The Wither King

by Mark Cheverton

  “Not just unfortunate,” Right said. “It’ll be fatal to all those kids.”

  The three wither skulls lowered their gaze to the leafy rooftop below, as if praying. Slowly, Krael drifted back to the steps, then motioned for the zombies to follow him. The Broken Eight moved away from the group of monsters, who were now frothing with anger.

  “Time for us to leave, but first, we need to light the fuse.” Center smiled at Ya-Sik. “Send one of your direwolves around behind the villagers and have it destroy someone. Make sure the villager has time to yell out before they’re destroyed. Then return here, unseen.”

  The zombie nodded, then knelt next to his direwolf and whispered into the creature’s ear. The monster bared its teeth, then took off, silently loping through the darkness like the shadow of a ghost. Moments later, a scream pierced the forest roof, then grew silent.

  “Something killed Woodcutter!” an NPC shouted.

  “I bet it was the zombies!” another yelled.

  At the sound of the voices, the village’s zombies growled, slowly extending their claws. Nearby, skeletons notched arrows to bows as they formed ranks.

  Watching it all happen, Krael smiled. “I guess the village leader was right; racism and hatred are learned … and we just gave them their first lesson.” He laughed. “I’m sure they’ll do the rest of the teaching themselves.”

  The Broken Eight smiled, some chuckling.

  Suddenly, the village monsters charged at the NPC villagers, just as they were emerging from their homes with swords and shields in hand. The clashing of iron against claws rang out across the treetops, the wooshing of endermen adding to the sounds of battle.

  “You see, Ya-Sik, it’s much more satisfying to cause these fools to destroy themselves than it is to do it ourselves.” He smiled down at the zombie leader, then floated down the spiral staircase. “Likely, those runners will start the same fires of hatred in the other villages. This will be fun to watch.”

  “The king of the withers has taught the Broken Eight a great lesson,” Ya-Sik said, grinning. “Causing destruction through others can be more fun than doing it personally.”

  “Now you’re learning, Ya-Sik. Now you’re learning.” Krael nodded. “And I still have so much to teach you. We’ll cause great destruction together, you and I.”

  The zombie leader nodded as he descended the staircase.

  “Come, let us continue our journey,” Krael said. “Who knows how many other communities we can destroy with just a few words? But when we get to the ground, I want three of your zombies to head to the north-east. There is a structure called the Compass. I’m sure our friends will be there soon, and I’d like your zombies to give them a little greeting.”

  “That can be arranged.” Ya-Sik gave the wither a toothy smile.

  He pointed at three of the zombies. They descended quickly down the stairs with their direwolves following. When they reached the ground, they took off to the north-east while the rest of the party headed north toward the Creeper’s Teeth.

  Watcher moved through the landscape, amazed at what he was seeing. Oaks and pines and birch trees filled this forest, dotting the rolling hills with their tall magnificence, but there was something obviously different here. The trees were all bent and crooked, like the acacia trees of the savannah, but they weren’t in the savannah; they were in what seemed to be a typical forest biome. Somehow, the characteristics of the acacia trees had been transferred to the oaks, pines, and birches, making the entire forest feel as if it were moving, squirming to some unheard melody, and then frozen in place. It was both fantastic to see and disturbing at the same time.

  The sun’s harsh, pale face slowly emerged from behind the eastern horizon. Muted tones of red and orange washed across the sky, but there was a richness missing from it, as if much of the color had been sucked from the sky, just as it had been from the sun. The normally vibrant show in the sky was muted and pale and added a depressing feel to the environment. Somehow, this land, including even the sun, had been wounded in the past, and it still suffered.

  “This is the strangest place I’ve ever seen,” Mapper said softly. “Even the shrubs seem distorted.”

  The old man pointed to a cluster of plants. Instead of being a small pile of leaves, the blocks swirled upward in a spiral shape, slightly bent to the side, as if the wind were knocking them over.

  “I don’t think I like this place.” Planter pulled out her enchanted bow. “It gives me the creeps.”

  “It doesn’t bother me.” Fencer skipped along and caught up to Watcher, then matched him step for step. “I bet Watcher could put it back to the way it should be if he wanted to, couldn’t you?”

  “Well, I don’t know about that.” Watcher glanced at the young girl. She had such an expression of complete confidence that it made him feel … well … good inside. It was as if she really believed in him.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he saw countless NPCs rolling their eyes at the young girl’s comments. Fencer moved closer to him, forcing Watcher to try to move away and almost causing him to collide with a twisted and contorted birch tree. Watcher heard Blaster giggle and glared at him. The boy just smiled back at Watcher, apparently entertained by his predicament.

  “Looks like there’s a village ahead,” Planter said, her voice sounding annoyed.

  “I think we should go check it out.” Blaster put his dark green helmet on his head and dashed past Watcher and Fencer, still giggling.

  Planter zoomed past them without a glance; no laughter was coming from her.

  Watcher sighed as he watched Planter run with Blaster toward the village. She should be running with me, he thought, then glanced at Fencer. She gave him a huge grin, her confidence in him evident, as always, on her face. He knew he had to say something to Fencer, but it would crush the young girl, and he didn’t want to hurt her. Maybe if I just ignore her, she’ll go away, and then I can be with Planter again, without all this stress, he thought.

  Reaching down to his chest plate, Watcher adjusted his enchanted diamond armor, then ran after his friends, the rest of the army following suit behind him. He wove around trees and past shrubs, trying to put the plants between him and Fencer.

  Slowly, the wooden buildings of the village emerged from between the distorted trees. Watcher expected it to look like any other village, but was surprised when he got a good look at the structures. Like the forest, the buildings were warped and deformed, with walls sloped into bizarre shapes and roofs pitched at strange angles. It was as if a child had molded the homes out of clay, then pushed on the creations in random ways, leaving the village as misshapen as the trees that bordered the community.

  Watcher could feel the tension in their company. More NPCs drew weapons and shields as the strangeness of the village became clear.

  “What do you think the villagers will look like?” one of the soldiers asked hesitantly.

  “I hope they aren’t as warped as their houses,” another said, sounding nervous.

  Watcher nodded … he hoped the same thing as well.

  Up ahead, Planter and Blaster were at the center of the village, standing near the community’s well; the normally square structure was squashed and warped on one side. Stone bricks lined the courtyard; some of them cracked, while green moss covered others. Along the edges of the square, torches atop fenceposts flickered, still burning from the previous night. Homes of every shape and size bordered the square, their doors and windows facing the gathering place. Slowly, Watcher and the other NPCs gathered around the well, watching in all directions for the inhabitants to emerge.

  The moo of a cow floated out from the animal pens nearby, followed by the clucks of chickens and the bleating of sheep. Torches flickered into life within the bizarrely shaped wooden homes as the village slowly woke from its evening nap.

  An NPC stepped out of a home and spotted the visitors, then quickly ran off.

  Watcher sighed. “The NPC looked normal.” He glanced at his companions. “Fo
rtunately, he wasn’t distorted or twisted like the village or forest.”

  Many of the warriors lowered their weapons and relaxed; the expectation of mutant villagers charging out of their homes now thankfully erased.

  A group of villagers stepped out from a large structure that was twisted and bent to the side. The NPC at the front of the welcoming committee was old, with long gray hair that hung down past his shoulders. He wore a white smock with a gray stripe, marking him as the community’s cleric, just like Watcher’s father.

  “Welcome, friends. You do not need your weapons here.” The old villager and his companions held out their hands, showing they were unarmed.

  Watcher glanced at Blaster and Cutter. They nodded and put away their weapons as Watcher and the rest of the NPCs did the same.

  “I see you have a zombie with you,” the village leader said.

  “Yes, but you don’t need to be alarmed.” Watcher moved to the zombie’s side. “This is Er-Lan, and he is our friend. You need not be afraid of him.”

  “Afraid? Why would we be afraid?” the villager said.

  “Oh … well … great.” Watcher felt surprised by their reaction, but happy too. Some reacted poorly to Er-Lan’s presence; he was glad that wasn’t the case in this village.

  “My name is Cleric, and I am the leader of this community.” The villager extended a hand to Cutter.

  The big NPC shook hands with him, then glanced suspiciously at the other inhabitants of the warped village. They all stepped forward and shook hands with everyone in Watcher’s company, making the group relax even more.

  “We’ve never seen you in these parts,” Cleric said. “Where are you heading?”

  “Well, we’re looking for the Compass.” Watcher stepped forward and faced the old NPC. “But only have a vague idea where to go … north-east.”

  “That’s correct,” Cleric said. “Eventually, you’ll run across a road made of stone-bricks. Many of the blocks are probably missing, but you’ll still be able to see it if you—”

  “Monsters approaching,” Blaster warned, his voice loud enough for all to hear.

  The group drew their weapons as a group of zombies, skeletons and endermen approached from another cluster of twisted homes. Gripping his sword firmly, Watcher glanced at the village leader. “Don’t worry. There aren’t very many of them. We can take care of them.”

  “What are you talking about?!” Cleric pushed Watcher’s blade down, then grabbed Planter’s bow and pointed it to the ground. He ran throughout the courtyard, trying to take weapons from the NPCs’ hands, then finally moved toward the approaching monsters and stood in front of them, shielding the creatures with his own body. The monsters all had relaxed postures and pleasant smiles on their faces; they were not tense in any way. “These monsters live in our village. They are part of our community. Lower your weapons this instant!”

  A scowl came across the old man’s face, reminding Watcher of his own father. And then he noticed it: none of the zombies were extending their claws, none of the skeletons had fitted arrows to bowstrings, and the endermen’s hands were not balled into fists. These creatures were not coming to fight.

  “Everyone, lower your weapons.” Watcher slowly put Needle back into his inventory, but kept a hand near it in case he needed to get to the enchanted blade quickly. “Sorry, I guess we’re used to having monsters attack us.”

  “Well, that doesn’t happen here!” Cleric snapped. “In this world, the cycle of violence that started in the Great War has been stopped. We teach our young, villager or monster, that all creatures are equal and should be treated with respect. Hate and racism are no longer passed down from parent to child; that type of behavior is forbidden.”

  The old man finally lowered his arms and slowly approached the group, while the monsters, still nervous, held their position on the other side of the courtyard.

  “We’re sorry,” Planter said sincerely. “In our world, the monsters are always attacking villagers whenever they can.”

  “I don’t think I like your world very much.” Cleric shook his head as if he disapproved of all of them.

  “Look, we aren’t here to compare worlds.” Blaster stepped up to the village leader. “We’re here to find the Compass and stop the king of the withers. You already told us which way we need to go, so thanks and goodbye.”

  “Blaster … be nice,” Planter chided.

  “What? I’m just saying what we’re all thinking.” Blaster looked at his companions; many were nodding their heads. “We need to get moving before it gets—”

  “More monsters coming in,” Cutter whispered. “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

  A group of monsters, each clothed in greenish-brown garments, was approaching the village. Their clothing appeared to be woven from a thick, natural fiber Watcher had never seen before; it probably came from the trees, he guessed.

  “Those are just monsters from the Treetop village,” Cleric said. “Put down your weapons. All monsters are friendly here.” He scowled disapprovingly at the newcomers, glaring at them until they put away their swords.

  “Welcome, friends,” Cleric said as he approached the monsters, but as they entered the square, they veered away from the NPC and headed for the other monsters.

  “Everyone, get ready,” Watcher whispered.

  “What is it?” Planter asked.

  “Look at their faces.” Watcher gestured to the new monsters. “Those that just arrived don’t have smiles and relaxed expressions on their faces. They’re angry and looking for someone to pick on, or worse. I saw it hundreds of times from the bullies in the village.”

  “The new zombies have claws extended,” Er-Lan said. “These monsters come for violence.”

  The newly arrived creatures stood amongst the rest of the monsters, whispering. They glanced at Cleric and the rest of the villagers, then went back to their discussions.

  “Cleric, I think you had better come over here,” Watcher said in a calm voice, trying not to give away his concern.

  The monsters were raising their voices louder now. Some of the zombies snarled toward the villagers as more NPCs emerged from their homes and congregated in the square. At the same time, more monsters were emerging from their homes to see what was happening.

  “Everyone, stay calm,” Watcher whispered. “But keep your eyes open.”

  The monsters were now growling and becoming agitated. Watcher could see the creatures from the Treetop village were saying things to the other monsters, then pointing to the NPCs with clawed fingers. Some of the skeletons fitted arrows to bows.

  “Cleric, I think you have a problem here,” Blaster said.

  “No, I think the problem is you and your friends,” Cleric accused. “You came here with your weapons and suspicions, and now the monsters are getting upset.”

  “You see,” one of the endermen said, pointing with a dark finger. “He calls you monsters, as if you’re something unnatural. The villagers were never your friends; they’re your masters, because you are allowing them to do this to you.”

  “What a minute.” Cleric approached the monsters. “We have a peaceful community here, and talk like this will only—”

  Before Cleric could finish his statement, the monsters attacked. A dozen arrows struck the old NPC, instantly destroying him. He disappeared from sight with a look of surprise on his wrinkled face.

  “Monsters … attack!” one of the endermen screeched.

  Watcher drew Needle from his inventory and charged toward the monsters. He could hear the thundering footsteps of Cutter on one side, Blaster on the other. Flaming arrows zipped over his shoulder as Planter opened fire.

  Some of the village’s NPC inhabitants tried to intervene and protect the monsters, but they were quickly destroyed by zombie claws.

  “You don’t get it!” Watcher screamed as he attacked one of the endermen, the lanky creature teleporting away. “The Great War has begun again. The monsters are a threat to you.”

/>   The enderman chuckled and disappeared, only to reappear right behind Watcher. The boy, sensing its presence, spun and slashed at the monster’s legs, then lunged, scoring another hit before it could flee. The dark creature disappeared with a pop, leaving behind three balls of XP.

  The other members of Watcher’s company now stood shoulder to shoulder battling the monsters, the inhabitants of the village still trying to pull them away from the fighting. One of the NPC warriors, Builder, was injured, as a baker tried to keep him from attacking a skeleton with his sword. The skeleton’s arrow found a gap between Builder’s armored plates and struck the NPC in the shoulder.

  “Everyone, back up,” Watcher shouted.

  The NPCs moved away from the monsters, stopping the battle for just a moment.

  “You can’t do this,” one of the village leaders said. “These monsters are part of our community.”

  “Not anymore,” Blaster said. “They’re fighting the Great War, and you are their enemy, whether you like it or not.”

  “That’s not true,” the villager said defiantly. “All of you caused this violence by coming here. Now get out of our village … NOW!”

  “You don’t understand,” Watcher said. “If we leave, then the monsters will destroy everyone in this village unless you fight back.”

  “And I bet you don’t know how to do that,” Cutter added.

  “Do you have any weapons?” Planter asked.

  “We don’t need any weapons,” the villager snapped. “Weapons only bring violence. Now get out of our village, before we throw you out.”

  More of the community’s NPCs gathered together, their angry stares focused on Watcher and his friends, not the monsters. The biggest villagers stepped closer to Watcher and his friends, clearly threatening them. They had no weapons or armor, but seemed prepared to lift them off the ground and literally throw them from the village.