The Wither King

by Mark Cheverton

  “I agree,” Cutter said. “We take advantage of Watcher’s … what’d you call them?”

  “They’re called the Gauntlets of Life,” Watcher said.

  “More like the Siphons of Life,” Planter added.

  Watcher sighed and glanced at her, but she looked away.

  “Who cares what they’re called?” Fencer said. “As long as they destroy monsters.”

  “That’s the first thing you’ve said that I like,” Blaster said.

  Fencer smiled.

  “Enough talk!” Watcher snapped. “It’s time to move. Mapper, lead us to the Cave of Slumber. We absolutely must be there before Krael and the Broken Eight. No doubt the wolves will head back to their masters, and then they’ll know we’re still alive.” He cast his gaze across their company. “This has just become a race, and being in second place could be fatal.” He glanced at Mapper. “Let’s go.”

  The old man pointed a little west of north, and Watcher took off running through the forest, the rest of his companions following.

  Krael floated across the desolate landscape, the hills of charred grass and groups of petrified trees a reminder of the epic battle that had once raged across this world … the wither king thought it was beautiful.

  Glancing over his ashen shoulder, the left skull checked on the Broken Eight; he didn’t trust the ancient zombie warriors.

  “They stopped,” Left said.

  The wither king stopped moving and floated up into the air in case there were any threats on the ground. He turned and glared down at the zombie warriors.

  “Why have you stopped?” Center asked. “We need to get to the Cave of Slumber before the wizard and his friends reach it.”

  “Wait … the direwolves return, but there is something wrong.” Ya-Sik moved to the other zombies and stood in line, their gold armor sparkling in the moonlight; they cast long shadows across the baked and lifeless ground as the moon slowly set behind the western horizon. Suddenly, the zombies’ animal-shaped helmets seemed to burst into flames as the rising sun shone its harsh rays upon the landscape.

  Two of the zombies suddenly slouched as if they had been somehow wounded or defeated.

  “What’s wrong with them?” Right asked, gesturing to the dejected warriors.

  “Some of the wolves do not return,” one of the zombie warriors said.

  “How can that be?” Center sounded angry. “They were told to harass the wizard, not have an all-out battle.”

  “I thought you zombies had some control over these wolves.” Left glared down at Ya-Sik.

  “The wolves can choose, just like every other living creature. They are not slaves, they are companions, and some have paid dearly for inflicting damage upon our enemy.” Ya-Sik’s eyes filled with rage as he glared back at the offending wither skull.

  The zombies turned toward the east and scanned the bleak terrain for the direwolves. With the sun rising, the reddish early morning light made the furry animals easy to spot.

  “The wolves are there.” Ra-Sik pointed with his golden short sword.

  The other zombies turned to look where their comrade indicated. In the distance, three direwolves appeared from behind an ashen hill of burned grass and charred trees. The once-majestic animals did not walk with their normal air of superiority. Instead, the furry white animals limped and grimaced, their fur ragged and scorched in places. They were soaked in sweat, and their HP was so low, they were near death.

  The zombies stepped forward and offered the wolves bones and pieces of meat to eliminate their hunger. Once sated, their HP began to regenerate, bringing them back to their majestic and ferocious state, their fur once more white as a fresh snowfall, something this landscape hadn’t seen for a few centuries.

  “They killed two of the direwolves; only three remain,” Tu-Sik growled, his creeper-head helmet seeming to glare along with the zombie up at the wither. “The wizard and villagers must be made to pay for this atrocity.”

  “Yes, yes, they will pay, but first we must find the Cave of Slumber and release my army. Think of the destruction that can be brought upon the wizard and his foolish friends when a hundred withers descend upon them.”

  Ya-Sik took a step toward the wither and drew his golden blade, the magical enchantment pulsing as if it were synchronized with the zombie’s heartbeat. “Revenge must be had now … not later. The Broken Eight demand restitution. The direwolves are linked to their zombie companions. Each of the Eight can feel the presence of their direwolf, and for one to be killed, it is like having a missing arm or leg; they are forever incomplete.” Ya-Sik turned and pointed at the other zombie warriors. “The boy-wizard and his companions must be destroyed … now! The Broken Eight will go and do this thing with or without Krael.” Ya-Sik took a step closer to Krael, causing the wither to float higher into the air. “After that, perhaps the Broken Eight will go back to the Far Lands and just leave the king of the withers to his slumbering army.”

  “No! I need your help. I can’t go into the Cave without falling asleep,” Krael said. “Only one of the Eight can do that.”

  “Then it would be best if Krael did as suggested, and help us attack the wizard and his friends.”

  Left scowled at the zombie, but Right gave him a sympathetic look. All three wither skulls could see the pain etched into the faces of the zombies who had lost their wolves. Center and Right felt for the monsters … Left, of course, didn’t care about anyone other than himself.

  Center sighed. “Very well. We will attack the wizard, though it would be easier if we had an army of withers at our backs. Who knows what kind of tricks the wizard might have?”

  “The Broken Eight will attack now,” the zombie commander said.

  “You mean the Broken Six,” Left said with a toothy grin.

  “Left, be quiet,” Center snapped, then brought his gaze back to the zombie. “Very well, we will attack. If your direwolves have regained their strength, have them lead us to the wizard. We’ll check their position, then formulate an attack plan. But let me be clear: we won’t attack until we have a viable plan.” Krael stared down at Ya-Sik. “Agreed?”

  The zombie nodded.

  “Very well. Tell your direwolves to head out. We’re hunting a wizard.”

  Watcher glanced nervously at Planter as he ran through the thinning forest. Her anger toward anything magical had wounded him deeply, driving spikes of fear into his heart.

  I might have lost her, he thought. What do I do? I can’t just decide not to have magic anymore … it’s part of who I am.

  Watcher stared at the ground as he ran. The rest of the company felt the uneasy tension between the two and remained silent, even Fencer. No one commented on the thinning of the forest or the thick, knee-high grass. Their legs swooshed through the verdant blades, the sound like a farmer’s scythe cutting through tall stalks of wheat.

  Most of the NPCs stayed close to Watcher; the iridescent glow from his arms making holes in the ground easier to spot, but Planter stayed conspicuously out of the lavender light. It was clear she wanted nothing to do with his magic. It made Watcher sad.

  The moon had risen and was casting a silvery light upon the landscape. Shadows from the tall blades of grass gave the world a striped appearance. At times, clusters of shadows resembled strangely shaped monsters that would have been unimaginable in the Far Lands … but in this world, anything seemed possible.

  Gradually, all of the trees disappeared, leaving a wide-open grassy plain.

  “This almost seems normal,” Blaster said as he put on his black leather armor. His body instantly merged with the darkness. “You’d think we were on the plains in the Far Lands.”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” Cutter said. “I wouldn’t mind coming across a horse or two.”

  “There’s something up ahead.” Watcher pointed to the dark horizon, his glowing arms casting enough light for the party to see.

  “What do you see?” Mapper asked.

  Watcher focused his att
ention on the horizon. “I see some tall columns of … something, but I can’t be sure what they are at this distance. They look really tall and really wide.”

  “Maybe they’re columns around the entrance to the Cave of Slumber,” Planter said.

  Mapper fumbled with his inventory, then pulled out his map. He held it close to Watcher’s shoulder, using the magical purple glow to get a better look. “No, it can’t be that. We’re too far from the Cave to see its entrance yet.”

  “Then what do you think it is?” Watcher asked. “Do you see anything on the map?”

  “It just shows a bunch of large dots, but there’s no name or description …” Mapper sounded perplexed. “I have no idea what it is.”

  “Great, an unknown structure, completely unlike anything we’ve ever seen, in the middle of the night, in a world ravaged by the magic of the NPC wizards and monster warlocks … do I have it right?” Blaster smiled, his shining teeth standing out in the darkness.

  “That sounds about right,” Watcher said.

  Blaster nodded, then drew his two curved knives. “Then let’s move faster and get this little surprise over with.”

  “I agree. Let’s do this!” Cutter yelled as he drew his diamond sword.

  The two NPCs shifted into a sprint, the rest of the villagers following suit. They moved as fast as they could, occasionally resting to refuel with a loaf of bread or piece of steak, keeping their hunger down and their HP up. After a couple of hours of running, the moon now past its zenith, they finally reached the strange-looking structures.

  All throughout the strange biome, huge cylinders of stone stuck up through the tall grass. They were a dozen blocks in diameter and probably thirty blocks tall, if not more. It was as if something had shot the stone columns up out of the ground, like nails through a thin piece of wood. Watcher saw caves dug into the bases of the structures, each dark and foreboding. Moonlight filled some of the caverns, revealing passages extending deep underground. Maybe it was his imagination, but Watcher thought he saw movement within some of them.

  “I’m not very excited about finding out what’s inside those caves,” he whispered.

  “Er-Lan agrees,” the zombie replied softly. “Perhaps it could be … oh no.”

  “What’s wrong?” Planter asked.

  “The Eight are near; Er-Lan can feel them.” The zombie glanced around at the dark caves and tall, rocky columns. “All must go quickly … now.” Er-Lan moved away faster than Watcher had ever seen, sprinting through the grass as if he had just drunk a potion of swiftness.

  They darted through the biome, weaving their way around the tall columns of stone. Er-Lan’s body parted the grass, his clawed feet easily trampling the tall blades and occasional shrubs. An expression of panic covered his scarred face as his eyes darted to the left and right, searching for their unseen pursuers.

  “Er-Lan, are you sure—the Broken Eight are—out there?” Watcher asked between strained breaths.

  “Er-Lan can feel them,” the zombie said. “They draw near.”

  “But how can you know that they’re—”

  A growl cut through the swishing of legs in the grass and the stomping of booted feet on the ground. It was a sound every one of the NPCs knew by now, as evidenced by the expressions of fear on their square faces.

  “Direwolves,” Er-Lan hissed.

  “Everyone, draw bows,” Watcher said in a loud voice.

  “Shhh …” Fencer whispered. “They’ll hear you and know where we are.”

  “They already know where we are,” Watcher said. “The question is … will they catch us before we reach the Cave?” He glanced at Mapper. “How much longer?”

  Mapper pulled out the map as he ran, then fumbled with it; the parchment came loose from his grasp and drifted into the air.

  Fortunately, Blaster was right behind the old man. He snatched the map out of the air and handed it back to him.

  “Here you go,” Blaster said with a smile.

  “Thanks.” Mapper looked embarrassed. He glanced down at the map, turned it so it was facing north, then glanced at their surroundings. “We should arrive at the Cave of Slumber by dawn.”

  Watcher glanced up at the moon, then checked the eastern horizon; it was still as dark as coal. “Dawn is a long way away.”

  Another angry howl cut through the air.

  “Seems like an eternity,” Blaster said, no smile on his face now.

  “Yep.” Watcher nodded.

  Just then, a set of glowing red eyes appeared in the darkness to the left. Watcher fired an arrow at the tiny points of light, but they quickly disappeared.

  “Everyone, watch our flanks,” Watcher said. “The direwolves are out there.”

  “This doesn’t seem right.” Planter took a breath and continued. “It seems like they’re driving us toward something.”

  “Yeah, I agree,” Cutter said.

  Watcher glanced at Planter, then suddenly knew what to do. “Planter, fire arrows up ahead. Let’s see what’s out there.”

  She nodded, then nocked an arrow and pulled back the string. When she released it, the arrow instantly burst into fiery life, the flaming shaft creating a halo of light as it streaked through the air. It landed on the ground up ahead, revealing more tall grass, though the stone cylinders were beginning to dwindle.

  “More arrows,” Watcher said.

  She fired again and again as they ran, the flaming arrows streaking through the dark sky like meteors from the heavens. They landed in the tall grass, the magical flames staying wrapped around the pointed shafts and not spreading to the grass. More and more of the landscape was revealed as they moved forward, but they still saw no zombie warriors.

  “More … more.”

  She fired continually, the Infinity enchantment making it impossible to run out of arrows. The shafts streaked through the air, revealing the same scene over and over, until the faintest flicker of gold appeared in the distance.

  “Everyone stop!” Watcher skidded to a stop and crouched down in the grass. “Watch our flanks and rear for wolves.”

  Warriors took up positions around their formation, scared eyes scanning the darkness for attackers.

  Watcher pulled out a fire arrow from his inventory and fitted it to his bow. He pulled the bowstring back as far as possible, then let loose. The arrow flew high into the air, making a graceful arc into the night sky, then came down to land in the grass right at the feet of a zombie warrior, a shimmering gold helmet in the shape of a dragon’s head on the monster’s head.

  “The Eight,” Er-Lan moaned, terrified.

  “They’re between us and the Cave of Slumber,” Mapper said. “They beat us here.”

  “We have to get past them somehow and block them from entering the Cave,” Watcher said.

  “That’s a great goal, but do you have an idea for how to do it?” Blaster asked.

  Watcher glanced at Planter and sighed. “Yeah … but none of you are gonna like it.”

  “It’s better than just standing here and waiting for them to attack us,” Cutter said.

  “So, what’s your plan?” Mapper asked.

  Watcher put away his bow, then glanced at his friends, a look of grim determination on his square face.

  “My idea is this: CHARGE!”

  Watcher sprinted straight for the monsters, yelling at the top of his lungs. The other NPCs, surprised for just an instant, all drew their swords and followed the young boy, their battle cries filling the air, while ahead the Broken Eight closed ranks, drew their enchanted swords and shields, and waited for their prey to come to them.

  Fury and rage filled Watcher’s mind as he streaked through the tall grass toward the line of zombies. The Broken Eight stood next to each other, the six ancient zombie warriors holding their spiked shields in their left hands and glowing iron short swords in their right. They looked menacing in their enchanted gold armor, each with a ferocious monster-head helmet staring at their attackers.

  Magical power
built within Watcher as his diamond boots hammered the ground. He could hear his friends behind him, but his attention was completely focused on his magic … and his targets. Gathering his powers, he held his arms before him. The Gauntlets of Life flashed bright, then threw bolts of purple lightning at the zombies, striking their shields.

  The soil and grass under Watcher’s feet grew cold as the ancient relic drew power from the ground beneath his feet. The dirt became rock hard as the blades of grass petrified into thin slivers of stone. The stony-grass cracked and shattered under the feet of his companions, sounding like broken glass.

  Watcher threw more bolts of lightning, focusing his power on the center of the line. The sparkling shafts of power crackled across the zombies’ bodies and shields, their faces grimacing in pain. He blasted them again and again, the Gauntlets forming large circles of stone around his feet. The energy slammed into the zombies, knocking two of them to the ground, while others staggered backwards.

  Watcher continued the assault as he drew closer, slamming his magic into the monsters at the center of the line. Arrows zipped through the air and struck the zombies, most of the shafts just bouncing off their armor, but a few slipped between gold plates and found green zombie-flesh.

  Finally, the center buckled and the zombies fell backward to the ground. Their comrades dragged the fallen away just as Watcher reached their lines.

  In a flash, he had the Flail of Regrets in his hand. He swung the enchanted weapon with all his might. The chain extended, reaching out to the closest zombie. The monster brought up his shield, but it already showed cracks from the earlier magical assault. The curved shield shattered, the spiked cube of the flail smashing into the creature’s chest, making the zombie flash red as it took damage. Watcher yanked the Flail free, then struck the zombie one more time. The spiked cube smashed into the monster’s helmet, making the zombie flash red as the last of the ancient creature’s HP was torn from its body. It fell to the ground, then disappeared as Watcher ran through the zombie ranks, the rest of his friends following.