by Jerome ASF
But Drooler’s problem now was that he had to do things all on his own. The zombies back at Gravehome couldn’t help him. The witches couldn’t help him. He had nobody left to manipulate. For once in his afterlife, he was going to have to fix things himself.
When the skeleton patrol passed out of sight, Drooler moved out of his hiding place and pressed even deeper into the skeleton-filled jungle….
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Bacca and Dug carefully walked down the corridor leading away from the auditorium. They reached a corner and rounded it, and began to see a dim light up ahead. A few hundred feet up the hallway was a room. Something was illuminating it from the inside.
“mmmmGlowstones,” said Dug. “Only they make that kind of light. Must be imported all the way from the Nether. How fancy.”
“Yeah,” said Bacca. “This fortress is clearly old, but the Nether is way older. And light from glowstones never goes out.”
Bacca and Dug walked toward the light until they reached an open doorway. The room beyond had a high ceiling with—sure enough—glowstones set into the corners, and a floor of plain cobblestone. Dominating the room was a large chair—with a tall, high back—made out of the darkest black obsidian. Seated on the throne was what appeared to be an obsidian skeleton. Upon closer inspection by Bacca and Dug, it was revealed to be only a statue of a skeleton. Except for the material, it was nearly identical to the ones that Bacca and Dug had crafted for their play in the previous chamber. Clearly they had done a good job.
“Whoever crafted this, we’re at least as good as they were,” Bacca said confidently.
Dug poked the obsidian skeleton to see if it would move. Much to his relief, it didn’t. It was just a sculpture.
At the top of the tall chair above the skeleton was a simple tablet of red sandstone. There was strange writing on the tablet. The letters looked like bones.
On the north wall—opposite the corridor where Bacca and Dug had entered the room—there was another door. Bacca ran his paw over it, and gave it a tap with his diamond axe. Just as he’d suspected, it was magically sealed. Nobody had opened it in a very long time.
There was a final, confusing element to the room: a few feet in front of the skeleton was a big pile of broken blocks and crafting components. Most of these blocks were—or had once been—sandstone. There were also bones, blocks of diamond, blocks of emerald, gold and iron ingots, and even pieces of armor. Bacca and Dug sifted through this pile of rubble, looking for clues. It had once been a structure of some kind, but had fallen apart a very long time ago.
“mmmmThis is a strange room,” Dug said, tossing a broken block of emerald back into the pile. “I wonder why this skeleton is sitting here looking at this pile of junk.”
“Agreed,” said Bacca. “It’s a mystery to me as well. I also wonder what we have to do to get that door to open. It’s clearly sealed by magic.”
“mmmmCould it want to see another play?” Dug suggested.
“That sounds too easy,” Bacca replied, scratching his furry chin as he thought.
“mmmmMaybe we should begin with that funny writing at the top of the skeleton’s chair,” Dug suggested, pointing over to the obsidian throne. “Can you read it?”
“Actually, I can,” Bacca said, approaching the seated figure. “My Ancient Skeleton isn’t what it used to be, but I think it says something like ‘Time Traveler.’”
“mmmmTime Traveler?” Dug said. “Really?”
Bacca nodded. That was what the bony letters spelled out. Or so it looked to Bacca.
“mmmmThat’s silly,” Dug said without hesitation. “Everybody knows you can’t travel through time. If you could, then you go back in time and save the life of the person you used to be before you became a zombie. So then you wouldn’t ever become a zombie. But then you couldn’t go back in time and save yourself. And so … and so … after that, it gets pretty darn confusing.”
Bacca laughed.
“I agree with you,” he said. “But I think to solve this puzzle we’ve got to keep an open mind.”
Something occurred to Dug.
“mmmmYou don’t think that this pile of stuff on the ground … used to be some kind of time machine?!” Dug sputtered.
“No,” said Bacca. “I mean … probably not.”
Dug looked even more confused.
“ … but why don’t we see if the Tablet of Mystery has anything to say,” Bacca quickly finished.
They took the strange tablet out of Bacca’s inventory and began scanning it for clues. They carefully checked on both sides, turning it over and over, again and again, hunting for anything that looked like it could be related to the obsidian chair or time travel.
“mmmmI don’t see a time machine,” Dug said. “Though maybe that’s because I don’t know what one looks like.”
Bacca nodded. He had seen many things in his adventures across the Overworld, but a time machine wasn’t one of them.
“mmmmBut look at this,” Dug said, suddenly interested in an image in one corner of the tablet. “That thing with little slashes on top of an ‘L’ could be a skeleton sitting in a chair.”
Bacca looked closely at where Dug was pointing. If he squinted his eyes and turned his head to the side, he had to admit … the ancient etchings kind of did look like the reclining obsidian skeleton.
“You might have something here, Dug,” Bacca said.
“mmmmSo if that’s the skeleton, then what’s this?” Dug asked, pointing to the spot on the tablet just in front of the reclining bones. “It looks like a tiny house. Or hut. Or … or …”
“A booth,” Bacca said knowingly.
“mmmmYes,” Dug agreed, nodding. “I suppose it could be a little booth, too.”
Bacca was suddenly one hundred percent certain.
“I’ve heard of these things,” Bacca explained. “Apparently, many years ago, ancient skeletons used to build little booths everywhere. There haven’t been any for a long time, though. Skeleton architecture styles have totally changed.”
“mmmmWere they like toll booths?” Dug asked. “Where you have to pay money to walk down a road? I’ve seen those before. They’re really simple. Just a tiny square house with a window. Any beginner could craft one. But why would skeletons have toll booths?”
“I don’t think they were for collecting money,” Bacca answered. “I suspect they were a way for skeletons to quickly duck out of the sun. Skeletons could use them in emergencies if they lost track of time and suddenly the sun came up. This was before they invented living in temples.”
“mmmmThat makes sense,” Dug said thoughtfully. “I’ve heard that my own ancestors—ancient zombies—did some strange things too. But we don’t talk about them in public. The skeletons could find out.”
“So here’s an idea,” Bacca said. “What if our job is to build the skeleton booth out of the heap of stuff on the floor? What if our bony friend is a time traveler because our doing this will let him go back in time—because he’ll be seeing things the way they used to be?”
“mmmmThat’s a good idea,” said Dug.
“Yeah …” said Bacca, suddenly becoming more cautious. “The problem is that neither of us has ever seen an ancient skeleton booth. Probably no living crafter has. So we’re going to have to hope we’re very good at guessing.”
Bacca and Dug began through the pile of crafting materials. Most of the sandstone was still salvageable. Bacca and Dug began working with these blocks first, using them to create sandstone slabs and smooth sandstone.
“From what I’ve heard, these skeleton booths were small and circular,” Bacca told Dug. “They weren’t too high, either. Not much taller than a skeleton.”
It wasn’t much to work from, but based on this description, Dug got started crafting. He thought about what kind of booth a skeleton would find useful if dawn snuck up. The booth would have to have an entrance that was easy to see, he decided, so Dug used the decorative emerald, gold, and diamond blocks to frame the do
orway clearly. He made the walls out of sandstone and gave it a simple, flat roof. This used up most of the crafting materials from the pile, but there were still a few old pieces of armor scattered around. It was all different types of armor, and none of it could be combined to form a matching set. Dug placed these bits of armor inside the booth like they were decorations. (Bacca also did not have a better idea for where they should go.)
When he was done, Dug stepped back from his creation and took a look. So did Bacca.
“mmmmSo …” Dug began, “does it look like a skeleton booth from back in ancient times?”
“I mean … I think it does,” Bacca said. “At least, it looks like it could be one.”
“mmmmThen the door should open and allow us to pass through, right?” Dug said. “Like, right about … now?” Bacca could tell Dug was growing impatient. The door in question had not budged even an inch.
The crafters waited and watched. Nothing happened.
“Did we do something wrong?” Bacca wondered. “I know we’re guessing, but I think this was a really good guess.”
Both crafters paced around the room, trying to figure out what to do next. Both considered the possibility that they had missed a clue … but what? They searched high and low for anything else that might tell them how to proceed.
Then Dug said: “mmmmWait a minute. I just thought of something. This obsidian skeleton was crafted back when the Fortress of Confusion was built, right? Back in the day, when there were still ancient skeleton booths.”
“Yes,” Bacca said. “This fortress was built many thousands of years ago. That’s what the Skeleton King told us.”
“mmmmWell why would it be ‘time traveling’ for this obsidian skeleton to see something that was already around when he was? It wouldn’t.”
Bacca thought that Dug had a valid point.
“mmmmWhat if instead of travelling backwards in time, this skeleton wants to travel forward?”
Bacca saw where Dug was going, and liked it.
“So, instead of showing him something from the days of ancient skeletons—his own time—we should show him what skeleton temples look like today?” said Bacca.
“mmmmYes,” Dug said. “For him, that would be the distant future.”
This plan made a lot of sense to Bacca. The crafting materials that skeletons used over the ages had never really changed, they had just been used to craft different things. Like temples. Skeleton styles had evolved, but the crafting components hadn’t.
“Okay,” Bacca said, “we can totally do this. We’re going to be a little tight on materials, but that’s okay. Something tells me we can still make it work.”
Bacca and Dug carefully took their booth apart and started all over again, from scratch. They built a large square floor for the temple, then used the remaining blocks to form a pyramid that gradually rose out of the base. Because they had so few sandstone blocks, Bacca and Dug could only make one small central room. Into this room they placed the remaining emerald and diamond blocks, as well as the strange assortment of armor.
“mmmmIf I saw this out in a jungle somewhere, I’d say it was the smallest skeleton temple of all time,” Dug observed as they put the final block in place.
“I would too,” Bacca said. “But it would still count as a skeleton temple. I think that’s the important part.”
Bacca and Dug took several steps back from their creation, so that the time traveler could have an unobstructed view. Bacca had no idea if the jet-black figure on the throne was “alive” in any sense, or just a tool of the fortress. What had the Skeleton King said about the fortress itself being aware? Thinking about that made Bacca feel just a little creeped-out and scared. Because of this, he jumped when a loud and sudden grinding sound began to emanate from the wall behind them. Bacca and Dug turned around and saw the magically-sealed door opening under its own power.
“mmmmWe did it!” shouted Dug, leaping a foot into the air. “I’m jumping for joy.”
“Yes we did,” Bacca said. “Incidentally, that’s why I was jumping too. The joy.”
Bacca and Dug gathered their crafting tools and prepared to head to whatever might be beyond the newly-opened doorway.
“I’m glad that you thought of time traveling forward in time,” Bacca said. “Nicely done.”
“mmmmI think it was just beginner’s luck,” Dug said humbly.
“I don’t know about that,” Bacca said. “Keep up the good work, kid.”
Leaving the strange obsidian skeleton behind, they passed through the doorway, and into a new place where an even greater challenge waited.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Skeleton King had dealt with his share of memorable crises over the years. A critical shortage of arrows. Unexpected aggression from a horde of angry cave spiders. And, now, an unprovoked attack by the zombies from Gravehome.
As king, it was his responsibility to solve each and every problem that happened under his rule. Having been at the job for many years, the king had learned that problems like these were typically solved with obvious solutions. Opening up arrow stockpiles and cracking down on arrow-hoarding. Making sure cave spiders understood the difference between mine shafts and skeleton temples. These solutions had always worked.
But this new problem with the zombies … The more he tried to fix it, the more complicated it got. And now—somehow—all hope for resolving it peacefully rested on a hairy crafter and his young zombie student.
Given all the weird things that were happening, the Skeleton King was not really that surprised when his man-at-arms barged into the throne room with a confused look on his skull.
“Yes?” chattered the king.
“Your highness, we’ve captured a zombie,” said the man-at-arms. “Some of our soldiers caught him trying to sneak inside this temple.”
“Sneaking in here?” the king asked. “For what purpose? Doesn’t he know there’s a truce? Was he aggressive? Was he armed?”
“No,” said the man-at-arms. “Nothing like that. When we asked why he was here, he said he wanted to talk to you.”
For a moment, the king felt hopeful.
“Is he an emissary from Gravehome?” the Skeleton King asked.
Perhaps the zombies had sent someone to negotiate an end to the fighting. For a moment, the Skeleton King dared to dream.
“No,” the man-at-arms answered. “He says he came on his own.”
The king slumped back into his throne. At any other time, he would have sent a zombie like this—who was obviously crazy—away without a second thought. But these were not other times. These were crazy times. These were times that called for extreme measures. Like seeing what visiting zombies—even ones who had not bothered to make an appointment—had to say.
“Send him in,” said the Skeleton King.
“Your highness … are you serious?” said the man-at-arms. “We only thought we should tell you about him because we thought you might have some preference as to the way he was executed.”
“That won’t be necessary,” said the king. “Just bring him to me.”
Astounded, the man-at-arms left and returned with three skeleton soldiers marching in a triangle. In the center of the triangle was a very unhappy looking zombie in diamond armor. The skeletons had tied his arms with ropes. Each of the skeleton soldiers kept one hand on its bow, ready to draw and fire if the zombie made any wrong moves.
The man-at-arms signaled to the zombie that he should approach the king. The zombie walked up slowly, his eyes scanning the corners of the room, hoping to see a friendly face but finding none.
“A zombie risking almost certain death by sneaking into this temple … to talk to me?” said the king. “Now I really have seen everything. So, what do you have to ask me, Mister Zombie?”
“MmmmDrooler is my name, actually,” the zombie said. “And I have something important to tell you. It’s a matter of state secrecy. It’s top-secret. Top-top-secret. So secret in fact that I don’t think I should te
ll you where other people can hear.”
His arms were tied, so Drooler used his feet to gesture toward the soldiers and the man-at-arms.
“Very well,” said the king. “Man-at-arms, you and your men please step to the far side of the room, out of earshot. If this zombie makes one false move—or acts aggressive in the slightest—please shoot him in the back as quickly as you can.”
“With pleasure,” said the man-at-arms, nocking an arrow in his bow.
Drooler let out a nervous “gulp.”
When the other skeletons had moved away, the Skeleton King whispered, “Drooler … I have heard that name before. Bacca believes you were the one who started this war in the first place. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t tell my guards to fire their arrows right now.”
“mmmmSomething even more horrible is about to happen … if it hasn’t happened already,” said Drooler.
“More horrible than an unnecessary war?” the Skeleton King said skeptically. “What in the Overworld could that be?”
Drooler nervously looked left and right, as if afraid the crevasses in the blocks around him might hear the next thing he had to say.
“mmmmThe Spirit of the Taiga,” said Drooler with a tremor in his voice.
“Oh?” the Skeleton King said, sounding relieved. “Is that all? I know the Spirit of the Taiga. Giant wolfy fellow. Likes to receive gifts. Also likes to eat people, as I recall. Consequently, he doesn’t receive many gifts.”
“mmmmWell, let’s just say that he received a gift he really, really likes from some witches,” said Drooler, careful to omit the fact that he had been the one to deliver said gift. “The Spirit of the Taiga liked his gift so much, he’s agreed to do a favor for the witches. A favor that will be very bad for us.”