to her nose and inhaled its perfumed scent, then looked up as the sound of approaching hooves reached her ears. A squad of cavalry was approaching with Mason and Crafter out front. Reaching up, she grabbed Crafter’s hand and swung up into the saddle, then looked at the backs of the iron golems.

  “Be safe, User-that-is-not-a-user, and come back soon,” she said. “We cannot do this without you.”

  Looking down at her enchanted bow, she smiled and thought about her sister, then stared up at the craggy mountains that loomed in the distance.

  “I’ll find you somehow, sister,” Stitcher said aloud to no one. She looked back in the direction Gameknight had ridden and sighed. “We’ll find you . . . I promise.”

  CHAPTER 19

  EREBUS

  Erebus materialized near the foot of the craggy mountain. As the mist of purple teleportation particles cleared, he looked up at the stony peak. The narrow rocky spire stretched up high into the air, the neighboring peaks reaching up just as high in the background. They looked to Erebus like the clawed fingers on some kind of hand that had pierced up through the ground, the fingers bent and distorted as if in terrible pain.

  They made him smile.

  Looking about the landscape, he could see the large tunnel opening at the foot of one of the peaks. Sick, leafless trees dotted the area, their bald limbs stretching out in hopeless despair. At first, these contorted trees made him uneasy, but now he was starting to appreciate their anguished beauty. Off to the right, the King of the Endermen could see some trees with their leaves still attached. But as he watched, he saw the leaves on one start to wither and die on the brown braches, the leafy canopy slowly turning from a lush green to a sickly grey, then crumbling to ash. It made him smile.

  As he walked toward the tunnel opening, Erebus saw one of the shadow-crafters approaching from the direction of the now dead tree. It was the one that never seemed to speak . . . just watched; the one with the bright glowing eyes. Zombiebrine had never told them this crafter’s name, but seemed to silently defer to him as if he were the one really in charge . . . curious.

  Erebus nodded to the shadow-crafter as he approached the tunnel opening. He noticed for the first time that this crafter lacked the typical bulbous nose and unibrow that he’d come to expect from the NPCs and shadow-crafters of Minecraft. In fact, this creature looked more like a user than an NPC. Glancing above his head, Erebus saw no letters floating above his dark hair, nor the server thread of a user. He was definitely part of this server, like Erebus and every monster and NPC, but he was something different . . . more than what appeared.

  Interesting.

  The shadow-crafter disappeared into the tunnel entrance. Erebus started to follow but stopped as the tunnel grew bright. Something aflame was approaching. Stopping in his tracks, Erebus waited as a stream of blazes emerged from the entrance followed by a group of wither-skeletons, their dark ashen bones lit with an orange-ish hue from the internal glow of the blazes. Following the dark skeletons was Malacoda himself. The King of the Nether floated high up into the air as soon as he cleared the tunnel entrance. A look of nervous unease seemed to leave his wrinkled brow as soon as he was high enough off the ground to be out of reach.

  Following Malacoda came Zombiebrine and a few other shadow-crafters. Erebus could see the one with the glowing eyes standing back in the shadows of the tunnel, close enough to hear, but not close enough to be seen . . . except of course by the keen eyes of the King of the Endermen.

  Off to the right of the entrance, Erebus noticed the iron cage was now sitting atop a pedestal of stone, his red-haired prize still trapped within. He gave her an evil toothy smile then turned and faced Malacoda.

  “Where are your forces, enderman?” Malacoda asked.

  “Most are destroyed. Some are approaching, but very few.”

  Erebus lowered his head as if showing respect, as he knew that Malacoda would be dangerous when he heard this news. Gathering his teleportation powers, he readied himself to leave in case the ghast struck out at him, but he found that he could not draw the purple particles to him; he could not teleport.

  Looking up, he saw an evil grin painted on the baby-like face of the King of the Nether, his beady little eyes burning a bright red. The tips of the ghast’s tentacles were glowing a soft orange, as if working some kind of magic.

  “Going somewhere, Erebus?”

  “Ahhh . . . no . . . I was just . . .”

  “Stop your excuses,” Malacoda boomed. “I still have use for you, that is why you still live. Now tell me what happened to that poor excuse of an army you commanded.”

  “It was the User-that-is-not-a-user,” Erebus said. An angry scowl formed on his dark face when he mentioned the name of his enemy. “He has a large force of NPCs and they were ready for us. Somehow, they knew that we were coming. Their fortifications were adequate but not enough to stop us.”

  “Yet you still come before me in defeat. Why is that enderman?”

  “He had iron golems . . . ahh . . . sire.”

  “What’s this?” Zomiebrine asked as he stepped forward. “He commanded iron golems? What did they look like? Were they all identical, or did one wear a leafy crown?”

  “Yes, one did look like you say, with a crown of vines and leaves around his head,” Erebus explained.

  Zombiebrine turned and looked back at the tunnel opening. Erebus could see with his keen enderman eyes that the shadow-crafter hiding in the shadows looked disturbed, his eyes burning brighter than normal. It looked like Zombiebrine was in silent communication to this creature, somehow. When their soundless conversation was completed, Zombiebrine turned back and faced Malacoda.

  “They have the first key!” the green shadow-crafter explained. “The iron golems were the guardians of the Iron Rose, and the King of the Golems would never leave his post unl
ess the Rose had been taken.”

  Malacoda glared down at Erebus as if this were his fault, somehow.

  “They must have had some help,” the King of the Endermen interjected. “The way they used the land to defeat our forces, growing trees in an instant and using grass to ensnare my spiders in the last battle . . . they must be getting help from someone.”

  “Why didn’t I know of this?” Zombiebrine snapped.

  He turned to glance back at the tunnel opening, then turned back to Erebus and Malacoda.

  “They are being helped by the light-crafters,” Zombiebrine explained.

  Bringing his hands to his mouth, the shadow-crafter blew through his green-tinted fingers creating a high-pitched whistling sound that grated on everyone’s ears. A rustling sound came from the tunnel as all of the shadow-crafters emerged from the dark passage.

  “We must pursue the army of light and destroy them,” Zombiebrine said. “They have the first key and must be destroyed. It is time to attack.”

  “No!” Erebus snapped.

  All eyes turned to the tall enderman.

  “We will let the User-that-is-not-a-user lead us to the second key. We’ll let him battle the monsters that protect that key. And after he’s unlocked the Source for us, then we will attack.”

  “You speak as if you are in command,” Malacoda said, a violent edge to his voice.

  Erebus gathered his teleportation power, but found, again, that this ability was, at the moment, out of reach. He could see the ends of Malacoda’s tentacles glowing ever so slightly; that must be how he was extinguishing his teleportation powers. Looking up into Malacoda’s hateful eyes, Erebus bowed and extended his long arms out from his sides in a flourish.

  “I only seek to serve the King of the Nether,” he screeched.

  Malacoda looked down on Erebus and smiled.

  “It is good that you know your place, enderman.” Malacoda said. “But I have decided that we will follow the User-that-is-not-a-user, and destroy him when I am ready.” Turning he looked down at his wither-skeletons. “Gather the troops, we leave as soon as possible.”

  “What of the prisoner?” one of the blazes asked, his voice filled with a mechanical wheezing sound.

  “Our little pet will be kept here. My wither-skeletons will guard her and keep my prize safe.”

  “You are most wise,” Erebus said meekly. “But perhaps it would be best to move her into the tunnels and surround her with lava so that escape is impossible.”

  “I don’t need lava to keep my little pet safe,” Malacoda snapped. “I will leave some of my wither-skeletons here to stand watch. They will not fail me as you have.”

  Malacoda glanced at his wither-skeleton general and nodded. The dark monster raised the shimmering bow he’d taken from Hunter in salute, then motioned to his other dark comrades. The ashen skeletons moved around the iron cage in which their prisoner sat, at least twenty of them, each with weapon drawn.

  Standing, the King of the Endermen moved to one of his own endermen and spoke in a low voice.

  “You are to stay and watch over the prisoner, but stay out of sight. Report to me if anything happens.” Erebus said. “Do you understand?”

  The enderman nodded, then stepped backward and disappeared amidst the leafless trees, his dark lanky form looking as lifeless as the bald tree limbs.

  But then suddenly, Erebus could feel a tingling sensation across his body. It was as if he were getting stronger, somehow. Looking about the area, he saw nothing unusual, nor did anyone notice the changes that were occurring within his dark red body. But as he glanced into the tunnel entrance, he could see the shadow-crafter with the bright eyes working on something, his stubby hands a blur of crafting activity. Then his hands stopped and at the same time, the tingling stopped. The shadow-crafter looked up from the dark entrance and stared at the King of the Endermen, his eyes burning bright. And then he gave Erebus an evil smile, like he knew something that the enderman did not . . .

  CHAPTER 20

  DAYDREAMING

  Gameknight daydreamed as he rode back toward the north. He was giving his horse a bit of a rest after that harrowing sprint from the iron golems and was now just relaxing a bit.

  He’d led the metal giants across a narrow pathway that spanned a crevasse. He’d built the dirt pathway so that he could trap the golems on the other side and it had worked. They had followed him across the narrow pathway like mice, gigantic terrifying metallic mice, following a piece of cheese, but when they were on the other side of the deep crevasse, he’d doubled back, sprinted across the narrow pathway, then destroyed the dirt bridge with TNT, trapping the monsters on the other side. The crevasse had stretched as far as he could see in both directions; the golems would be trapped there . . . but for how long? Gameknight could still remember the furious glare the King of the Golems had given him, his dark eyes burning with hatred. The monster’s metallic grinding voice still echoed in his head.

  ‘You will not escape our wrath,’ the King of the Golems had said from the other side of the crevasse, ‘and nothing will stop us. We will take back what is ours; whether you die as a result of it is up to you.’

  He shuddered as the memory filled him with dread. Gameknight knew that the King of the Golems would never stop until he had the Iron Rose back.

  As his horse walked, the rocking motion of the animal seemed to lull him into a waking sleep. Memories of people from his past surfaced from his subconscious . . . his parents . . . his sister . . . Shawny . . . the Minecraft team he used to be a member of, Team Apocalypse . . . until he griefed them and was kicked off. But as his mind floated through these memories like a dream, a familiar voice started to tickle the back of his mind. It was a voice that he hadn’t heard for what seemed a long time, the voice of his friend, probably his only friend.

  It was Shawny.

  He was calling out to Gameknight, texting his name over and over again. It was like how Gameknight had contacted Shawny back in Crafter’s village. The thought of that village made him sigh. He yearned for those simpler days, when it was just Minecraft, not this bigger-than-life battle he was facing. But as he was about to answer his friend the voice disappeared, replaced with another familiar one . . . Hunter.

  A vision surfaced within Gameknight’s mind, an image of Hunter trapped within an iron cage. She was shaking the bars and calling out his name as a collection of wither-skeletons looked on, all of them laughing a bony clattering laugh. Behind her, he could see a series of thin rocky spires, the jagged peaks stretching high up into the air. A silvery mist was wrapped around the peaks, its flowing tendrils slowly moving down the tall summits. The mountains were thin and crooked, like bent stone spires that had been distorted by something vile and full of malice. At the foot of one of these peaks, he could see a large cave opening, the darkness within the entrance filling him with dread.

  Suddenly, Hunter stopped her screams and stared straight at Gameknight. A silvery mist seemed to surround her as the wither-skeletons seemed to fade away.

  “User-that-is-not-a-user, you must come for me,” she said in a calm voice as the iron bars slowly disappeared.

  She was now floating in the air with the silver mist swirling about her in great turbulent currents. Her vibrant red hair was pulled along the silvery currents, making it look as if she had been enveloped in some kind of magical fiery aura. Her deep brown eyes stared straight into Gameknight’s and he knew that she could also see him.

  “It’s time for you to be the User-that-is-not-the-user that was prophesized. Your time has come, but first you must rescue me. I know their plans. The army is walking into a trap. Erebus and Malacoda are planning to . . .”

  Suddenly he was jolted out of the Land of Dreams. His horse started to gallop as a creeper came out from behind a tree and started to ignite. The explosion tore a great crater into the ground, but the speed of the horse had saved him.

  “I have to save her before it’s too late.”

  Digging his h
eels into his mount, he sprinted forward to the North. As he bolted across the landscape, he could see the trailing edge of the army start to come into view.

  It was the rear guard.

  They saw the lone figure approaching and reformed into a defensive formation, swordsmen at the front, archers behind. But as Gameknight neared, the warriors recognized him and cheered.

  “The User-that-is-not-a-user has returned!”

  As Gameknight rode through their formation to the front of the column, word of his arrival percolated ahead of him. By the time he’d reached the head of the column, the army had stopped.

  Mason was already dismounted when he reached him. Stitcher sat in front of Crafter on his horse, her shimmering bow in her hand, arrow notched of course. Gameknight rode straight up to Mason and dismounted, then motioned to Crafter and Stitcher to join them.

  “I see that the User-that-is-not-a-user has survived his trials with the golems and returned to us,” Mason said. “I hope you didn’t destroy all of the golems.”

  “They are all still safe,” Gameknight answered. “I delayed them, but if we are not quick enough, they may yet surprise us.”

  He felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around his chest. Looking down he saw Stitcher looking up at him smiling.

  “I knew you’d make it back,” she said. “I told Crafter that you would . . .”

  “We don’t have time now,” Gameknight interrupted. “Malacoda and Erebus are planning something, Mason. You are leading the army into a trap of some kind.”

  “A trap!” the big NPC said, drawing his sword in fluid practiced motion.

  The sound of other swords being drawn rang out as nearby warriors saw Mason’s reaction and prepared for battle.