Herobrine's War

by Mark Cheverton

  “Carver, get the people to the crafting chamber,” Gameknight said. “You understand me. Ghasts are attacking … get to the crafting chamber, get to the crafting chamber, get to the …”

  Carver became transparent again as he woke, no longer able to hear Gameknight. He pulled out his shining axe and stepped out of his house. Gameknight followed, unsure as to whether his warning had even registered to his friend in his groggy state. A feline cry floated down from overhead. It was an angry sound, as if some kind of cat-like baby was bemoaning its hatred for those on the ground.

  Gameknight watched as Carver surveyed the situation, then began shouting to the other villagers.

  “Get to the crafting chamber!” he screamed as he ran throughout the village.

  A fireball shot toward him. He turned just in time to bat it away. The burning sphere bounced off his axe and flew through the air, striking another ghast that was floating off to the left. The monster wailed in pain, then turned and faced the source of the attack. But Carver knew standing still was never a good idea in battle. He was already moving, running back along the cobblestone wall, searching for villagers to help.

  Those who survived were now gathering in the cobblestone watchtower. They flowed, one after another, down the ladder that led to the crafting chamber, which sat at least twenty layers under the surface, if not deeper. With that much stone and sand and dirt between them and the destructive ghasts, the NPCs would likely be safe.

  The storm of fireballs increased as more ghasts emerged from the glowing clouds, each with a malicious look on their pale, white face. Gameknight thought about his favorite bow, the one with Infinity, Power V, and Flame. Suddenly, it appeared in his hand. Drawing back an arrow, he fired at the closest monster, but, of course, his flaming arrow passed right through the beast; the ghasts were not in the Land of Dreams like he was. His weapons were useless against them.

  All Gameknight999 could do was watch in horror as the floating beasts flattened building after building. Suddenly, Carver ran out of the cobblestone watchtower. He dodged fireball after fireball as he shot into a small home engulfed in flames. Seconds later, he ran out with an elderly woman in his arms. Gameknight could tell the old woman was terribly ill and likely could not walk, with green spirals floating around her as if she had been poisoned.

  Carver ran through the village, weaving to the left and right, making himself a difficult target to hit. A fireball exploded nearby, singeing his left sleeve, but he did not pause to extinguish the smoldering fabric. Instead, he dashed for the door of the watchtower.

  Right behind him, a stream of fireballs crashed against the wooden door, blowing it to smithereens. Gameknight teleported to the watchtower and caught a glimpse of the stocky NPC dropping the woman into a hole in the corner of the building. Gameknight was shocked as she fell through the vertical shaft, but was relieved when he finally heard a splash at the bottom; they’d put water at the bottom of the passage to cushion her fall. Carver climbed down the tunnel just as another cluster of fireballs crashed into the watchtower, tearing a huge piece out of the side.

  Gameknight teleported to the top of the watchtower and surveyed the damage as more flaming spheres smashed into the bottom of the structure. The cobblestone wall at the front of the village was completely destroyed, though no monsters were taking advantage of the breach and pouring through the opening. Multiple buildings burned as bright tongues of flame licked up walls and across roofs, casting flickering orange light on the rest of the village. Explosions of fire dotted the surroundings as the attacks continued, each one punctuated with a baby-like cry or feline yowl.

  At least a dozen ghasts now floated overhead, looking for targets. When they saw all the villagers were gone, they took out their rage on the buildings themselves, burning everything that stood within the cobblestone walls. A fireball streaked straight toward Gameknight999. He knew he could not be hurt, but instinctively drew his diamond sword and tried to knock the flaming ball of fire away. Instead, it whooshed right through him, as if he wasn’t there, and smashed into the top of the watchtower behind Gameknight, destroying the stone bricks.

  Gameknight teleported to the ground, then moved to a large sand dune that stood outside the village. He watched as the ghasts destroyed every last building, then went to work on the fortified walls. The very ground where the village stood began to glow as the heat from the fires seeped into the stone and sand. The floating monsters left nothing standing, firing their balls of death at anything that still resembled the village that had once stood there.

  Teleporting to the crafting chamber deep underground, the User-that-is-not-a-user breathed a sigh of relief when he materialized in the large cavern. There he found villagers, shaken and scared, but alive. Some mourned the loss of loved ones, but nearly all of the NPCs had survived the attack … this time.

  Gameknight knew Herobrine’s poisoning of the ghasts had just put the villagers at a huge disadvantage; they had little defense against their fireballs. What would they do now? He shuddered as he realized the balance of power had now tipped to Herobrine’s side, and there was nothing the villagers could do about it, other than wait for the next attack to come from the sky. But where would Herobrine attack next?

  CHAPTER 8

  TO THE RESCUE

  Gameknight woke with a start, suddenly lurching as if he were falling. Sweat ran along his chest and arms and sides; his shirt under the leather armor was soaked. Sitting up, he leapt out of bed and looked upward, his heart pounding in his chest. He expected to see ghasts staring down at him with their evil white faces, but as he became more awake, he realized that he was still inside, a wooden ceiling over his head.

  Gathering his weapons and items from a chest, he ran out of the small wooden house, and stood next to the wall, pressing his back against the structure and staring up into the sky. It was dark, a myriad of stars sparkling down upon him through a clear, cloudless night.

  Gameknight suddenly realized he’d been holding his breath. He finally exhaled, and, stepping away from the wall, he moved out into the open, ready to dart away if attacked. Everything seemed peaceful and calm, but it had seemed that way at the desert village, too … right up until the ghasts invaded.

  Sprinting to the cobblestone watchtower, Gameknight flung open the door. He grabbed the rungs that led upward and climbed. Scaling the ladder as fast as he could, the User-that-is-not-a-user ascended to the top of the tower. When he stepped onto the roof, Gameknight999 surveyed the surroundings.

  He gave a sigh of relief. In the moonlight, he could see the savanna desert was completely devoid of monsters and the sky was empty, save for the millions of sparkling stars that peered down upon the land. There was no danger nearby.

  Glancing down at the village that surrounded him, the User-that-is-not-a-user realized that this village was just as vulnerable as Carver’s, and was the closest one to Dragon’s Teeth.

  “How long until the ghasts are here?” Gameknight muttered. “It’s only a matter of time.”

  “What’d you say, Smithy?” a skinny young NPC said.

  Startled, he turned and found an NPC on the watchtower with him. He’d probably been there when Gameknight had reached the top, but he hadn’t noticed him.

  “You’re …”

  “Watcher, sir,” the young NPC said with a grimace, as if his name was some kind of embarrassment.

  The youth held a bow in his hand, an arrow notched. Gameknight could see he held it with practiced care, balancing it between his thumb and index finger instead of grabbing it with his whole hand; he held it like Hunter would, like a true archer.

  “Have you seen anything funny going on out there in the savanna?” Gameknight asked.

  Watcher shook his head, his long blond hair swinging back and forth across his face.

  “Nope, it’s quiet out there, that’s for sure,” the villager replied.

  “Not for long,” Gameknight said in a low voice, then moved to the ladder and went back to the grou
nd.

  Throwing the door to the watchtower open, he ran through the village, looking for Fencer. After the celebration, and mourning, people had opened their homes to the visitors, offering beds to let the exhausted warriors sleep. But there had been more people than beds, and the homes were not big enough to hold everyone. To solve this problem, beds had been set up all throughout the village, along the fortified walls, near the fields, around the central well … anywhere there was room.

  Gameknight knew Fencer would likely have been the last to stop celebrating, and would probably not be in a house. So he ran through the village, checking all the beds that lay under the stars, finding tired warriors stretched out in each, but not the one he was looking for. Glancing to the east, the User-that-is-not-a-user noticed the sky was beginning to glow a deep red, then slowly faded to an orange, the sun almost ready to peek up over the horizon. Gradually, the curtain of night was pulled back as small groups of villagers woke, ready to greet the day.

  Sprinting toward the front gates, Gameknight finally found Fencer in a cot near the fortified wall.

  “Fencer, get up!” Gameknight shouted. “Everyone, get up!”

  “What is it?” the balding NPC said, the gray circle of hair around his ever-expanding scalp almost glowing in the crimson light of dawn.

  “Carver’s desert village … it’s been destroyed!” the User-that-is-not-a-user exclaimed.

  “What?!” Fencer said, sitting up quickly. “How do you know this?”

  “I was able to see it in the Land of Dreams.”

  “What are you talking about?” Fencer asked. “Are you telling me you had a dream and that’s what you’re excited about?”

  “It’s more complicated than that,” Gameknight tried to explain, but Fencer was already laying back down on his bed, going back to sleep.

  “Weaver … I need to find Weaver and Carpenter,” he muttered to himself.

  Dashing through the village, he hunted for the two NPCs, shouting out their names as loud as he could. Something terrible had happened in the desert, and he didn’t care whom he woke. Finally, they emerged from buildings to see what all the commotion was about.

  “Weaver, the ghasts have destroyed Carver’s village in the desert.”

  “What?!” the young boy exclaimed.

  He turned toward Carpenter, and noticed that the tall, skinny NPC looked confused.

  “I saw it in the Land of Dreams,” Gameknight said. “The ghasts destroyed the village, but I was able to warn them. They went into the crafting chamber and survived, but their village is gone. I’m going out into the desert to bring them back here. We must get the village ready for an attack from the air … from ghasts. We need buckets of water and …” He went through a litany of things they needed to do before he returned. “No doubt this village will be targeted next,” Gameknight said.

  Now Fencer was up again and approaching. Gameknight turned to him.

  “The village must be prepared for an aerial assault,” the User-that-is-not-a-user explained. “These cobblestone walls will do nothing. They didn’t help Carver and the desert village, and they won’t help here, either. Get everyone ready. Carpenter knows what to do.”

  He turned and faced the tall villager.

  “Carpenter, it’s vital the diggers get working on a chamber underground. That’s the only chance everyone has in case the battle doesn’t go well. We don’t know where the ghasts will strike, so we must hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.”

  “Understood,” Carpenter said. “We’ll be ready.”

  Gameknight gave him a nod, then ran the gates.

  “Ahh … Smithy, where are you going?” Fencer asked.

  “I’m heading back into the desert. Carver and the others need help.”

  “We’re going to lead them back here,” Weaver said as he moved to Gameknight’s side.

  “Oink,” Wilbur confirmed.

  “Well, you aren’t going alone,” Fencer replied.

  “I need you here to help get everything prepared,” Gameknight explained.

  “Then I’ll send some soldiers with you,” Fencer said.

  “Okay. I’ll wait five minutes, then I’m leaving.”

  Fencer ran off, collecting warriors from all across the village. In three minutes, he returned with two dozen soldiers. Gameknight checked everyone’s inventories, making sure they all had plenty of arrows. When he finished the inspection, the User-that-is-not-a-user found the Oracle and four of her light-crafters standing nearby, ready to accompany him.

  “What are you doing?” he asked the old woman.

  “We’re going with you,” the Oracle said in a scratchy voice. “This has the touch of that evil virus, Herobrine, all over it. I’m the anti-virus. We’re going with you.”

  The Oracle had been sent into Minecraft after someone in the physical world, probably the developer of Minecraft, Notch, had detected the presence of the virus, Herobrine. To balance things out and make Minecraft stable, an anti-virus program had been added to Minecraft’s software, but when it arrived, it had been “awakened,” like all the villagers, and become alive. That anti-virus program was the Oracle, and her tools in the software battle with Herobrine were her light-crafters.

  “Are you sure you’re up to going back out there into the desert?” Gameknight asked. “We’ll have to move fast, and it’s gonna be difficult.”

  The Oracle took a step closer to Gameknight999, a scowl etched on her square, wrinkled face. It seemed as if she grew taller, somehow.

  “Just because I look like an old woman, that doesn’t mean I’m frail,” she said in a scratchy voice. “You of all people should know it’s not wise to judge people only by their appearance.”

  The User-that-is-not-a-user took a step back and lowered his head.

  “You’re right,” he replied.

  Other than Fencer, the Oracle was the only person who knew he was posing as Smithy, and was not really the blacksmith.

  “Sorry,” Gameknight added sheepishly.

  “It’s all right, child,” the Oracle said with a kind, grandmotherly smile that reminded Gameknight of his own grandmother, Gramma GG.

  Some of the other NPCs giggled at their leader’s discomfort. But when the Oracle cast her ancient gaze on them, they all fell silent.

  “Enough,” the Oracle snapped. “I, too, sensed what happened out there in the desert. We must not be delayed.”

  “Okay, everyone ready?” Gameknight asked. The warriors nodded their boxy heads. “The villagers out there need our help, and we’re going to give it. I’ll explain more on the way.”

  “SMITHY!” they shouted.

  “Then let’s go.”

  Gameknight reached out and opened the wooden doors set in the cobblestone wall, then ran out into the savanna, a line of armored NPCs following close behind. He wasn’t certain what Herobrine would try next, but thoughts of what might happen began to circle around in his head.

  What if there are ghasts waiting for us? Gameknight thought. What if the attack on the desert village was just a ploy to draw us out? What if he still has a zombie army somewhere out there? I have to come up with a plan on my own, again, and hope it doesn’t get everyone hurt … or worse.

  Focus on what you can do now, child, another thought said in his mind. “What-if’s” will only devour your courage, and we can’t have that, can we?

  Gameknight cast a glance to the Oracle who was running next to him, a knowing smile on her old and wrinkled face.

  “I forgot you can hear my thoughts,” the User-that-is-not-a-user said softly.

  She smiled.

  He nodded.

  I’ll focus on what we can do, Gameknight thought, and that’s finding our friends as quickly as possible.

  The Oracle smiled again as soft, soothing music filled the air; the music of Minecraft. Gameknight saw it made all the villagers relax a little, the tension and uncertainty of what they were about to do slipping silently from their minds.

  B
ut as they ran, a nagging fear that Gameknight could not identify nibbled at the back of his mind. He was forgetting something, and whatever it was, it was dangerous.

  CHAPTER 9

  GATHERING FORCES

  The sound of running water echoed across one side of the massive cavern, while the smell of ash and the constant sound of bubbling, molten stone filled the other. The sorrowful moans of decaying zombies and the clattering of skeleton bones added to the acoustics, creating a tapestry of sounds and smells that permeated the large subterranean enclosure.

  Herobrine walked through the cavern, his eyes glowing bright white with evil excitement, casting harsh spotlights of illumination wherever he gazed. Craters dotted every inch of the uneven floor; they were scars from the explosive creation of the zombie-town by his army of creepers. A single HP fountain threw a cascade of sparkling green embers into the air that arced gracefully, then fell to the rough ground again, feeding the zombies that stood under the emerald shower with rejuvenating HP.

  The Maker smiled.

  He knew the creepers had not joined his army just to be sacrificed, their explosive lives used only to carve out this hollow in the rocks. But that didn’t matter to Herobrine. The creepers, as with all of the monsters in the Overworld, were his to command, his to use, and his to discard—violently, if necessary. This large zombie-town, replete with a sparkling green HP fountain at the center, was necessary in his campaign against the villagers, and the creepers served their purpose. But now, Oxus, the king of the creepers, had taken his forces and gone into hiding somewhere in the Overworld. They were no longer willing to participate in this historic struggle. No matter. Herobrine knew he could do this without those child-like creepers and their arrogant king.

  Suddenly, an Enderman appeared before him, a mist of purple teleportation particles shrouding his identity. But as the lavender fog cleared, a dark red skin, like the color of dried blood, showed through the mist, as well as a pair of red eyes glowing bright.