“Fencer, I’ll be back as quickly as possible,” the User-that-is-not-a-user said. “Make sure the village is ready for any attack from Herobrine.”
“We’ll be ready, Smithy,” he replied with a grin.
Gameknight glanced at Weaver. The young NPC gave him a suspicious smile and waved, then knelt and patted Wilbur on the back. Turning, the User-that-is-not-a-user had an uneasy feeling about this expedition. He knew they had to find out what Herobrine was doing, but he still felt like they were walking into trouble, and there was nothing he could do about it.
CHAPTER 11
CREEPERS
Herobrine smiled an evil smile as he surveyed his territory. He stood atop the rocky spire spewing a wonderful flow of lava. The thick, molten stone oozed its way down the side of the mountain, filling the air with ash and acrid smoke; it smelled wonderful. Across from him, another mountaintop wept a stream of water that cascaded down its side, splitting into two separate waterfalls that crashed to the ground. The remaining two Teeth were bare, except for the snow that covered all the exposed flat surfaces near their peaks.
Below him, monsters approached the landmark from all directions. Zombies and skeletons shuffled in from the east, though not very many of them were coming now. Their eyes nervously shifted up to the sun overhead. The decaying zombies and rattling skeletons hated being out in the sunlight. Before Herobrine’s arrival to Minecraft, they would have burst into flames with exposure to sunlight, but the evil virus had modified the monsters’s code, making them impervious to the light of day; it was how he’d bonded them to him.
The monsters dragged their feet across the rough stone ground, their bodies clearly fatigued. They’d drained this biome of its monsters for the first battle with the blacksmith; few still remained out there in the wild. Those that were not part of that fateful conflict were now coming to Dragon’s Teeth from far away, answering Herobrine’s call. Giving off sorrowful moans, the zombies walked slowly across the rocky landscape, their arms extended out in front of them. Herobrine didn’t really understand why they had to put their arms out, as they looked silly doing it; it must have been something in their programming, for they all did it.
The skeletons were another matter. These pale, white creatures could control their arms while they walked, but they were unable to quiet the constant clattering of their bones as they rattled together. They all held a bow in their hands but were inherently poor shots. Herobrine hoped that Skeletonbrine, the shadow-crafter responsible for improving the skeletons, could help with that. He had made this a priority for Skeletonbrine, making sure the shadow-crafter understood his very existence depended upon his success.
Just then, a large group of creepers emerged from the birch forest to the south, as well as from the desert to the north. Oxus, the creeper king, had put out a call to his creepers, and the mottled green monsters were arriving in waves. The idiotic monsters had been nearly worthless in the first battle of the Great Zombie Invasion, failing to detonate on command. Now, Creeperbrine had guaranteed Herobrine that this problem could be solved. He hoped that his shadow-crafter was correct; he didn’t want to have to destroy him and make another if he failed, but he made it clear to the creature that he was willing to do so.
Mixed in with the creepers were the spiders that Shaikulud was gathering for her Maker. The fuzzy black arachnids had been difficult to see in the darkness of the night, their multiple bright red eyes the only thing visible as they moved. But now, in the full light of day, the shadowy monsters were easy to spot against the gray stone that made up the extreme hills biome.
Below, Herobrine could see the monster kings and queen gathering near the entrance to their underground hideaway. At the speed of thought, the shadowy Maker disappeared, then reappeared near his commanders.
“Oxus, you have done well bringing me these creepers, but there is still more to do,” Herobrine said.
“What is it that the Maker commands?” the creeper king asked.
“I have a plan for the creepers that may end this war quicker and save many monster lives.”
Oxus’s eyes grew bright at the sound of saving monster lives. “What are your orders?” he hissed, his body glowing bright as he spoke.
“You have served me well by bringing all of these creepers here to me,” Herobrine said. “But we still need more, and I fear you have exhausted the supply of creepers in this area.”
Oxus nodded his green head in agreement.
“Therefore, you are commanded to go far from here and bring even more of your creepers,” Herobrine continued. “I need hundreds of your brothers and sisters if we are to end this war and protect the lives of monsters, and no time can be spared. The monsters you have brought me will be put to use as necessary, but we cannot launch our final assault on the blacksmith without more. Is this understood?”
Oxus nodded again as blue and red sparks danced across his body, remnants from when Herobrine had created him.
“Go now, and do not return until you have collected your creeper army,” the evil virus commanded.
Oxus turned and scurried across the stone ground, his tiny pig-like green feet a blur as he headed off to the southeast in search of his kind.
Next, Herobrine turned to Shaikulud.
“What issss your command?” the spider queen said.
“I want a company of your spiders to patrol the birch forest to the south,” Herobrine said. “The surviving zombie said he encountered a group of villagers in that biome. I need your spiders to watch our southern border. We cannot let the blacksmith see what we are doing here. When we fall upon him and his pathetic villagers, the size of our army will be such a surprise that many of his NPCs will likely just die of fright.”
Erebus laughed, his red eyes glowing bright.
“Shaikulud, you will stay here while your sisters go forth,” Herobrine ordered. “I want you to collect more spiders for me. We need our numbers to be overwhelming, and your spiders are an important part of my army. With your new strength and power, compliments of Spiderbrine, your sisters will be more vicious than ever, but still we need greater numbers. You must bring me more monsters. Do you understand?”
“Yessss, Maker,” she hissed.
“Bring me the monsters that I need, and we will be victorious,” Herobrine added.
“The cave underground issss becoming crowded,” the spider queen pointed out. “We will need more room ssssoon.”
“Don’t worry about that,” her Maker said. “For now, all I need you to do is watch for the villagers and continue to command your spiders to come here, to Dragon’s Teeth.”
“I undersssstand, Maker,” Shaikulud said.
“Very good, now go!”
The spider closed her purple eyes for just an instant. Herobrine knew she was sending out psychic commands to her spiders. A group of the fuzzy monsters crawled out of the dark hole that sat between the Teeth of the Dragon, and moved to her, their wicked, curved claws clicking on the hard stone. When they drew near, the spider queen opened her angry purple eyes and nodded to Herobrine. Clicking their mandibles together excitedly, the tiny army of arachnids headed to the south, toward the birch forest that bordered the extreme hills biome, their multiple red eyes glowing with evil excitement.
CHAPTER 12
CARVER
According to Farmer, Dragon’s Teeth was on the other side of the Great Chasm, and few NPCs ever visited the place. Monsters were rumored to gather there, meaning it was not safe for villagers, but Farmer could remember going to it before the … Awakening. He knew it could only be reached by either heading north and going around the end of the Chasm, or heading southeast to go across the bridge and then approaching the Teeth from the south. Knowing that the birch forest sat at the end of the bridge, Gameknight chose the latter so they could stay under cover and hopefully remain unseen.
Carver, again, led the party through the desert toward the Midnight Bridge. The group moved across the sandy terrain in complete silence, except
for the slap of their leather armor and the thud of heavy boots on the dry ground. The perpetual east-to-west breeze made the occasional dried shrub rustle and shake, but little else moved in the desert. It was deathly quiet, and that made the NPCs nervous. As a precaution, Gameknight sent scouts out ahead to make sure there were no surprises waiting for them; he also sent a few to the rear, just to be sure nothing was following. Some of the NPCs rolled their eyes, thinking it was unnecessary, but Gameknight had learned many times over never to underestimate Herobrine and his thirst for violence.
Soon, the Great Chasm came into view. In the full light of the afternoon sun, it looked like an angry black slash in the pale landscape, but as they neared, Gameknight could see light at the bottom of the steep ravine. Lava poured out of numerous holes, lighting the floor with a bright orange glow. A few monsters moved about, which was strange; he’d expected to see more. They only spotted a couple of spiders and one lone zombie.
“That doesn’t make sense,” Gameknight said, his voice breaking the silence and easing the tension.
“What?” Fencer asked.
“There are almost no monsters down there,” Gameknight said. “They must be somewhere, and I’d feel a lot better knowing where they were.”
“You want more monsters?” Fencer said. “Smithy be crazy.”
The other villagers chuckled softly. Gameknight shrugged, then gave them a smile.
“Carver, how long have you lived in that desert village?” the User-that-is-not-a-user asked.
“Why do you assume I wasn’t born there?” the stocky NPC asked.
“I see a lot of sand around, but not very much wood to carve. It’s likely that the village doesn’t have a huge need for a carver. You see, I’ve learned that the environment seems to drive the kind of villagers that are born in a community. A desert village would need a lot of farmers for crops and builders for homes, but everything is made of sandstone, and there’s no wood in sight.”
Carver sighed and became very quiet. An uneasy silence spread through the other NPCs. They became very tense and cast cautious glances toward Carver, as if expecting him to explode in a rage.
“I’ve heard this a million times through my life. Why are you here, what do you do for the village, what good are you?” Carver growled, trying to keep his voice down, but anger and frustration were bubbling to the surface. “I have an axe for carving; it’s my prized possession, yet I have nothing to carve. All I ever wanted to do was carve with this axe. It is my purpose in life … I know it. But in the eyes of the village elders, I’m worthless and insignificant. All of the men in my family, my uncles, my dad, my brother … they are all bakers, except for me. I’m the misfit, the reject … the carver.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Gameknight said.
“It doesn’t matter. I’ve heard it all before,” Carver continued. “Instead of carving wood, which is the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do, I work in the village mines, smashing rocks with a pickaxe.”
“Being a miner is an honorable profession,” Gameknight said.
“I know,” Carver snapped, then cast his green eyes to the ground. “There is something out there that I must carve with my axe, but I cannot ever seem to find it, and because of that, I feel empty inside. I always keep my axe razor-sharp, just in case I find what I need, but I’ve never found the right piece of wood to use it on. In fact, I’ve never used the axe on any wood. Because of that, I can’t even chop down a tree. So not only am I not needed in the village, but I can’t even use my axe for something useful to help my fellow NPCs.” His head drooped as he shuffled his feet across the sand. “I’m nothing but an empty shell.”
“Carver, I know what you are feeling,” Gameknight said.
“How can you know how I am feeling? You’re the great Smithy, now Smithy of the Two-Swords. You have purpose coming out of your ears.”
“Yes, but it hasn’t always been like that,” Gameknight said as he moved next to the big NPC and lowered his voice. “There was a time when I struggled for acceptance and doubted my self-worth. I was depressed and questioned my value, and I believed everyone would be better off without me.”
“That’s a really inspiring pep-talk,” Carver said.
Gameknight smiled. “That would be something an old friend, Hunter, might say to me. You’d like her.”
Carver said nothing.
“What I learned from Hunter, and some of my other friends, is that as you go through life, you’ll always be looking for that thing that completes you, that resonates with your soul so profoundly that it makes you finally feel alive. And when you find that thing, you can’t even imagine how you ever lived without it.”
“Again, not a big help.”
Gameknight ignored him and continued.
“I found that for me, it was my friends. They completed me, and made me feel like I was part of a family,” Gameknight explained. “And I would do anything to help them, even fight in this crazy war against Herobrine. I’d do anything to make sure they were OK, and I wouldn’t quit until I was successful. I feel content that I finally found that thing that fills my soul, and I’m grateful every day for finding it.
“Everyone has that thing, that missing piece to your soul. You just have to be willing to keep looking for it, for if you give up, then you will always feel incomplete.”
Gameknight placed a hand on the big villager’s shoulder.
“Have faith, Carver. There are those around here that care about you and want to see you find that thing as much as you want to find it. Just don’t give up.”
Carver turned and looked at Gameknight, his deep, green eyes filled with a faint spark of hope. He nodded his head, then reached into his inventory and pulled out his axe, his hand sliding along its stout handle. Just then, one of the scouts returned.
“The Bridge … it’s just ahead,” he said. “We didn’t see any monsters about. Come on.”
The villagers started to run, following the scout. They curved their way around the tall, prickly green cactuses and jumped over the dried shrubs as the desert grew dark. The sun was just beginning to kiss the horizon, throwing splashes of color across the pale landscape. The last time they’d been here, it had been night. But this time, there was enough light to see the bridge ahead. It was awe-inspiring. Whoever had built this structure had put incredible detail into it, detail that had not been visible in the middle of the night. Tiny features, like Nether brick fencing along the edges of the tall columns and dark oak steps beneath the supports, added a meticulous touch that made it obviously the work of a building master.
They reached the near end of the bridge and moved across, just as the shadow of night touched the far side. The fifty warriors squeezed into the three-block wide pathway, moving across the long bridge as quickly as possible. But just as they reached the midpoint, a clicking sound, like that of a thousand crickets, filled the air ahead.
Gameknight came to a stop, drawing his sword.
“Spiders,” he whispered as Fencer drew his own blade as well and moved to his friend’s side.
Gameknight glanced behind at the other villagers. They had nervous expressions on their square faces, but they continued across the bridge, following closely as their leader moved forward cautiously across the second half of the structure.
The clicking sounds grew louder. Gameknight glanced around, looking for the source, but saw nothing. Suddenly, the sounds came from behind and were increasing in volume. Jolts of fear electrified his nerves as the User-that-is-not-a-user glanced back to the other side of the bridge. A group of spiders scurried over a sand dune like a deadly wave, congregating over the end, destroying any thought of retreat.
“Look, they’re up ahead as well,” Fencer said, pointing.
Gameknight turned back to the front, only to find another group of monsters clogging the other end of the bridge. Their red eyes glowed bright in the dimming light of dusk, but one of the creatures stood apart from the rest, one with an icy purple gaze.
“Shaikulud,” Gameknight hissed.
“What?” Carver asked.
“The spider queen,” he said, pointing with his sword. “She has us trapped.”
Carver said nothing, but gripped the handle of his sword as tightly as he could, a look of fear in his eyes. Gameknight glanced at the other soldiers around them and saw the same look: panic.
I’ve led them into a trap, Gameknight thought. What a stupid thing to do! The real Smithy would have never been so foolish. These villagers need a real leader.
Cold fingers of dread wrapped around his soul and squeezed, making him shudder as the reality of their impending defeat dawned on him.
The spiders began to move across the bridge, clicking their mandibles as they carefully approached. Fencer moved to the back of the army to face the monsters closing in from the rear, a grim look of determination etched into his square face.
Somehow, Gameknight needed to figure a way out of this trap or they would all be destroyed. The problem was, he was just as scared as the rest of them, and had no ideas. They couldn’t run, and they likely they wouldn’t be able to fight very well trapped in the middle of the bridge. All the User-that-is-not-a-user could think to do was stand there and wait for the inevitable.
CHAPTER 13
THE GREAT CHASM
The spiders charged forward, their multiple red eyes glowing bright in the darkness. Their bodies seemed to melt into the bridge as the setting sun drew the blanket of night across the heavens and their fuzzy abdomens blended in against the obsidian.
“Some of you, hold your position here and watch the spiders up ahead,” Gameknight said, gritting his teeth. “The rest, come with me and watch the monsters at the rear.”
He pushed his way through the warriors until he was standing at the back of the formation. With his two swords out, Gameknight was about to take a step forward when he noticed Carver at his side. The big NPC had an iron sword out and was waiting patiently, a grim look of determination on his square face. But as the monsters moved forward, some of them climbed up onto the sweeping curves of dark stone extending high into the air, the simulated cables of the bridge now giving the monsters access overhead.
Attack of the Shadow-Crafters Page 7