The Wither King

by Mark Cheverton

  “Come on, follow me.” Blaster held a torch over his head and dashed into another tunnel.

  The rest of the NPCs followed, each of them excited to see what this experiment would yield. They ran in silence, dashing through the corridor like tiny little drops of blood through stone arteries. As before, the tunnel was straight as a beam of light, never wavering to the left or right as it bored through the flesh of Minecraft. After what seemed like hours, a flickering light appeared at the end of the passage.

  But, just as before, the tunnel deposited the villagers into another circular black-and-white chamber.

  “Look … there’s Blaster’s TNT.” One of the villagers spotted the red-and-white striped cube floating off the ground.

  Blaster moved to the item and picked it up. He passed it from hand to hand as he glanced around at the other tunnels. Watcher moved to his side.

  “What are you thinking?” Watcher asked.

  “I’m thinking we’re in some trouble here.” Blaster pointed at the dark corridors. “I bet if you take any of those tunnels, they’ll lead you straight back to here. Kind of an infinite loop.”

  “Well, wizard,” Cutter boomed, “how are we gonna get out of here?”

  “Yeah,” another soldier said. “How do we escape the labyrinth?”

  “Watcher, we need a plan …”

  “Watcher, think of something …”

  “Watcher, use your magic …”

  The NPCs leveled question after question at Watcher, pleading with him to save them. Their voices overlapped with each other until they became a cacophony of words echoing throughout the chamber, and all Watcher could do was stand there and stare at the ground in hopeless despair. Soon, the questions became arguments as villagers debated what to do next. Some wanted to try tunneling out, but Watcher knew that wasn’t a viable solution; the wizards who had constructed the Labyrinth would have considered that. Some wanted to send someone through each tunnel at the same time; maybe one of them would escape. But then they couldn’t agree which tunnel each person would take.

  The arguments became more heated, with shouts turning into pushing, Planter and Cutter separating the angriest of villagers. Planter glared at Watcher multiple times during the chaos, her stares filled with venom. He knew she wanted him to do something, but what could he do? He had no magic, no plan, and no ideas.

  Watcher felt as if he were an audience member at some tragic play. He was witnessing his band of comrades fall apart right before his eyes … and it was all his fault.

  I’ve failed them all, he thought. I failed the most important person in the world, Planter. I failed my friends and doomed them to a long, merciless battle with starvation. I’m not a wizard … I’m nothing.

  With his hope gone, he moved to the far side of the chamber and sat down in front of the silvery, reflective wall, away from everyone else, and just waited for the inevitability of death to end his misery.

  The arguments surged like the weather in the Far Lands, at times a downpour of angry shouts and hurtful insults, but then the disagreements quieted to just a drizzle of hopeless whispers. Watcher felt every comment like daggers to his soul as he sat there. The sense of despair in the room was like a leaden sheet, pushing down on everyone with its relentless, hopeless weight.

  “I caused this,” Watcher whispered to himself. “This is all my fault.”

  He slowly raised his head and glanced at the shiny wall before him. He hadn’t really noticed it before, but the silvery wall was showing the reflection of the room. A large, dusty sign above the mirror held some menacing-looking words, but he couldn’t see it from so far away. Watcher stood and approached the mirror, staring up at the sign. There were only three words, but the thick lettering seemed to scream at him. It said, ‘Reflections never lie.’

  “‘Reflections never lie?’” He was confused.

  Moving closer, he looked into the mirror, searching for his likeness. At first, all he could see was the room and the other NPCs behind him. When Blaster’s reflection came into view, it didn’t look like the Blaster he’d known growing up. Instead, he looked like some kind of legendary warrior, tall, muscular and unafraid of any challenge. At the same time, though, he had a humorous and jovial face, with laughter streaming from his mouth.

  And then Cutter moved into view in the mirror. He too resembled some famous, legendary warrior, his arms and chest rippling with muscles. In the reflection, Cutter’s armor was completely gone, but in each hand, he held enchanted diamond swords, the blades slightly curved, their razor-sharp edges gleaming, making the need for armor nonexistent. The expression on his face was that of a seasoned fighter daring any enemy to attack and test his skill with the blades.

  Just then, Er-Lan moved into the mirror’s field of view, and Watcher was stunned by the monster’s appearance. An iridescent purple glow enveloped the zombie, the magical radiance pulsing, as if linked to his heartbeat, and a long red cloak with lavish gold stitching zigzagging across it hung down from his shoulders. Under the cape, he wore golden chain mail with blood-red gems attached, creating ornate designs across the chest and arms. It made for a brilliant, glimmering spectacle. Watcher was astounded; the zombie looked like what he imagined one of the great monster warlocks would have resembled.

  But then, Watcher noticed himself in the mirror. He too appeared tall and muscular, his towering form looming over the others in the image, with a puffed-up chest and chin held high. Bright stitching of gold and silver decorated his magnificent clothing, with the rarest emeralds and diamonds adorning his shirt and billowing sleeves. Everything about his appearance seemed glorious, except for one thing: he looked hollow inside. His exterior was not supported by anything within; it was just a façade, a fake covering to hide his true self, which lay hidden within the shadow of his empty core.

  The reflection turned and stared at Watcher, its eyes as dark as coal. The image pointed at him with a bent finger, as if accusing him of some crime or betrayal. And that’s how it felt. The fake-Watcher made the real-Watcher feel as if he’d betrayed all his friends by stranding them here in the Labyrinth.

  “Your arrogance did this,” fake-Watcher said. “You know you aren’t a real wizard; you’re just a kid with some magical toys. You’re no match for the Labyrinth. And now your self-importance has condemned your friends to a long and terrible death.”

  The image’s voice boomed within his mind, shattering any small confidence or hope still alive within. The words were like a hammer to his fragile, glass soul, cracking it into a million pieces, leaving his raw and vulnerable inner self with all its flaws and weaknesses exposed and staring him in the face.

  “No … I didn’t mean it.” Watcher fell to the floor as the terrible image seemed to be growing taller and somehow moving closer. He tried to scoot away, but his legs wouldn’t work.

  “Watcher … what’s wrong?” Planter rushed to his side.

  When she moved in front of the mirror, her reflection was like a beacon of iridescent purple light. Her long blond hair shimmered like fine gold strands, her emerald green eyes the rarest of gems. Planter’s image was complete beauty and perfection; it matched her real self exactly. But when her image turned to look at fake-Watcher, her face took on a pained expression. Fake-Watcher glared at wounded-Planter, then turned away, as if staring at someone else. A voice in the distance told fake-Watcher he was strong and handsome and powerful. It made his image puff up even bigger, while the look of sadness and heartache on wounded-Planter’s face almost brought tears to real-Watcher’s eyes.

  That’s what he’d done to her, he realized: he’d injured the girl he cared for just to get some petty compliments from Fencer.

  I’m pathetic, Watcher thought. I wanted to be important and respected and revered for my magic powers, but instead, I hurt Planter, the most important person in my life, with my selfish need to be something I’m not. How can she ever forgive me? Will she?

  He glanced up at the real Planter. “I never meant any of th
is to happen,” he whispered.

  “What are you talking about?” Planter asked.

  Watcher pointed at the mirror. She stared at the silvery wall, then turned back to Watcher.

  “There’s nothing there,” she said. “What do you see?”

  He turned back to the mirror. Fake-Watcher gazed at wounded-Planter, then began deflating, as if something had punctured his perfect, wizard-like skin. His image shriveled and collapsed, with his arms flailing about in the air as his body grew smaller and smaller. His face contorted, not with pain, but with embarrassment and shame, as he slowly became the same size as everyone else’s reflections.

  But the collapse continued.

  Fake-Watcher continued to shrink, his majestic clothes now too big for his body, hanging off his shoulders like a set of oversized curtains. The jewels embroidered on his shirt fell to the floor and shattered like pieces of old candy: the gems were as fake as everything else. His entire appearance in the silvery wall was a mirage, a disguise to hide his insecurities from his friends, he realized.

  For the first time in his life, Watcher had wanted to be important, someone to be looked up to and respected, instead of being the smallest and weakest person in the crowd. He had desired to be the one person everyone turned to in their darkest hour, but he’d failed them all with his pretense of being some great wizard. And now the realization of his true self was a blast of painful reality; he was just plain old Watcher with a bunch of magical toys that no longer worked.

  Reaching into his inventory, Watcher pulled out the Flail of Regrets. No voices whispered to him, no magic glow shone out, nothing; it was just a stick with a chain and a spiked ball at the end. Like himself, the weapon was ordinary and forgettable.

  He sighed as his image shriveled down to his normal size, until Fake-Watcher looked small and insignificant, just like real-Watcher.

  “I did this to everyone,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I listened to flattery and my ego instead of my friends.” He glanced up at Planter. “I should have been talking to the most important person in the world—you—instead of letting all those childlike compliments feed my hungry pride.”

  “Watcher, it’s not your fault,” she said. “You just—”

  “I just led everyone into the Labyrinth because I thought I was a great wizard, and I’d be able to get everyone out of here.” Watcher’s voice grew louder. “But the truth is, I’m nothing, and I can’t get anyone out.”

  “Don’t say that,” a voice said from the other side of the room. Fencer ran across the black-and-white floor and stood next to Watcher. “You can get us out; I know you can. You’re the greatest—”

  “Fencer, just stop.” Watcher held a hand into the air, then climbed wearily to his feet. “I was the cruelest to you. I know you have a crush on me. It’s likely because I gave you that Notch apple after you fell, so many months ago. It saved your life, which must have caused you to become attracted to me. I should have stopped it right away, but I didn’t, because I liked your constant flattery. But none of that is real, and praising someone just to get their attention is the wrong way to gain friends. You should just be yourself, and I should have been honest with you right away, but I was afraid.”

  “But Watcher,” the young girl protested, “you are the greatest wizard in the Far Lands, and I—”

  “No more of that.” Watcher stared straight into Fencer’s eyes. “I don’t mean to hurt you, but I’m with Planter, not you. I consider you my friend, but that’s all … I’m sorry.”

  “But … but I’m …”

  Watcher shook his head, then turned his back on her. Fencer stood there for a moment, stunned, then ran to the far side of the room and laid down on one of the beds, weeping softly.

  With a sigh, Watcher stared into Planter’s beautiful green eyes.

  “You were right. I should have been honest with her,” Watcher said to Planter. “And I should have been honest with you. I liked the compliments, but I know they were hollow and meaningless, just like me. I’m nothing without you.”

  Planter shook her head, an angry expression still on her face. “You think everything is okay now that you finally told Fencer the truth?”

  Watcher didn’t understand. This wasn’t going the way he thought it would.

  “I put up with being embarrassed in front of everyone because you wanted to feel important.” She put her hands on her hips, her unibrow furled. “I told you countless times to shut her down, but you didn’t listen to me. You made me feel insignificant whenever Fencer was spouting out her compliments, and now you think it will all just be erased because you finally did what you were supposed to do a long time ago?”

  “Well … um …”

  “If you think I’m just gonna rewind things and go back to the way it was, you’re mistaken. I need to know you’re serious about our relationship, and you’re serious about me. I won’t be taken for granted again.”

  “Of course not,” Watcher said. “I’d never take you for granted … not again.”

  “That’s right.” Planter took a step closer. “I’m not gonna give you a chance. You need to prove you can be trusted, for me to let you back into my life. I’m not like one of your enchanted wizard things that can be pulled out and used when needed, then just put away in your inventory. I’m a person who has feelings and needs to feel respected too. Until you can prove you’re serious about who you are and who you want to be, there is no us. There’s only you and me, separate.”

  Watcher let her words wrap around him like a thorny blanket. She was badly hurt; he could see it on her face.

  I don’t know why I didn’t see it before, Watcher thought. The pain I was causing Planter by ignoring how she was feeling, while at the same time encouraging Fencer, has been there all this time. He clenched his fists. I’m an idiot.

  The realization of his stupidity was like a gong resonating within his head. He glanced up at her again, but she just turned and walked off slowly, an expression of pained uncertainty on her square face. With a sigh, he looked at the rest of his friends. Some were still arguing about what to do, while others just sat on beds or chairs, defeated expressions on their faces.

  I was a fool with all of them as well. I should have realized my magic abilities are not as important as my own abilities and those of my friends.

  He noticed Blaster staring at him. For the first time ever, Watcher saw fear in Blaster’s eyes, something he thought he’d never see.

  We might have been able to get past this challenge if we’d made a plan and worked together. But instead, I just relied on my magic, which is now gone.

  Watcher stared down at his hands, hoping the iridescent glow would return, but they remained dark.

  But then something moved above the shiny mirror; a new sign appeared on the wall, with letters not as dark and menacing as the ones before. Moving closer, Watcher read the words: ‘Only a true wizard can escape the Labyrinth.’

  Watcher nodded. He hadn’t been truthful with his friends, and he was going to put an end to that right now.

  “Everyone, listen to me.” Watcher raised his hands over his head, clapping them together to get their attention. Slowly, the arguments ceased as all eyes turned toward him. “Look, I’ve been a fool. I let this wizard thing go to my head.”

  “You think?” Blaster said, the sarcastic smile absent.

  Watcher nodded and held up the Flail of Regrets. “I don’t know if I really have any magical powers or not, but these ancient relics I have … I want to tell you the truth about them.” He waited for questions, but instead, an uneasy silence filled the air. “I can hear voices, and they come from this weapon. There is some kind of living mind trapped inside the Flail of Regrets, and it speaks to me.”

  “What’s it saying now?” one of the villagers asked.

  “Nothing. All the magic is gone, just like with my sword, Needle, and these gauntlets.” He held his arms up for all to see. “I was playing the part of a wizard, but I’m not one
. All I have are these magical items and the Flail telling me what to do. I’m a fake. I’m just plain old Watcher, the kid that never fit in anywhere. I just wanted to tell you the truth, so there wouldn’t be any secrets between me and all of you.”

  Blaster pointed to Watcher’s hand and opened his mouth to say something.

  “Please, Blaster, no more funny remarks. Let me finish.” He took a deep breath. “Now, I know this looks hopeless, but we’re gonna get out of this Labyrinth somehow.” He stared at all his friends, their eyes still filled with hopelessness. “I’m tired of the king of the withers and his terrible zombie warriors destroying everything they touch. It’s time they were stopped!”

  Blaster drew his curved knives and nodded.

  “We’re gonna get out of here,” Watcher continued, “and we’re gonna get to the Cave of Slumber before they do, and then we’re gonna teach those monsters that they’re messing with the wrong villagers!”

  Cutter drew his diamond sword and slammed the hilt against his armor. It banged like a church bell, filling the chamber with sound. The looks of despair began to fade from the NPCs’ eyes.

  “It doesn’t matter if I really have any magic or not, because we don’t need magic to defeat our enemies. I don’t know why my magic disappeared and I don’t care. It was probably—”

  “But Watcher, you need to—”

  “Please, Blaster … let me say what I need to say.” Watcher gave Blaster an annoyed glance, then continued. “I’m no one special. I’m just the same as all of you, but I can still fight.” He held up the Flail, the spiked ball dangling from the end of the chain. “It’s true I have these weapons, and like the Bow of Destruction, only I can use them without being killed, since I am a descendent of a wizard, but that doesn’t mean we have to rely on the magic. We’re gonna stop those monsters … no matter what!”

  Cutter banged his sword against his chest again. Some of the other NPCs held their weapons above their heads, ready to take on Krael and his zombies.