Bones of Doom

by Mark Cheverton

  The NPC nodded and moved back, but kept his knives out and ready.

  “How did you know to come here to look for relics?” Cleric asked, his aged voice sounding calm and wise.

  “The warlord was given the locations by a wither … the wither king,” the skeleton said.

  “The wither king?” Watcher was confused. “I thought we destroyed that monster.”

  “There is a new wither king. I don’t remember his name, but he wears the Crown of Skulls. I saw it.” The skeleton took his gaze from Blaster and focused it on Watcher. His eyes went to the young boy’s reddish hair and an expression of surprise came across his face.

  “What is it?” Mapper pushed through the crowd and stood next to Watcher. “What did you just notice about our young friend here?”

  The old man put an arm around Watcher’s shoulders. At the same time, Blaster took a step forward again. A look of fear came across the skeleton’s bony face.

  “The hair … it was just the hair … it’s red.” The skeleton seemed terrified, but not because of Blaster or his knives; rather, it was because of Watcher.

  “What about his hair?” Blaster asked.

  “The ancient wizards, they all had red hair and were great shots with a bow.” The skeleton pointed a finger at Watcher. “He is a descendant. He is a wizard. The monsters of the Far Lands all know to fear the wizards, for they will bring back the Great War to the Far Lands and try to destroy all monsters.”

  “I’m not a wizard,” Watcher said, confused. “I’m just me.”

  “He was able to use the Mantle of Command to destroy the last wither king,” Mapper said. “It was the enchanted armor from the zombie warlord. The relic was made to be used only by monsters, yet Watcher was able to use it.”

  “And my sword, Needle.” Planter turned and looked at Watcher with an expression of astonishment on her beautiful face. “Once he touched it, no one else could use it. It was like the sword recognized him, somehow.”

  “Interesting …” Mapper stepped back and cradled his chin in his wrinkled palm, lost in thought.

  “The wizards must be stopped,” the skeleton whispered, his voice barely audible.

  The monster suddenly grabbed Blaster’s wrist. At the same time, he struck Blaster with his knee, right in the boy’s stomach. Blaster fell back, releasing his grip on the knife. Moving faster than anyone thought possible, the skeleton raised the knife and brought it down toward Watcher in a killing blow.

  Er-Lan leaped forward. The zombie blocked the attack with an arm, then tore into the monster with his razor-sharp claws. Surprised, the skeleton turned his dark eyes toward the zombie, but Er-Lan didn’t stop. He continued to slash at the monster, taking his HP to zero in just seconds. The skeleton disappeared, a look of confusion and fear on his bony face.

  Blaster’s knife clattered to the floor.

  “Er-Lan, you did it again!” Planter said and put her arms around the zombie again.

  This time, the decaying creature did not blush, he just stared down at the three glowing balls of XP and the pile of skeleton bones that lay on the ground.

  “The skeleton is gone.” The zombie’s voice was filled with sadness. “He was there and now he’s gone. Er-Lan destroyed him.”

  “That’s right!” Cutter slapped the zombie on the back. “You acted fast and now that skeleton is no more. Great work!”

  The zombie looked up at Cutter with tears in his eyes, then turned and shuffled off into the darkness to be alone.

  “What’s with him?” Blaster asked.

  “I think that was his first time in battle,” Cleric said. “Destroying another living thing takes a toll on one’s soul. I’m not sure Er-Lan was ready for that.”

  “Well, at least that skeleton is gone.” Blaster picked up his knife and put it back in his inventory. “What about the things the skeleton told us?”

  “He thought I was one of the wizards because of my hair and skill with a bow.” Watcher paced back and forth, lost in thought. “The skeleton near the oak trees looked at me the same way. He saw me shoot and destroy those escaping skeletons; I bet he thinks I’m a wizard as well.”

  “Our prisoner was willing to trade his life to destroy Watcher,” Mapper said. “How do you think the skeleton warlord will react to this news?”

  Watcher looked up at the old man. “He’ll send his entire army here to try and destroy me. Our village will be leveled to the ground and everything in the library will be his.”

  “Don’t worry about the library,” Winger said. “We took some of the stone-bricks and sealed off the passage. You can’t even tell there’s anything there. It looks like a dead end.”

  “That’s great, but that doesn’t help everyone in the village.” Planter pulled out the small, golden axe they’d found in the linked ender chest. She passed it from hand to hand as the magical weapon pulsed with energy.

  “You’re right. Those skeletons are gonna destroy everything around here.” Watcher turned to Cutter. “We need to evacuate the village before the skeleton warlord gets here with his army. If we can’t convince the rest of the village to leave, it’ll be a massacre.”

  “Don’t worry.” Cutter moved to Watcher’s side and gazed down at the boy. “I’ll ask everyone nicely, and then I’ll ask not-so-nicely. They’ll evacuate if they know what’s good for them.”

  “Then it’s a plan,” Cleric said. “We’ll explain this to the village; it will make it easier on them. Besides, when a new journey in life is started, it’s always best to start it with friends.”

  “You’re full of all kinds of warm and fuzzy thoughts … aren’t you?” Blaster said.

  “That’s my thing.” Cleric smiled.

  Blaster rolled his eyes, then headed out of the Wizard’s Tower with the others close behind. Last to leave was Watcher. He peered into the darkness and found Er-Lan, then guided the zombie toward the stairs.

  “I know what you did for me was hard, Er-Lan, but you saved my life again.”

  “But this time, it cost the life of another. That does not sit well with Er-Lan.”

  Watcher sighed. “I understand, and I’m sorry you were put in this position. It’s my hope you’ll never have to do that again.”

  “Er-Lan hopes Watcher speaks the truth.” The zombie turned and shuffled through the passage and toward the exit.

  As his friend shuffled away, Watcher had the strangest feeling that everything was about to change, and not for the better. Chills slithered down his spine as a strange sensation filled his entire being. Somehow, Watcher could sense that something dangerous was hunting them. And if that unseen adversary caught them, he was sure many of his friends would perish. The young boy shook with fear, glancing at the shadowy passage around him. Then, as quickly as the sensation appeared, it was gone, and he was alone in the Wizard’s Tower, terrified.

  Quickly, he ran for the exit, all the while glancing over his shoulder, looking for that invisible predator.

  CHAPTER 6

  Captain Ratlan and the surviving members of his company ran across the countryside without stopping. Everything was a blur as they sprinted through forests, then swamps, and through deserts. It took days and their HP dropped dangerously low. When necessary, Ratlan stopped to hunt for food, shooting cows and pigs so he and his companions could feast on their bones, for that’s what skeletons ate: bones. When one of their party fell, the doomed skeleton’s HP exhausted, the rest of the party consumed their comrade, sharing stories about the deceased’s bravery; it was the skeleton way. Every one of them knew this was the way of the world; a skeleton’s death frequently fed his own family.

  Finally, Captain Ratlan slowed as an extreme hills biome came into sight.

  “Skeletons, we’re almost there.” Ratlan slapped one of his comrades on the back.

  “I see the Triplets.” One of the monsters pointed to a group of steep mountains. There were three tall peaks spaced close together, each topped with a frosting of snow. “I can almost hear the won
derful echoes of the Hall of Pillars.” The monster closed his eyes for a moment and smiled.

  “Come on, let’s get to the Leap of Faith.” Captain Ratlan smiled at his fellow skeletons. “I miss our home.”

  He ran through the stream that marked the boundary of the extreme hills biome. Following a trail that was well known to all skeletons, they headed for the trio of mountains. The path took them past smaller hills, with multiple trails joining the main path, then led them to the side of a hill, a dark passage carved through the very center of the mound. They could go around, but would lose valuable time. With their bows in their hands and arrows notched, they moved into the darkness.

  “Watch for spiders and zombies,” Ratlan warned in a low voice. “Since the destruction of the zombie warlord, the other monsters have been more aggressive. We must be careful.”

  The other skeletons nodded, then notched arrows to bowstrings. They moved through the dark passage, following the ancient path through the mountain that would eventually take them home. Fortunately, there were no other monsters in the tunnel. They moved out of the darkness and back into the late afternoon light.

  Weaving around the occasional oak and spruce tree, Ratlan was grateful to be out of the tunnel and into the open, where their bows could be more effective; confined spaces were something all skeletons hated. As he ran, the skeleton smelled something burning and smiled. Ash began to fill the air, dimming the rays of the sun as the glowing square slowly approached the horizon.

  We’re getting closer, the captain thought with a smile.

  They came to a deep crevasse, the bottom of which was filled with lava. Smoke and ash floated into the air, creating a subtle gray haze. As they ran, their steps created tiny little clouds of ash that circled around their feet, obscuring the occasional tuft of grass or shrub.

  The roar of falling water filled the air. Ratlan smiled and glanced up; a waterfall cascaded down the side of one of the mountains in the Triplets, the cold liquid crashing into the crevasse and mixing with the lava. Steam billowed up from the collision of hot and cold at the bottom of the ravine, causing the ash to become sticky, like a gray ooze that coated everything nearby.

  Right near the waterfall, the crevasse narrowed to a gap only two blocks wide. The skeletons ran straight for that point and leapt across the chasm with practiced ease. They followed the trail along a curving path, moving around smaller hills until they reached a point between the tree tallest peaks … the Triplets. The trail ended at a wide pit, cloaked in darkness.

  Captain Ratlan stared down into the hole. No features were visible in the darkness, just an inky blackness waiting to swallow those foolish enough to enter the abyss. It was as if the opening extended all the way through Minecraft and into the dark void.

  “I always wonder why the sunlight is never able to penetrate the Leap of Faith,” one of the skeletons asked, pointing into the darkness.

  “It’s said the ancient skeleton warlock, Ragnar, cast a spell on it, keeping out the sunlight,” Ratlan explained. “Now, only those that know the path can make it through the Leap of Faith without falling to their deaths. During the Great War, the NPCs were heading for the Hall of Pillars. Ragnar the Tormentor cast his spell on this entrance, protecting the skeleton people from the atrocities of the NPCs. This magical opening still protects our people from attack.”

  The captain moved to the edge and jumped on the lone block of stone. “You all remember the path … right?”

  The skeletons nodded.

  “Then let’s go home.”

  Ratlan turned to the right and leapt into the darkness. His feet landed on a stone block, the magical darkness now embracing both stone and skeleton. Continuing through the ancient parkour course, the captain jumped from block to block, following the invisible trail that was taught to every skeleton born in the Hall of Pillars. In minutes, he’d reached the bottom. Standing before him was a large, cylindrical tunnel lit with redstone lanterns running along the ceiling, their glow barely strong enough to illuminate the wide passage.

  Captain Ratlan waited for the rest of his troops, then ran through the passage. It bored straight through the flesh of the Far Lands, making a gentle curve as it descended deeper and deeper underground.

  Shadowy recesses in the walls caught the monster’s eye. Ratlan knew bony surprises awaited anyone foolish enough to enter the tunnel uninvited. He smiled and waved to his brothers and sisters he knew were hiding in the shadows, ready for any invasion.

  Finally, the passage ended, opening into the historic Hall of Pillars, built hundreds of years ago, before the Great War. The skeletons gazed in wonder at the amazing view. Tall columns of quartz, each with embedded redstone lanterns, stretched up to the ceiling, which was impossibly high and lost in the darkness high overhead. The white pillars stood out in stark contrast to the stone-brick floor, each equally spaced from their neighbors, creating a grid-like array of columns stretching across the chamber.

  “Come on, we must give the skeleton warlord our news.” Ratlan sprinted into the chamber, his footsteps echoing off the ancient floor. The echoes from their bony feet filled the Hall, letting the monsters on the other end know someone was approaching. As they neared, ghostly shapes emerged from the haze of Minecraft; hundreds of skeletons, each with arrows drawn back, waited for the intruders. When they saw it was their comrades, the defenders lowered their weapons.

  “I must speak to the warlord, immediately,” the captain yelled.

  “Bring him to me,” a scratchy voice said from the far end of the Hall.

  Ratlan pushed through the skeletons until he finally reached the far end of the huge room. A large throne, built from fossilized bone and redstone blocks, sat against the wall. Redstone lanterns embedded in the floor cast a warm yellow glow around the structure, pushing back the darkness. Sitting on the throne was the skeleton warlord, Rakir. In his hands he held the most fantastic bow Ratlan had ever seen. The weapon glowed with magical enchantments, but more interesting was its construction: the bow wasn’t made of wood like every other bow wielded by the skeleton army; instead, it was crafted from enchanted, fossilized bone.

  Captain Ratlan instantly went to one knee and bowed before his commander. “Warlord, I believe a descendant of the wizards has been spotted.”

  “What?!” Rakir instantly stood and stepped forward. “Stand up, you fool, and tell me what you saw.”

  “We went to the location given to us by the king of the withers, and—”

  “I gave you that location,” the warlord snapped. “Only Rakir commands the skeletons. That idiotic wither, Krael, told me of the tower’s location, and I decided it was worthy of our inspection.”

  “Yes, sire.” Ratlan lowered his head, trying to avoid his commander’s wrath.

  “Well … what did you find there?”

  “We found nothing. The scouts were all destroyed.”

  “So, there could be weapons there in that ancient tower; we still don’t know.” Rakir glanced at his general, Rusak, then back to the captain.

  “There was something more important than weapons, my warlord,” Captain Ratlan said.

  “More important than weapons?” Rusak boomed.

  Ratlan cowered, knowing of the general’s lethal temper. “As my scouts were leaving, they were fired upon by a young NPC archer. He hit the scouts from an impossible distance using an enchanted bow. His skill was incredible.”

  “That means nothing,” Rakir said, his voice harsh and grating. He stood and paced back and forth, his impatience growing. “Just because he was a good shot, it doesn’t mean he’s–”

  “He had red hair as well,” Captain Ratlan said.

  “What?” Rakir stopped pacing and moved to stand directly in front of the skeleton.

  “He had red hair and wielded his bow better than anyone I’d ever seen.”

  The skeleton warlord’s eyes grew wide with surprise, and then he scowled.

  “Well … except for Rakir, of course.” The skeleton captai
n reached up and wiped his sweating brow.

  “So, you think this was a descendant of the ancient NPC wizards?” the warlord asked.

  “That’s the only explanation. He hit my skeletons from thirty blocks away while they were jumping from block to block. Only a wizard could do that.”

  “Interesting … interesting indeed.” Rakir turned and motioned for another skeleton to step forward.

  General Rusak stepped out of the shadows and moved to his warlord’s side, his iron armor clanking as he walked.

  “General Rusak, did you hear what the captain said?” The warlord gazed up at the huge skeleton.

  “Yes,” the general replied. “I heard and am concerned. We cannot let the wizards regain their power. They probably know the locations of all the ancient relics. When they get those weapons, they’re certain to attack the skeleton nation. We must protect ourselves.” The huge skeleton moved closer and lowered his voice to but a whisper. “The Great War is not over.”

  “Exactly.” Rakir nodded his bony head, then pulled his enchanted bow from his inventory. “With the Fossil Bow of Destruction, built by the great skeleton warlock, Ragnar, himself, we will capture more relics and grow stronger and stronger. The zombies already fear the skeleton army; with their warlord destroyed, they are leaderless and in chaos. But now, we have a new target. That wizard must be destroyed before he gathers all his power.”

  The skeleton general smiled an eerie, toothy smile.

  “The map given to me by the king of the withers will tell us where to search for the ancient weapons.” Rakir began pacing again. “We know the boy-wizard and his cohorts were at the buried Wizard’s Tower. The map will show us the nearest artifact; that will surely be where the villagers will be heading.” He turned and faced his commander. “General Rusak, you will lead a battalion of skeletons. Take what you need and find that wizard. Your priority is to find that boy and destroy him. He must not be allowed to find his powers. Capture the relics that are in his path if you can, but his destruction is paramount.” The warlord leaned toward his general and stared into Rusak’s one good eye. “Failure will not be tolerated … do you understand?”