The Wither King

by Mark Cheverton

  “Don’t you understand? Something’s changed with the monsters of this world.” Watcher’s eyes were pleading with the NPCs. “They are no longer your friends. The Great War is somehow reignited, and—”

  Suddenly, the monsters charged, each one of them screaming their battle cry. The NPCs in the village held their hands out, showing they were unarmed, but the monsters just tore into them with their claws and fists and arrows. Many fell before Watcher and his companions could mount a defense.

  Forming a battleline, Watcher and his companions pushed the monsters back. Archers on the flanks fired at skeletons as the swordsmen charged into the center.

  Needle flashed through the air as Watcher dove into the battle. He could hear villagers behind him still objecting to the fighting, but their shouts turned to screams of pain as monsters slipped past the group’s formation and found them. With Cutter’s diamond blade on one side of him and Planter’s golden axe on the other, Watcher crashed through the enemy, slaying many. Some monsters fled the village, taking their hate with them, but when Watcher eventually turned to check on the other NPCs, he found none standing. Piles of items and glowing balls of XP marked where the unarmed villagers had fallen to monster claws, leaving the community unnaturally quiet. Watcher turned in a circle, looking for any other living creatures, but there were none.

  “It seems the Great War has begun anew,” Mapper said gravely as he handed out potions of healing to the wounded in their company.

  “Did we lose anyone?” Watcher asked, fearing the answer.

  “Nope, everyone is accounted for,” Fencer said. “You saved everyone.”

  Many of the NPCs grumbled in disbelief.

  “Look around you, Fencer. You see all those balls of XP?” Planter was furious.

  Fencer took a step back and nodded.

  “Those used to be villagers, just like you and me. Now they’re gone.”

  Fencer hung her head, tears trickling from her eyes.

  “Planter, she didn’t mean anything by it,” Watcher said, then immediately regretted coming to her aid.

  Planter flashed him a glare, then stormed off. “I’m checking the village for anything useful.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Mapper said, scurrying after her. “I bet there are some potions around here that might be handy to have. ‘Have a potion for every occasion,’ that’s what I always say.”

  They searched the village and found neither weapons nor armor, but they were able to stock up on potions of healing, leaping, and regeneration, as well as a good supply of food. With their inventories bulging, they left the village in complete silence. It felt to Watcher as if they were leaving a crime scene.

  And for some reason, he felt like the criminal.

  They walked through the twisted forest until noon, no one speaking a word. The incident at the village had been shocking, and though they had destroyed all the rebellious monsters, Watcher and all his companions regretted not saving the villagers. They all felt responsible, yet there seemed to be no way to help NPCs who wouldn’t help themselves.

  “I don’t understand what Krael hopes to gain by rekindling the Great War.” Watcher finally broke the silence, shaking his head as he tried to make sense of it.

  “Maybe he hoped he could slow us down,” Blaster said.

  Planter shook her head. “No, he did this for one reason, and only one reason … because he could.” She glanced at Watcher, then cast her gaze on Fencer, who was staring adoringly at the boy.

  “We need to find that wither and stop him once and for all!” Blaster instinctively drew his curved knives, then realized he was the only one with weapons in hand and put them back into his inventory.

  “Look, a brick path.” Mapper ran ahead, then stopped and stared at the ground.

  Watcher sprinted to his side and looked down. Stone bricks were embedded into the ground, their surfaces cracked and worn from age. “This must be the path.”

  Mapper nodded, then checked the position of the sun. “I think we should hurry. Being in this twisted forest at night seems like a bad idea.”

  “Yeah, I agree,” Watcher said, looking around. “Especially with the escalation of violence between monsters and villagers.”

  The rest of the NPCs gathered around Watcher and Mapper.

  “Who do you think made this path?” Builder asked.

  “Must have been constructed by the ancient wizards,” Mapper said. He kicked at one of the bricks, causing part of the block to flake off and crumble to dust.

  “They didn’t do a very good job,” Blaster said with a sarcastic smile. “It looks like it only lasted a couple of centuries.” He laughed, lightening the mood for everyone.

  “I’m sure Watcher could have built something better with his magical powers.” Fencer’s voice was filled with adulation. “His path would have lasted much longer than this one. After all, he is a great wizard, and …” she droned on, no one listening.

  Planter glared at Watcher as if demanding him to do something, fury in her eyes.

  What does she expect me to do? I can’t make it so Fencer can’t speak, Watcher thought. In response, he looked down at the ground.

  Planter sighed, then pushed back the villagers and stood directly in front of Fencer.

  “You know I’m standing right here, don’t you?” she asked the young girl.

  “Here it comes,” Blaster said slowly, then backed away. Taking his cue, the other NPCs did the same, except for Watcher.

  “What are you talking about?” Fencer asked.

  “You’re saying all these foolish things to Watcher, complimenting him on this and that. Don’t you think I know what you’re trying to do?” Planter put her fists on her hips and glared at the girl. “You followed us all the way from our village in the Wizard’s Tower just to be with him. And now I see you always chasing after him, trying to stand next to him, always brushing your hand against his and batting your eyes at him. I know what you’re trying to do, and it isn’t gonna work.”

  “Planter, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Fencer said. “I just think Watcher is awesome, and he can—”

  “You see … there you go again!” Planter’s face was beginning to turn red as her anger grew. “I won’t stand for it … I won’t.”

  Fencer now took a step back; she looked afraid of Planter.

  This is getting out of control; I have to stop this, Watcher thought.

  Moving between the girls, Watcher turned and faced Planter. “You know she doesn’t mean anything. Fencer is just a kid, and I think she was genuinely concerned about me when she followed us from the Wizard’s Tower.”

  Planter rolled her eyes.

  Watcher reached out and grasped Planter’s hand. “She doesn’t mean anything. This is no big deal, trust me.”

  Planter’s eyes narrowed as she glared at Watcher doubtfully. “I’m getting tired of this game Fencer’s playing,” she said in a low, venomous tone. “You better solve this problem, or I’m gonna solve it for you.”

  But before Watcher could answer, she yanked her hand from his, spun around, and walked down the stone path, with most of the villagers following. Watcher was left standing there, uncertain, with Fencer behind him. Blaster stood silently off to the side. When Watcher glanced at him, Blaster gave him a shrug.

  “This girlfriend-thing looks like a bit of a challenge.” His gaze flicked to Fencer, then back to Watcher, and he smiled. “Maybe getting an extra one wasn’t such a good idea?” Blaster laughed, then ran off, chasing the others.

  Fencer placed a hand on Watcher’s shoulder. “Thank you for rescuing me. Planter scares me sometimes.”

  “I didn’t rescue you!” Watcher snapped, then felt bad. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.” He turned and faced her. “You have nothing to fear from Planter. My girlfriend would never do anything to hurt another person, so don’t worry about it.”

  “You’re the best.” She smiled up at him with an almost reverent look in her eyes.


  Watcher sighed and shook his head, then turned and chased the others, Fencer beside him. He never saw the six sets of eyes staring at him from behind a leafy hedge, half of them glowing red and all of them filled with hate.

  Planter led the company along the brick path, Watcher staying far to the rear. The trail led them through the twisted forest, curving around distorted trees and past strangely shaped pools of discolored water. The farther north they went, the more distorted the trees and plants became, until they barely resembled anything close to a tree or bush. Thick trunks of oak and spruce curved and bent until they folded back upon themselves, burrowing the treetops into the ground as if they’d been crushed. The distortion to the land seemed to get worse with every step.

  “It’s like a storm blew through here, warping everything it touched,” Mapper said. “It makes me sad.”

  “Perhaps this was caused by the wizards,” Er-Lan suggested. “Powerful magic was used to make the Cave of Slumber. That magic may have spilled over into these lands, destroying the natural rules of the Overworld.” The zombie glanced back at Watcher. “No offense meant.”

  “None taken.” Watcher smiled. “That was done a little before my time.”

  “I’d say,” Cutter said. “About three hundred years before your time.”

  “Maybe more,” Mapper added. “No one is really certain when the Great War happened. The only thing known for sure is it happened after what people call the Awakening.”

  “Look, the forest is ending.” Planter pointed to the edge of the twisted forest biome.

  Watcher moved up to Planter’s side and stared out at the strange landscape. Before them, the ground sloped downward maybe twenty to thirty blocks, then extended in a massive recession. It seemed the land ahead of them had somehow sunken as if a giant had stepped on the rocky plane, causing it to sink below the level of the forest in which they stood.

  Stranger still, there were huge arcs of stone stretched high into the air, forming gigantic gray half-circles. The curves were of all different sizes, from those bending eight blocks into the air to some extending upward twenty blocks or more. All of the bowed structures were aligned to the north as if drawn there by some gargantuan magnet, the constant east-to-west wind passing through the stony loops. Some of the arcs gave off a low hum, the wind pushing relentlessly against the granite structures, driving them like thick guitar strings. Watcher felt the ground vibrate ever so slightly. It felt like distant thunder, barely audible.

  Beyond the strange, rocky structures was a huge wall of stone a dozen blocks high, if not more. It formed a curved barrier that wrapped around in a gigantic circle likely a hundred blocks in diameter. Within the center of the circle stood a lush forest, with green grass, tall oak trees dotted with bright apples, and the occasional pristine white birch tree mixed in.

  Wide openings were carved into the massive wall, each one at the points of the compass: north, south, east and west. A line of tall oak trees bordered each side of the path leading into each of the entrances, the trees completely leafless, as if they were dead, but still standing. The sickly oaks made everyone a little sad, for just within the curved wall, the land was brimming with life, but outside everything was dead.

  “Something terrible happened here.” Er-Lan moved to Mapper’s side and glanced at the old man. “The land is wounded.”

  “That seems to be a common theme in this world,” Mapper said. “The Great War was not kind to this plane of existence.”

  “Are wars ever kind?” the zombie asked. “Hatred has a way of demanding a high price, yet giving nothing in return.”

  Mapper nodded. “What’s that in the middle of the circular forest? I can’t see any features; it’s too dark.”

  Watcher took a few steps forward and stared out across the sunken landscape at the structure. At the very center of the perfect forest stood a tower made of midnight-black stone, totally out of place in the verdant woods. It looked to be more shadow than stone. Watcher instantly knew that it was their destination.

  “I’m not sure what it is. It looks like it’s more shadow than substance, but I think we found what we’ve been looking for.” Watcher nodded and glanced around at his companions. “Everyone, welcome to the Compass. I have no doubt; we need to go to that tower at the center.”

  “You mean the one that looks like it’s made of pure evil?” Blaster asked with a smile.

  “Yep.”

  Blaster patted Watcher on the back sarcastically. “This is gonna be fun.”

  Without waiting for anyone to move, Blaster ran down the slope, heading for the strange rocky arcs, the rest of the party following behind him.

  Watcher ran next to Er-Lan. The zombie was seemingly very disturbed by the place.

  “You okay?”

  The zombie nodded. “Many lives were lost in this place. Er-Lan can feel it.”

  They ran through the center of a small stone arc. The ground vibrated from the hum of the structure, causing tiny bits of gravel and dust to dance about on the ground.

  “Great and terrible magic spells were used here, devouring many; the appetite of war is likely still not satisfied.” Er-Lan glanced at his friend. “By the looks of this world, much of it has been damaged by the magic of the wizards and warlocks.”

  “Yeah.” Watcher nodded solemnly. “Fortunately, these battles of magic happened here and not in our Far Lands.”

  “Fortunate for Watcher’s and Er-Lan’s ancestors, perhaps,” the zombie said. “But not very fortunate for those that lived here.”

  Watcher said nothing, the truth in his friend’s words striking at him like a hammer. He was only thinking of his people, in his homeland of the Far Lands; he didn’t consider all the people that probably suffered here. He felt ashamed.

  They ran through a larger stone ring. The hum of the structure sounded like a deep growl from some ancient titanic beast; it made the ground shake, but also leaked into Watcher himself. He could feel his body vibrating with the thick, stony ring, as if he was becoming part of the structure; it was strange … and disturbing.

  “There’s the entrance!” Planter shouted, pointing to the line of dead oaks.

  The trees were aligned right next to each other along the sides of the path with hardly any space between their trunks, creating a wooden wall. Planter pulled out her enchanted axe as she entered the woody passage. She glanced over her shoulder at Watcher, an expression of fear on her beautiful face. Watcher sprinted forward, reaching her side. He pulled out the Flail of Regrets and ran in lockstep with his girlfriend.

  “Watcher, wait for me,” Fencer shouted behind them.

  Planter scowled, then sprinted ahead. At the same time, Blaster zipped past him, with Builder at the boy’s side. They ran along the edges of the tree-lined avenue. But when they reached the entrance to the lush forest, they skidded to a stop, and Blaster drew his curved knives while Builder pulled out an iron sword and shield.

  “The Eight,” Er-Lan moaned. “The Eight are here.”

  Watcher glanced over his shoulder to his green friend, then raced to Blaster’s side. Planter was already there, her axe held at the ready, the magical enchantments running through the weapon painting the ground with an iridescent purple glow.

  “What’s wrong?” Watcher asked. “Why’d you stop?”

  Blaster glanced at him, then pointed with one of his knives.

  Trees choked the green space within the curved walls, their snake-like roots crawling from the base of the oaks, then plunging into the dark soil. Between the oaks stood three zombies, each wearing magical gold armor, with helmets like the heads of different monsters: an enderman, an evoker, and a wolf.

  Er-Lan moved next to Watcher and moaned with fear. “The Eight are here.”

  “I only see three of them.” Watcher glanced at his friend. “Are there more here?”

  “Three is enough for what they came to do,” Er-Lan whimpered.

  The rest of the party entered the edge of the pristine forest, thei
r weapons drawn and ready. They completely outnumbered the three magical zombies, yet the trio of monsters seemed unconcerned. A sense of anger and vile malice surrounded each of the ancient zombies, their snarling faces were scarred from countless battles. The three monsters glared at Watcher, expressions of complete and absolute hatred on their terrifying faces.

  “Let us pass and you will … not be harmed.” Watcher tried to fill his voice with confidence, but it cracked with fear.

  The zombie with a wolf helmet smiled a toothy grin, then drew a golden sword from his inventory and banged it against his shining chest plate, the metallic coating ringing like a gong. Instantly, a deep, growling sound filled the tree-lined passage behind the group. Glancing over his shoulder, Watcher spotted three gigantic wolves as they blocked the exit from the wooded passage, their fur bristling, their glowing red eyes filled with a thirst for violence.

  “The wither king, Krael, sends his regards,” the zombie warrior said, his voice, like the expression on the creature’s face, full of hatred for their very existence. He pointed his razor-sharp sword at Watcher, then shouted a single word; it was deep-throated and guttural, as if growled by some ancient beast, the word filled with malevolence and a promise of pain:

  “ATTACK!”

  The zombies and direwolves charged, gold swords and sharp teeth gleaming under the afternoon sun.

  Watcher pulled the Flail of Regrets from his inventory and swung it over his head, putting every ounce of strength he had into the enchanted weapon. His arms glowed bright, the magic coursing through his veins flowing into the Flail and making it stronger. He ducked under one of the zombies’ swords, then smashed the creature in the chest. Its enchanted golden armor made a sickening crunch as the spikes on the end of the Flail pierced the metallic coating and found soft flesh.

  The creature screamed out in pain. Another zombie came to his aid, smashing into Watcher with a thick, curved shield. Sharp, pointed barbs across the shield’s shimmering surface stabbed into Watcher’s diamond armor, digging into the crystalline surface. Rolling across the ground, he swung his Flail at the creature’s legs, knocking the monster to the ground.