Bones of Doom

by Mark Cheverton

  Putting away his bow, he drew Needle and charged up the hill, moving behind what he figured would be the skeletons’ position, Planter and a group of archers following behind. Some of the archers drew swords, but most kept to their bows. They pushed through the bushes and ferns until they came upon the enemy formation. Skeletons were standing in an arc, trying to shoot at the swordsmen and swordswomen in front of them. The NPC soldiers kept their shields held high, blocking the nearly constant flow of arrows, just as Watcher had instructed. Some of them had their shields right next to each other, forming a continuous surface of wood and iron, making it impossible for the skeletons to hit any part of their body. But that didn’t stop the monsters; they kept firing, unware of what was creeping up from behind.

  Watcher was terrified. All these skeletons, right there in front of him … it was like living through a nightmare. He didn’t know what to do; his fear of these terrible monsters was overwhelming his mind.

  One of the swordsmen yelled as a pointed shaft found a small gap between shields. The warrior dropped to one knee, flashing red as he took damage. The skeletons focused on the gap and all aimed at the wounded villager. The other warriors closed the gap, protecting their friends, but more arrows made it past the barricade, striking the warrior again and again … he was close to death.

  “NO!” Watcher yelled.

  The skeletons suddenly stopped firing and turned toward the sound. Their hateful gazes all fell upon Watcher and his archers.

  You aren’t gonna hurt my friends, he thought as fury bubbled up from within his soul.

  “ATTACK!” With a firm grip on Needle’s hilt, Watcher charged, his mind now overwhelmed with rage.

  The archers opened fire as Watcher sprinted toward his foe. The skeletons notched arrows and drew back, all of them aiming at the advancing boy, but before they could release, the other swordsmen and swordswomen fell on them from behind. The battle quickly went from a carefully planned set of moves to complete chaos.

  With Needle in his hand, Watcher smashed into the skeletons, his enchanted blade streaking to the left and right, faster than the monsters could react. A skeleton attacked to his left, but was suddenly silenced by three quick shots. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Planter smiling, her enchanted bow in her delicate hands. Before he could thank her, she drew and fired again, hitting another skeleton.

  “Come on, let’s get this done,” a voice said to his right. Watcher turned to see who it was, but only saw a green blur streak through the battlefield, two curved knives reflecting the sunlight; it was Blaster.

  Charging after him, Watcher reached the young boy’s side. Fighting back to back, they pushed against the skeleton horde, their razor-sharp blades slashing at any creature foolish enough to come within arm’s reach. Meanwhile, the archers fired upon the monsters at the edges while the swordsmen and swordswomen slashed at them from behind; the skeletons didn’t stand a chance. In minutes, it was over. The last remaining skeletons were given the option to surrender, but none accepted the offer. They fought until the last monster was wiped out.

  “We need to keep moving,” Watcher said in a loud, clear voice when it was all over. He felt good; his strategy with the Frost Walker boots and archers and shields had worked.

  “Why move so quickly?” Blaster asked. “We need a rest.”

  “The skeleton commander knew these monsters couldn’t win this battle.” Watcher picked up some arrows dropped by one of the enemy. “He tried to delay us for some reason, and his plan worked. We can’t help his plans by staying here longer. We must keep moving. The skeletons are up to something and we need to do the unexpected.”

  “And that’s continuing to follow them?” Planter asked.

  Watcher nodded. “We’re gonna sprint along the land for as long as we can, then keep trudging through the swamp. Eventually, we’ll reach solid land, and then we’ll be able to catch our prey.”

  “Unless the skeletons are leading us into another trap,” Blaster said.

  “Possibly,” Watcher admitted.

  “Come on, everyone,” Cutter said in a loud voice. “Listen to Watcher. It’s time to run.”

  Putting away Needle, Watcher pulled out his enchanted bow and sprinted down the hill. He waved to the villagers on the other hill and motioned for them to run as well. With the army split in two, they ran across the sloping ground, slowly gaining on the skeleton army.

  But something Blaster said nagged at Watcher’s mind.

  The skeleton general knows we’re following him. Maybe he is leading us into another trap. But without seeing it, I can’t figure out what to do … what if my plans fail? The thoughts circled through his mind, the doubt and uncertainty slowly chiseling away at his courage. But he knew they had no choice; they had to continue chasing the monsters. The skeletons couldn’t be allowed to keep the Helm of Calling. If the skeleton warlord got his hands on that magical relic, it could mean the end for all the villagers of the Far Lands, and maybe for all of Minecraft as well.

  CHAPTER 24

  General Rusak listened to the distant sounds of battle.

  “It seems the villagers fell into our trap.” The zombie laughed a deep, guttural laugh that sounded more like the growl of some great prehistoric beast. “I want scouts to go back and see what happened to the villagers. You and you.” He pointed with the end of his huge bow. “Get me information and return. Don’t get caught and don’t be seen … understood?”

  The two skeletons nodded their heads, expressions of fear on their pale white faces.

  “Then go!” Rusak yelled.

  The two monsters turned and took off running, sloshing through the shallow water.

  “The rest of you, come on, we’re heading to the great workshop of the warlock swordsmiths. If the villagers are able to find ancient relics so easily, then we should be able to find some as well.”

  “Sir, you already have a relic, why not use it and see what it does?” The question came from an archer Rusak didn’t know. He was a new addition to the army and the General hadn’t learned his name yet.

  “What is your name?”

  The skeleton looked surprised. “Me? Umm … my name is Rassa.”

  “Do you know anything about ancient relics, Rassa?” The general glared down at the monster.

  The skeleton shook his head.

  “When the great warlocks made these awesome weapons, they designed them so that the life force of the wielder would power the enchantment. The stronger the weapon, the greater cost to the wielder.” He pulled out the Helm of Calling. “Do you want to try this on and see how much of your HP it consumes?”

  Rassa shook his head and glanced down at the ground.

  “I thought so, but thank you for volunteering to test the next artifact we find.”

  “But I didn’t—”

  Rusak raised his hand, silencing the objections. “Come on, everyone, the workshop is just on the other edge of the swamp, in the Bad Lands.” The general glared at his soldiers. “Everyone move fast or be left behind as a trail for the villagers to follow.”

  The monsters instantly moved forward, pushing through the swamp water as fast as they could. The smell from the stagnant waters was terrible, even by skeleton standards, but as they approached the edge of the biome, an aroma of sulfur and ash mixed with the rotten odor.

  In the distance, the general could see a strange glow, as if the landscape were on fire. Even the bright afternoon sun could not push back the glow. Many of the monsters in his army also saw the glow and grew concerned, but a glare from their commander was enough motivation to keep trudging through the murky waters.

  When they reached the end of the swamp, Rusak smiled. He was tired of walking through the knee-high muck and was glad to have solid ground under his feet again. But before him stood the most depressing and terrifying landscape he’d ever seen: the Bad Lands.

  The ground looked as if a giant had smashed it with a hammer as large as a mountain, shattering the surface of Minecraft
and leaving behind a spider’s web of cracks. Lava filled each of the cracks, some of the boiling streams only a block wide, some much wider. Intermixed with the bright orange tributaries were pools of black, poisonous water covering wide areas of the terrain. An acidic smell rose from the toxic lakes, making it hard to breathe when passing nearby. Rusak made sure he avoided those deadly waters.

  The air had a smoky-gray color to it as ash and soot floated up into the air from the rivers of boiling stone. The haze made it difficult to see, but the general knew their goal was at the center of the Bad Lands.

  Running through the cracked and broken landscape, Rusak looked for places where they could cross the lava without too much risk. He didn’t want to lose any skeletons to the lava if it wasn’t necessary. He wove his way around a huge, noxious pool, only to be stopped by a wide river of lava. Pulling blocks of dirt from his inventory, he placed one in the middle of the river. Fortunately, the lava wasn’t very deep, and the top of the block stayed above the boiling stone.

  “Jump from the bank to the block of dirt,” the skeleton commander yelled. “Don’t be an idiot and fall in!”

  The general jumped to the block of dirt, then sprang to the other side and continued running.

  “General Rusak, where is this place you seek?” one of the skeleton lieutenants asked.

  “In the Bad Lands, all lava leads to the lake of fire, and that’s where we’ll find our goal.” The huge skeleton pointed to the burning river that cut through the landscape. The lava that bubbled and boiled within its banks slowly oozed along the sinuous channel. “Follow the lava.”

  The skeletons moved along the edge of the glowing river, the heat of it almost too much to bear. The glow from the molten stone painted each of the pale creatures with an orange hue, making them seem to glow in the afternoon light. Many of them stared down at the deadly liquid with expressions of fear on their bone-white faces.

  “Hurry, you fools,” Rusak growled. “I want to be at the workshop before nightfall.”

  He glanced up at the sun. Its bright square face tried to shine through the gray pall that covered the afternoon sky, but all it managed was a faint fuzzy glow that barely managed to penetrate the smoky mist overhead.

  “We must go faster.” The general shoved one of the skeletons forward.

  The monster stumbled and fell to the ground, his bow falling out of his bony fingers and falling into the lava filled stream. The weapon instantly burst into flames.

  “Keep moving, all of you, or a bow won’t be the only thing that lands in the lava,” Rusak growled.

  The skeletons moved quicker, scurrying as fast as their pale legs would go. They followed the glowing river, careful to stay beyond arm’s reach of their general, crossing narrow tributaries that fed the wide river of fire.

  Slowly, a building emerged from the haze. It was a massive castle built from the various colors of stained clay that made up the Bad Lands. Watchtowers sat at the corners of a fortified wall that hugged the castle, their dark and silent windows staring down at them like lifeless eyes. Tall arcs of dark stone jutted up into the air from the imposing wall, curving high up into the open air and out from the barricade like curved blades. The tip of each curled structure glowed bright orange as lava fell from the tip of the arc and splashed down upon the scorched ground, then flowed into the wide Lake of Fire surrounding the structure.

  Orange light from the many rivers feeding the Lake of Fire shone upon the fortress, but there was also a faint purple glow to it as well. Magical enchantments, cast many centuries ago, protected the structure from both the ravages of age and the scorching heat of the lava.

  The skeleton general approached a bridge that spanned the boiling lake. Two looming towers stood at the far end, daring them to cross. Rusak was unafraid; this was a monster place, and they belonged here. He moved across the bridge and headed into the courtyard, his troops following close behind. Narrow lines of lava flowed underfoot, creating geometric patterns that stretched across the courtyard. Over the glowing channels, cubes of glass kept the molten stone contained and the inhabitants of the castle safe from the lava’s burning kiss.

  “Search all the rooms. Look for hidden passages, pressure plates, or buttons. We need to find any relics that are here.” General Rusak glared at his soldiers. “Break the walls if you must, but find me the magical artifacts that have been tucked away for us.”

  The general drew his enchanted iron sword, the keen edge nearly glowing in the light of the setting sun. As the skeletons dispersed through the many doorways and passages that opened to the courtyard, General Rusak walked into the main hall. Long tables and chairs lined the edges of the room, with a huge fireplace built in the center. Flames perpetually flickered within the bedrock-lined structure; they’d been burning for as long as any skeleton could remember.

  “I will find the secrets that lie within these halls, even if I must destroy every block. There must be a weapon here left behind by the warlocks that can aid us in our quest to control the Far Lands.”

  Pulling out the Helm of Calling, he stared at the object, the fire at the center of the room painting the reflective helmet with delicate, curved flames. The gems that ringed the top of the object seemed to glow with magical power, something he hadn’t noticed before … unless they hadn’t initially been glowing.

  “You know something’s here, don’t you,” the general said to the mirrored Helm. “Perhaps you can help me find my prize.”

  Staring down at the jeweled armor, Rusak walked slowly through the castle, staring down at the gems at they grew brighter and dimmer, trying to tell the skeleton something he couldn’t quite understand … yet.

  CHAPTER 25

  The villagers trudged through the swamp, running across blocks of dirt or lily pads whenever possible, trying to catch their distant prey. But no matter how hard they sloshed through the mucky waters, they never saw the skeleton army.

  “I see some of their scouts up ahead.” Watcher was standing atop an oak tree that stood on a small island of grassy blocks. The parrot on his shoulder squawked, then flew off to search the land. “There are two of them out there, trying to hide behind some shrubs. I’m sure they see us.”

  “No reason for us to hide,” Cutter said. “They obviously know we’re here, or they wouldn’t have set that trap for us back on those hills.”

  “Maybe they’re trying to see if any of their skeletons survived the battle.” Winger’s dark brown hair fell across her face as she glanced at the others. She pulled the rebellious strands back behind an ear and continued. “They probably figured some of the skeletons would have survived. There’s no way they knew what we were going to do when we were attacked.”

  “That’s for sure,” Planter added, then glanced up proudly at Watcher in the tree.

  He looked down at her and smiled, her blond hair glowing bright in the afternoon sun. Planter had morphed from the child he’d made mud pies with when they were little to the beautiful girl she was today. Her smile seemed whiter and her green eyes brighter. He’d never noticed it before, but those green eyes had a magical pull, making him want to just stare into them and never leave their emerald embrace. And then he remembered his father saying something about his mother’s brown eyes, how they were like melted chocolate … or something like that. It was a long time ago, before she died, but it was something he enjoyed about the woman who was the love of his life.

  Is that it? Watcher thought. Is this love? But what if she doesn’t feel the same way?

  Icicles of fear stabbed into him, chilling him to the bone.

  Someone said something, but Watcher didn’t hear.

  Just then something banged on the tree trunk beneath him. It snapped Watcher out of his daze. He stared down at the ground and found Cutter glaring up at him, Planter at his side. They stood close together … way too close for his liking, but what could he say? Anger bubbled up within him again, an anger focused at Cutter, though he didn’t hate the warrior. In fact, the b
ig warrior was supposed to be his friend.

  And then he understood … it was jealousy. I’m jealous of Cutter. Does he like Planter? And does Planter like him?

  This was getting much too confusing. Just being friends was much easier than all these emotions.

  “Get down … we need to hurry,” Cutter said. “I don’t like being out here in the swamp at night. The last thing we need is to run into a bunch of slimes … or worse.”

  “I agree,” Planter said, nodding.

  Watcher scowled.

  Mapper moved to the big NPC’s side, near a block of dirt. He placed his ender chest on the ground and opened it, then flipped through the book that was, technically, still in the ancient library in the Wizard’s Tower. Glancing up at Watcher, he motioned him to come down. The boy quickly moved to his side, then motioned for Cutter to come as well.

  “Watcher, Cutter … this book shows a map from that ocean structure to the swamp. You can see those two hills where the skeletons attacked.” Mapper pointed to the page in the book. “They named the hills the Twins. It says they were named because of two wizards that—”

  “We don’t care why they’re named the Twins,” Cutter snapped. “Just show us where we’re at.”

  Mapper pointed at the map, careful not to touch the ancient document. “The Twins are here. We’re here in the swamp, and south of us are the Bad Lands.”

  “Why are they called the Bad Lands?” Winger asked.

  “It’s said that during the Great War between the wizards and the warlocks, the monsters cast such powerful spells that they actually cracked the world around them. The Bad Lands were once full of lush forest and grassy plains, but now they’re charred and damaged, the soil actually baked into different colors of clay. Rivers of lava stretch across the land, making travel precarious.”

  “What’s that?” Watcher asked, pointing to a pair of crossed swords in the middle of a lava lake.