Terrors of the Forest

by Mark Cheverton

  “What kind of biome is this?” Gameknight asked.

  “It’s a Mystic Grove,” Hunter said. “You should know that. We’ve been here a hundred times.”

  “Not in my timeline,” said the User-that-is-not-a-user. “This is all new to me.”

  “Well, if you’re surprised by this.” she added. “Wait until you see …”

  Suddenly, Hunter grew quiet, her eyes darting back and forth. She drew an arrow from her inventory and notched it to her bowstring. The smell of smoke wafted through the air, followed by what Gameknight could only describe as a distant giggling sound.

  “Fire imp,” Fletcher exclaimed. “Everyone watch your backs.”

  The short, chubby villager pulled his bow out and notched an arrow. Gameknight had never met this NPC before, but Crafter had assured him that Fletcher was a trusted companion, and that they’d been in many battles together. The User-that-is-not-a-user couldn’t remember the villager at all; that was yet another stark example of how the timeline had changed with Weaver’s kidnapping. Things had happened differently in this modified version of Minecraft, and Gameknight couldn’t remember them because he was still part of the unchanged and undamaged timeline.

  Fletcher jumped off his horse and crouched behind some tall grass. He moved much faster than Gameknight would have expected for a villager of his size.

  “Stitcher, draw them out,” Fletcher said. “You know what to do.”

  The young girl dismounted and ran to a nearby clearing, then pulled out two ingots of gold and banged them together. Gameknight moved to the girl’s side.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m luring the fire imps to us. They love gold.” She banged the ingots together again. “You should know this, you taught it to us. Now get your bow out and quit acting like a fool.”

  Suddenly, a ball of purple fire streaked toward them.

  “Get down!” Gameknight said.

  He grabbed Stitcher and pulled her down into the tall grass. Off to the right he saw Fletcher stand and fire his bow. He shot four times, drawing and releasing his arrows faster than Gameknight had ever seen before.

  “Behind you,” Stitcher said.

  Now he saw the creature. It resembled a tiny demon with splotchy brown skin and glowing red eyes. Two sharp white horns stuck out of the creature’s head, and a pair of stubby white teeth protruded from its snarling mouth. A pair of orange wings, like those of a bat, stuck out from its back. If not for its diminutive size, the creature would have been terrifying.

  “What is that thing?!” Gameknight exclaimed. He was so shocked by the sight of the little demon, he couldn’t move.

  “That’s a fire imp, of course,” Stitcher said, as if it were completely obvious.

  Suddenly, Woodcutter appeared with his iron axe. He hit the creature, making it flash red as it took damage. The monster turned and began to summon a ball of magical purple flames to retaliate, but just then Stitcher fired her bow.

  “Ha ha,” she exclaimed, then fired again. “Take that!” Then she fired one last time, and the demonic-looking monster disappeared with a pop.

  Woodcutter smiled and waved at Stitcher.

  “That was fun,” she said as she helped Gameknight to his feet.

  “Stitcher, killing should never be fun,” the User-that-is-not-a-user said. “It should only be done when absolutely necessary.”

  “And that was necessary … and fun,” she said with a smile.

  Gameknight shook his head.

  What happened to you, Stitcher? Gameknight thought. The Stitcher I knew would never take joy in killing. What has happened here? How can so much have changed so deeply?

  Suddenly, the wolves began to howl in the distance, their proud voices echoing through the Mystic Grove.

  “They found the trail,” Herder said excitedly.

  Woodcutter grinned and slapped the lanky boy on the back, his strong arm almost knocking the skinny NPC over.

  “Everyone mount up,” Hunter said. “We need to make up for lost time.”

  They gathered their horses and galloped off toward the howling animals. Gameknight moved his horse next to Digger’s and rode at his friend’s side. They moved quickly through the forest, all riding in silence.

  When they reached the wolf pack, the white furry animals took off running, continuing to follow the trail. They passed out of the Mystic Grove and into a different biome. Here, bright pink leaves decorated all of the trees in every shade possible, with clusters of dark pink mixed in with groups of light; they reminded Gameknight999 of massive cotton candy trees, but Woodcutter told him they were actually cherry blossom trees. Delicate white, yellow and blue flowers decorated the grassy landscape between the trees. Gameknight was surprised to see iridescent particles floating up from the blue flowers as if there were some kind of magical effect on them. Butterflies flittered about. They sought out the sparkling blue petals and landed on them, somehow absorbing the glowing particles. It was a beautiful scene.

  Suddenly, a growling sort of noise filled the air. But it didn’t sound like some kind of enraged beast; it was more like wood creaking and groaning just before breaking. The User-that-is-not-a-user drew his enchanted diamond sword and looked nervously around, wondering what new creature was stalking them now. And then, when he saw it, Gameknight couldn’t believe his eyes.

  One of the trees before him had just come to life. Its eyes opened, revealing a face in the gnarled bark, and then, before he could process what he was seeing, the tree’s long arms were reaching for him and its muscular legs were pushing the massive creature forward—toward him.

  “ENT!” Crafter yelled.

  “You shall not grrrrrrr be allowed to grrrrrr hurt my forest,” the creature grumbled.

  “Everyone scatter!” Fletcher shouted.

  The companions kicked their horses into action, each galloping in a different direction. Gameknight wasn’t sure what do to do. This monster—this ent—was far bigger than anything he’d ever battled.

  How can I defeat this? he thought. I’m not strong enough to destroy this giant monster.

  Gameknight reached for his iron sword, but his fingers brushed against something soft and fragile. And that gave him an idea.

  Dismounting, he put away his weapons and held his hands out to show they were empty, and he was not a threat.

  The monster came closer, its massive root-covered feet smashing into the ground, making the entire grove shake.

  Gameknight stopped and pulled out the sapling that he’d picked up when he first came into Minecraft. Carefully, he planted it into the ground, then stepped back and sprinkled some bone meal onto the tiny tree. Instantly, it burst upward into a full-grown oak.

  Moving around the trunk of the new tree, he walked to the ent, which now stood still, and stared up into its dark, woody face.

  “I am a friend of Treebrin, and I have replanted forests destroyed by the blazes,” Gameknight said in a loud voice. “I am a friend of the trees and am not your enemy.”

  “The one before grrrrr said you were here to grrrrrr destroy the forest.”

  “Did he have another with him, tied up with rope?”

  The ent nodded its head slowly. The wood creaked and cracked as its neck bent, a shower of leaves falling to the ground.

  “That was Entity303, and he seeks to destroy all of Minecraft,” Gameknight said. “The fact that he takes an innocent villager as a prisoner shows the truth in my words. We are not your enemies, we are friends.”

  Crafter rode his horse near the ent, then dismounted and moved to Gameknight’s side.

  “You are grrrr a crafter?” the ent asked as it looked him over.

  “Yes, and you can trust the words you heard,” Crafter said. “We are friends and we pursue that user. He is an enemy to Minecraft.”

  The ent glared down at the pair, considering their words, then turned and glanced at the others in their party. “Grrrrr you may pass, but make sure grrrr that one keep his grr
rrr axe still.” The ent pointed a leafy branch toward Woodcutter.

  “He will not use his axe on a tree,” Gameknight said. “You have my word.”

  “Very well,” the ent replied, then walked off toward the Mystic Grove, its natural habitat.

  “Everyone mount up! We’re losing too much time,” Gameknight said, his voice now filled with the firm tone of command.

  “Herder, get the wolves following the trail,” the User-that-is-not-a-user ordered. “From now on, we ride hard!”

  CHAPTER 5

  THE PECH

  The hooves of the horses were thunderous as the party galloped through the pink Cherry Blossom Forest. At times the wolves had trouble following the scent amidst the many aromatic flowers that covered the landscape. Herder chastised the animals, yelling at them with a fury that the User-that-is-not-a-user was shocked to see. He didn’t know Herder had such anger boiling within his lanky frame. In Gameknight’s timeline, Herder was the kindest, most compassionate and sensitive individual you could possibly meet. But here, in this modified reality, the Wolf-man had a dark side that Gameknight didn’t like.

  Soon, they came to the end of the pink forest and entered a terrain that appeared as if it was dying. At the boundary between the biomes, the lush grass from the Cherry Blossom Forest instantly turned a dull charcoal color, as if the vibrancy and life had been sucked out of it. All around them were tall trees, some reaching twenty to thirty blocks high. Their bark was as gray as the ground, and their barren branches reached up to the sky as if asking why they must suffer. Lifeless-looking vines hung down from the empty branches, their leaves also the pitiful gray of the surroundings. The hanging vegetation made the trees appear as if they were actually weeping … it was a sad spectacle.

  But worse of all was the smell. This forest had a putrid, decaying sort of smell, with an acidic bite to it that left a terrible taste in all their mouths.

  “This is terrible,” Gameknight said. “What happened here?”

  “Nothing happened here,” Crafter replied. “This is just an Ominous Woods Biome.”

  “Just an Ominous Woods Biome?” the User-that-is-not-a-user asked. “There is nothing just about this. The land here suffers. This is not acceptable.”

  “This is just how … ummm … this is how this biome was made,” Crafter explained. “We can’t do anything about it. Besides, you’ve been here countless times.”

  “Not in my timeline,” Gameknight replied.

  “You’re still sticking with that weird time travel story?” Stitcher asked.

  “It’s not a story,” Gameknight snapped. “It all happened, I promise. I was there when Two-sword Pass got its name. I was there when the Abyss was formed. I was there at Midnight Bridge, and I saw the Dragon’s Teeth with my own eyes. The Great Zombie Invasion may have happened a hundred years ago for all of you, but it happened last week for me.” His horse kicked a gray bush, and it collapsed into dust. “I remember what Minecraft used to be like, and now, with Weaver taken out of the timeline, I see what it has done to the Overworld and to all of you, and I’m telling you, this is all wrong. We must rescue that boy and put him back into the past, so everything can go back to normal again.

  “Look around at this poisonous land. This never existed in my timeline. The Overworld never looked as if it was dying, like this.” He held his hands out wide, as if encompassing the landscape. “The Minecraft that I knew was never like this.”

  “So you’re saying you come from a different Minecraft?” Hunter asked.

  “No … I don’t know,” Gameknight stammered. “Time travel is complicated and timelines are confusing, but what I’m telling you is true. I’m new to this timeline, and all of you are different from the companions I knew in my timeline.”

  “We understand,” Crafter said, nodding his head.

  “So you don’t think I’m crazy?” the User-that-is-not-a-user asked, relieved.

  “We never said that,” Hunter replied with a smile. “But, as always, we’re with you.”

  Crafter nodded, as did all the others except Stitcher, who was scanning the terrain, searching for some unfortunate monsters to shoot. Gameknight sighed, then kicked his horse forward, continuing the journey.

  The forest was absolutely silent. No birds were chirping, no deer scraping their horns against the tree bark to mark their territory, not even the buzz of bees from the many beehives they saw in the last forest. It was as if all life had been stilled, somehow. Even the wolves and their companions stayed eerily silent. Everyone felt afraid to disturb the deadly silence of this wounded land.

  Suddenly they heard the clicking of spiders, and a high-pitched scream from some creature. They urged their horses into a gallop and headed for the sound. When Gameknight crested a small hill, he saw the source of the cry. A strange little creature that looked like a tiny gnome was trapped in a block of spider web and surrounded by spiders. The fuzzy monsters were appearing around him, popping into existence as if being conjured there by magic. In the gnome-like creature’s hands, he held what appeared to be a fishing pole. The gray-skinned creature pointed it at the spiders, keeping them away … for now. Gameknight knew the sun was still up, but in this biome, the sky was perpetually gray, and even appeared to merge at the horizon with the ashen landscape. The spiders were difficult to see from this distance, only their glowing red eyes easy to pick out.

  “He’ll never be able to protect himself with that,” Stitcher said with a laugh.

  The little gray gnome cast out the line. The hook snagged a spider, and then waves of magical energy flowed through the line and into the spider. The monster squealed in pain, but for some reason, so did the trapped gnome. It was as if the gnome was feeling just as much pain as the spider.

  “Come on, we need to go help him,” Gameknight said.

  “He’s not our problem,” Stitcher said. “I thought we were chasing Weaver and your user friend.”

  “That user is not my friend, and this creature needs our help.” Gameknight turned his horse and faced the young girl. “The Stitcher I know would help anyone in need. That creature needs our help. You can see all the spiders appearing; there must be a spawner somewhere.”

  “That’s a spiderwood tree,” Woodcarver said.

  “What?” asked Gameknight.

  “There’s a spawner block underneath.” Woodcutter pulled out his axe and held it firmly in his right hand, the muscles in his huge arm bulging. “That block under the tree will keep spawning spiders forever. I know how to stop them, but I’ll have to take that tree down.”

  “I don’t care,” Gameknight replied. “Let’s get down there and help that little guy.”

  He kicked his horse into a gallop as he drew his enchanted diamond sword. Steering with his knees, he drew his iron blade with his other hand and headed straight for the trapped gnome. When he neared, he leapt off the horse and attacked the nearest spider, the one on the end of the fishing line. It disappeared with a pop, ending both the monster’s and the gnome’s cries of pain.

  The little gray-skinned creature stared at Gameknight, as if it were getting ready to attack him, when an arrow whizzed by and hit another of the dark, fuzzy monsters in the back.

  “Got him! What a shot!” Stitcher exclaimed gleefully.

  “Wolves … ATTACK!” Herder shouted. “Let none of them survive!”

  Gameknight was shocked to hear Herder utter those words. He was about to glance back at the lanky boy when a clicking sound came from his right. Gameknight turned away from the gnome and faced the spider as it attacked, swiping at him with its wicked curved claws. The User-that-is-not-a-user blocked the attack with his iron sword, then brought the diamond blade down on the monster. It flashed red, taking damage, then tried to scurry away. Gameknight let it run and instead headed for the tree under which the gnome was trapped. The wolves fell on the wounded spider, destroying it in seconds.

  Under the tree, the tiny gnome screamed again as it hooked its fishing line into another
spider. The bolts of jagged power running down the line looked like multicolored lightning. As the magical energy slashed into the spider, the monster and the gnome both screamed in pain together, their anguish somehow synchronized.

  And then Woodcutter was there at the base of the tree, his iron axe already in motion. Next to him stood Fletcher. The fat NPC was drawing arrows and firing with incredible speed. The spiders knew what they were doing and were trying to protect the spawner. Gameknight moved to Woodcutter’s other side and stood with both swords ready, their magical enchantments casting a circle of iridescent purple light. Digger moved behind them, watching their backs with his big pickaxe held ready, but not attacking. Strange, thought Gameknight. Normally, the Digger he knew would have been on the front lines in an effort to keep the others safe.

  A spider jumped at him, the monster’s claw scraping against his diamond armor. Before he could counterattack, a pair of flaming arrows embedded themselves into the monster, instantly setting it on fire. Gameknight slashed at the creature, but before he could do any damage, two more arrows hit the monster, making it disappear with a pop.

  “Ha, another great shot,” Stitcher shouted from somewhere in the gloomy landscape.

  Suddenly, the tree trunk finally broke under Woodcutter’s blows, revealing a spawner nestled in the ground. Glowing orange embers bounced around within the metallic cage, the body of a spider spinning at the center.

  “Digger, break the spawner with your pick,” Gameknight shouted.

  The stocky NPC glanced at Gameknight, and he saw something in the NPCs eyes he’d never seen before … fear.

  Putting away his sword, he grabbed Digger’s pickaxe and started to hit the spawner. Cracks began to form around the metallic cage. The spider was spinning faster and faster; soon it would spawn. He swung the pickaxe with all his strength, hitting it again and again and …