For the first time, Watcher looked at the terrain around them. They were on a huge mushroom island, with red and white mooshrooms walking in random directions. The brightly-spotted cattle with the tiny red and white mushrooms growing out of the top of their heads and backs walked toward Er-Lan. The zombie held his green hand out to the animals to pet them on their noses; he had a way with animals few understood. All across the pinkish-gray ground, little mushroom spores puffed upward, floating into the air for a bit, then settling back onto the blocky surface. Nearby, tall mushrooms stood upon the hills, some domed and spotted red and white like the mooshrooms, others a light brown and completely flat. The entire company could have easily gathered beneath one of the flattened mushrooms without feeling crowded. Each type stood on a striped white stalk, the huge structures gently swaying in the constant breeze.
Watcher turned to Mapper. “Any idea where we are, or what’s up ahead?” He moved to the old man’s side. “I’d like to know what we’re heading toward, rather than just blindly following the zombie tracks.”
“Well … I do have an idea.” The old man gave a mischievous smile, then reached into his inventory and pulled out a map, its edges jagged and torn, as if it had been ripped from something larger. “Remember when we went into the map room a few months ago, in that forest mansion?”
“You mean when we fought the vindicators and evokers on the way to the spider warlord’s lair?” Watcher asked.
The old man nodded. “I remembered that the map spread across the table reacted to your touch and changed, showing us the terrain around the spiders’ lair. Well … I thought having a portion of that map might be helpful, so I cut a piece off.” He held the map up in the air, a satisfied grin on his face. “Here it is. I’m hoping it will show us what we need to know.”
“I don’t understand,” Cutter said. “That piece of paper looks blank.”
“Exactly.” Mapper nodded his head. “But let’s see what happens when Watcher holds it.”
The old NPC held out the map to Watcher.
I hope my magic is strong enough for this to work, Watcher thought, reaching out to take it.
When he touched the map, there was a brief spark, then lines and scribbles appeared.
“Well look at that,” Builder said. “It changed when he touched it.” He moved closer to Watcher. “My little niece would love to see something like that.”
Watcher smiled with pride as the soldiers murmured to each other, impressed.
“Let’s see what it shows.” Mapper scanned the map from over Watcher’s shoulder.
The map showed their position at the center of the mushroom island. Around them were various biomes, some of which Watcher couldn’t discern from the map, though others were obvious: deserts, forest, grasslands …
Pinch the map … A familiar voice whispered into the back of Watcher’s mind. Reaching into his inventory, he lifted out the Flail of Regrets and held it by his side, the large, spiked cube resting on the ground.
What? he thought to the mysterious presence existing within the magical weapon.
Pinch the map to see beyond.
Beyond? And then he understood.
Watcher put two fingers on the map, then slid them together, as if he were pinching the surface of the map. Instantly, the image compressed as if it had just zoomed out, showing a larger part of the landscape.
“What just happened?” Mapper asked.
“I just zoomed out a bit.”
“How did you know to do that?” the old man asked, amazed.
“Well … it’s a wizard thing.” Watcher sounded pleased with himself and smiled, but then frowned when he saw Planter and Blaster both roll their eyes. “What …?”
They just shook their heads.
Seek the Compass, the ancient voice whispered into Watcher’s mind.
He scanned the map and instantly found a shape that looked like a compass. It was a circular structure with four sharp points pointing to the North, South, East, and West. Watcher pointed at the object.
“That’s where we must go … to the Compass. I think we’ll find the location of the Cave of Slumber there.” Watcher glanced to the sky and checked the flow of the clouds to identify which way was north-east, then pointed in that direction. “We need to go that way.”
“How can you be so sure?” Cutter asked, an accusatory tone to his voice.
“Well,” he glanced down at the Flail still in his hand, then brought his gaze back to the big warrior. “I just know, and that should be good enough for all of you.”
“I believe you.” Fencer stepped forward and moved to Watcher’s side. “I’m sure you know what you’re doing. You are a wizard, after all.”
More eyes rolled as Watcher nodded. He felt the rest of the company staring at him with disapproving glares. It made him feel as if he were somehow different from them … and he was.
None of them understand the responsibility that comes with these magical powers, he thought. I’m always expected to save the day and use some enchanted thing to defeat the monsters. None of them really understand or care, except for …
He glanced at Planter, who was scowling at him. But just then, Fencer stepped in front of him and gave Watcher a warm smile.
“You think we should get moving now?” the young girl asked.
“Oh, yeah, Fencer’s right. We should get moving.” He glanced up at the sun, and, for the first time, he noticed its color was … wrong. Instead of being a warm, rich yellow, the sun looked as if the color had been leached out of it, leaving a pale, sickly yellow that was harsh to the eyes. The glowing square was approaching the western horizon. “It looks like we don’t have much time before nightfall. Everyone, follow me.”
He headed off across the pinkish-gray landscape toward the north-east, weaving around the bright red mooshrooms as he walked. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched as the rest of the party reluctantly followed, many of them grumbling under their breath.
“Don’t worry, Watcher, I’m sure you’ll find this cave of yours,” Fencer said, delighted to be walking next to him.
“Yeah … right,” Watcher replied, feeling uncertain for some reason.
He could feel Planter’s stare burning into the back of his head, but he didn’t dare look back; he wasn’t sure if he could face her anger right now. So instead, he just marched across the mushroom island, heading for the mysterious Compass in the distance, the footprints of the Broken Eight going in almost the same direction, but not quite.
It’ll be good to get away from those terrible footprints for a change, Watcher thought.
They will return, the Flail murmured in his mind. The Eight always return.
And those words drove icy daggers of fear into Watcher’s soul.
Krael floated high in the air, his ashen bones merging with the pitch-black night sky, making him almost invisible, with only the stars being blocked out by his dark body and the two glowing crowns on his skulls making his presence known. Below, the Broken Eight walked with their direwolves at their sides, the octet anxious to begin their retribution.
Around them, unnaturally tall spruce trees stretched up into the air, the dark branches looming high overhead almost lost in the gloom of the night. Unseen creatures flitted about between the branches, squeaking with annoyance, their red, beady eyes staring down at the intruders with caution.
“Wither, where are you leading us?” Ya-Sik shouted into the night.
The king of the withers slowly descended to the ground, moving just close enough to the zombies that the shimmering purple light from their enchanted armor bathed him in an iridescent glow. But he still stayed out of reach of their razor-sharp swords; Krael was no fool. He wove his way around a thick tree trunk, then spoke to his comrades. “We are heading toward the Cave of Slumber.”
“This zombie doesn’t see a cave,” Tu-Sik said. “Where is this cave?”
“I will find it soon enough.” Center’s voice had an irritated edge.
“How dare that zombie question us like that?” Left hissed quietly, seething with anger.
“Be quiet,” Center whispered. “Say nothing to anger these zombies. I will deal with them in my own way and in my own time.”
Krael smiled deviously, then moved closer to the zombies.
“How is it the king of the withers knows where it is located in this world?” Pe-Sik asked, his helmet in the shape of an evoker’s head staring out into the empty night.
“We were here when it happened,” Left said in a harsh, dismissive voice.
“That’s right. We barely escaped when the wizards captured the other withers.” Right’s voice, as always, was calm and melodic. “If it weren’t for our incredible skill in battle and careful plans, we’d be trapped in the Cave of Slumber right now with all the rest of the withers.”
“No other withers are free?” Ur-Sik asked, the legs on his spider helmet brushing against the rough bark of a spruce, making a spooky scraping sound.
All three skulls shook their heads. “A few were scattered here and there, escaping the trap, but very few. The only way a wither can exist now is if they are summoned using souls and wither skulls. And usually, those that are summoned into existence are attacked and destroyed. None survive long.”
“Then if Krael has been here before, then the wither is heading straight for the Cave of Slumber?” Ya-Sik asked.
“Well … it was hundreds of years ago.” Krael floated higher into the air, out of reach of the zombies’ swords. “We don’t remember exactly where it is.”
Some of the zombies growled. The direwolves sensed their anger and growled as well, each baring their sharp white teeth.
“But we remember some things,” Right added quickly. “We know the Cave is in the Northern part of the world here, on the other side of the Creeper’s Teeth.”
“Creeper’s Teeth?” two zombies asked at the same time.
“You don’t know about the Creeper’s Teeth?” Left jeered. “You zombies know nothing.”
“Left, be quiet!” Center snapped.
“Tell us of the Creeper’s Teeth.” Ya-Sik demanded, glaring up at the wither king, the eyes on his dragon’s head-shaped helmet glowing with magical energy.
“The Creeper’s Teeth is a range of mountains formed by the wizards after they captured the withers.” Center’s eyes glowed with anger as he thought of his hated enemies. “They’re steep mountains that reach high into the air, with their tops flattened, as if they couldn’t grow any higher. Caves and tunnels pierce the sides of the peaks, with unnatural creatures waiting to attack anyone foolish enough to climb them.”
Krael descended closer to the zombies and lowered his voice.
“The wizards made the Teeth to keep anyone from reaching the Cave of Slumber, for the monsters on those peaks are vicious and powerful. Only the Broken Eight could get past them.”
Ya-Sik and the other zombies smiled.
“While the Eight climb the Creeper’s Teeth, I will be flying overhead, blasting the monsters with my flaming skulls, keeping all of you safe. But if any monster sneaks past my barrage, your swords and direwolves will be enough to destroy them.”
“If Krael can fly over the Creeper’s Teeth, why are the Broken Eight needed?” one of the zombies asked, doubtful.
“First of all, I could not have made it past the Guardians of the Hall without your blades and wolves.” Krael bowed his head to the zombies, thanking them for their ferocious fighting. The zombies stood tall with pride. “Second, the magic used to make the Broken Eight will help me to cancel out the enchantments in the Cave of Slumber. Without the Broken Eight, I would become susceptible to the Cave’s magic, and might never escape. But with the eight of you, we will be able to release my wither companions, then exact our revenge upon the Far Lands and all of its inhabitants.”
The zombies nodded, pleased with the last part.
“So, the wither king’s plan is to walk around until luck happens to lead to the Cave of Slumber?” Ya-Sik’s question had an accusatory tone.
“When I get near, I will feel the pull of its magic,” Krael said. “The enchantments in the Cave of Slumber were made to draw withers to it, then ensnare them in the shadowy cavern. When we are near, I will know it.” The center skull smiled. “That’s when the fun will begin. But until then … we search.”
They moved through the forest, passing the gargantuan trees in complete silence, both the zombies and the wither king lost in thoughts of violence and revenge. As they continued to the north, toward the distant and unseen Creeper’s Teeth, sounds of life started to become audible from the treetops. Torchlight flickered between the branches, making it clear something was up there.
Krael chuckled as he gazed upward. “There is a village overhead.”
The zombies stared up at the warm glow leaking through the foliage.
“This was the first community to rebel during the Great War,” the wither king said. “I think we will do an experiment with them. You’ll enjoy this.” He glared down at the zombies. “Do not destroy them unless I give the word.”
The zombies all nodded.
Up ahead, a spiral staircase wrapped around the trunk of one of the larger trees. The zombies moved up the stairs, their golden armor clanking against the tree’s bark, the direwolves following silently behind. Krael floated upward, following the progress of the zombies as they moved higher and higher up the tree.
When they passed through the lowest branches, they found wooden homes built within the treetops. Narrow walkways spanned the open air between trees, connecting clusters of homes with each other. Standing amongst the homes were villagers, zombies, skeletons, and endermen. Each wore clothing of brown-and-green cloth woven from fibers supplied by the forest, even the monsters. Their clothing almost blended in with the leafy background.
“What kind of foolishness is this?” Ya-Sik growled quietly. “Villagers and monsters living together … it is obscene.”
“Be patient, my friend,” Krael said. “Let’s have some fun. Here’s what I want you to do.” The wither whispered in the zombie leader’s ear, and all the while the monster nodded. When he was done, Ya-Sik smiled.
The king of the withers floated toward the largest collection of individuals, while the Broken Eight and direwolves moved toward a collection of zombies and skeletons.
“Hello, strangers.” A villager in a dark-brown smock with a green stripe running down the center stepped forward. “We haven’t seen any new villagers or monsters for a long time, but all are welcome in this community. What brings you to our trees?”
“What brings us here?” Krael asked, as if the question were ridiculous. “Why, the Great War, of course.”
“The Great War?” The villager laughed. “That has been over for hundreds of years. On this plane of existence, villagers and monsters live together in peace. We are all equal here.”
“Equal? Ha! You still call them monsters. That doesn’t sound very equal to me.” Krael floated over to the village leader and gently pushed him away from the monsters, then lowered his voice and whispered to the NPC. “The war is not over.”
The villager looked stunned.
Krael nodded. “I’m here escorting these zombies to prison for their crimes; they’ve been sentenced to life in the Cave of Slumber. Right now, they obey my commands, but I don’t know how long the enchantments put onto them will last.” He moved closer to the NPC. “Rebellion is sweeping the land, with monsters rising up and attacking villagers. There is hate brewing between the races.”
“That’s impossible,” the villager objected. “Racism and hate is something that is learned, passed on from parent to child. Here, parents teach about peace to all children, both villager and monster alike. We all work together to create a society better than the one that led to the Great War.”
“Well, I have news for you, friend,” Krael said, the lie flowing from his mouth with ease. “Zombies and skeletons and endermen have killed villagers in their sleep al
l across the land. They’re taking over, just as they tried to do before the Great War. In fact, there’s a wizard in this land ready to reignite the fires of war. He’s telling all NPCs to gather their weapons and imprison all the monsters they see.”
“I don’t believe it. Our monsters are peaceful.” The villager shook his head.
“You just said ‘our monsters’ as if you owned them.” Krael shook his head as if disappointed. “Doesn’t sound very equal to me. How do you think the zombies, skeletons, and endermen feel about you referring to them as your property, that they’re monsters instead of equals?” He lowered his voice to but a whisper. “I suspect resentment has been growing amongst them for quite a while. Look at them.”
On the other side of the treetop, Ya-Sik was talking to the monsters, giving a similar speech, but beyond the hearing of the villagers. The zombies and skeletons were frowning, some of them snarling toward the villagers. They glanced at their woven smocks, clothing exactly like what the villagers were wearing, and frowned. Some removed the garments, tearing them from their bodies.
“You see … already, their anger is growing.” Krael turned and looked at the other villagers gathered around him. They all wore similar coarsely woven green-and-brown smocks. “I ordered my zombies to calm your monsters, but it’s not working. Their rage has been growing for a long time. I’ve seen the same in other villages, and the end result is always the same.”
The king of the withers grew quiet and moved to a dark part of the treetop, the enchantments from the dual Crown of Skulls on his two heads bathing him in a soft purple glow. He smiled as the villagers whispered to each other, some running to their homes for weapons and armor.
“Perhaps warning the other villages of this threat would be a good idea,” Krael said to the leader.
The villager nodded nervously and glanced at two NPCs. They took off across the treetops, heading for other communities with the warning.
“I’m not convinced our community is in any danger,” the village leader said. “We are a peaceful village.”
“You’re right, this is a peaceful village,” Krael said. “That is, until it isn’t anymore. I pity the parent who waits until it is too late to protect their children. I’ve seen it too many times, but maybe you’re right; maybe it won’t happen to you.” All three of Krael’s skulls shook their heads sadly. “It’ll be unfortunate if you’re wrong.”
The Wither King Page 7