Bones of Doom

by Mark Cheverton

  “It says ‘Swordsmith’s Workshop.’ The markings suggest there is an ancient relic there, but I’m not sure about that. It’s a warlock place, but it’s said to have sunken into the lava. No one goes there anymore; it’s far too dangerous.”

  Watcher glanced at Cutter. “I bet that’s where they’re going. Maybe the Workshop didn’t sink into the lava. The skeleton commander is probably going there looking for an ancient relic.”

  “We aren’t gonna let that happen, are we?” a voice said from behind. Blaster stepped forward as he changed from his gray-green leather armor to his favorite, black.

  “Let’s catch up with the rest of the army,” Cutter said. “The only place the skeleton general could be heading is toward that building in the middle of the lava lake, if it still exists. I say we head straight for it.”

  “Agreed.” Watcher glanced up at the sun. Just then, his parrot squawked overhead and descended, landing gently on his shoulder. “It’ll be dark soon. The lava in the Bad Lands will help us to see, but we need sharp eyes around us. I’ll ask the archers to keep a watch out for monsters.”

  “You don’t ask … you command,” Cutter said.

  The warrior’s statement felt like a rebuke, but Watcher knew Cutter was right. He was in command, and he needed to act like it. Watcher nodded, still not used to being in charge.

  They marched for another hour. Many of the birds flew high above the swamp, likely glad to be in fresh air instead of the stagnant and odorous air that clung to the swamp. By the time the sun had reached the horizon, the villagers had made it to the edge of the swamp and the start of the Bad Lands.

  “Look at all the smoke and soot in the air,” Winger said. “It’s sunset, and the sky is gray with barely any color to it. I love sunset, but I hate this place.”

  Watcher glanced to the west. The horizon was taking on a grayish-red smear that appeared more like a stain across the sky than a beautiful sunset. The sad display made everything seem a little more hopeless.

  “This land earned its name well,” Cleric said. “Many tales have been spun about the Bad Lands. The few who sought it out never returned.”

  “Well, that’s a cheery thought,” Blaster said.

  “The zombies had a name for this place,” Er-Lan said, a faint quiver to his voice.

  “What was it?” Cleric asked.

  “Land of Death,” the zombie answered, his dark eyes filled with fear.

  “Well … that’s another happy thought.” Blaster slapped Er-Lan on the back, then put an arm around him and stepped into the Bad Lands.

  They walked across the brown, hardened clay, heading toward a thick column of smoke in the distance. Rivers of lava cut through the terrain, making the path difficult at times. Frequently, they had to build bridges out of cobblestone to get around some of the wide, boiling tributaries. At times, they found blocks of dirt or cobblestone already placed in the middle of a river, letting them jump across safely. Many of them found this strange, but they were grateful for the safe route.

  Watcher coughed as he inhaled, the smoke and ash biting the back of his throat. The orange glow from the rivers of lava illuminated the smoky haze, making the air appear to glow as if it were aflame. The sight made him nervous.

  As the sun sat farther behind the western horizon, the land drew darker, allowing the light from the molten stone to dominate the landscape. Everything took on an eerie, orange glow, the smoke becoming too thick to see through. Imaginary beasts lurked in the back of Watcher’s mind, waiting to emerge from the thick, smoky haze. It made him shudder.

  Suddenly, a warm hand settled itself on his arm. Turning, he found Planter smiling at him, her golden axe held at the ready.

  “You okay?” She smiled.

  It felt as if the fear and worry and anger were suddenly swept away by her radiant beauty. That’s what Planter did to him; it was like she filled the empty little spaces within him, where he was incomplete.

  “Yeah … just a little nervous.”

  “We all are, Watcher.”

  He nodded, then slowly curved around one of the dark pools of water, a toxic smell rising from its surface. None of the villagers ventured close to the poisonous liquid, the choking gasses floating up from the surface too terrible to bear.

  Should I say something to her about how I feel? Watcher thought.

  He steeled himself for that terrible moment, but before he could speak, someone shouted, “I think I see a footprint!”

  Watcher moved to the voice and stared down at the ground as others passed him by. A narrow set of prints were visible on the ground; a bony foot had brushed away some of the ash, leaving a red stained-clay block visible underneath.

  “There’s something over here,” another shouted. The NPC lifted a wooden stick into the air, the ends charred. A long string hung from the piece of wood, its end also burned. “I think it’s a stick or tree branch.”

  “No … it’s a bow,” Cutter said as he took the item from the villager. The big NPC stared down at it for a moment. “It’s the remains of a skeleton bow. One of the creatures must have dropped it in the lava.”

  Watcher nodded, then motioned everyone forward. They continued through the scorched terrain, following the faint hints of skeleton footprints when they could. They moved slowly and carefully, making sure there were safe places to cross when streams of lava intersected their path. As they walked, Watcher stared at the back of Planter’s head, her blond hair now taking on a crimson hue in the orange light. Winger moved next to him and elbowed him in the ribs.

  “What?” Watcher asked.

  His sister just smiled at him. “Well?”

  He shrugged, pretending to not understand what she was asking … but he knew exactly what she was asking: Had he told Planter how he felt?

  “Winger … it’s just that—”

  “There’s something up ahead,” a voice said from the haze.

  Slowly a dark shape emerged from the ashen fog; it was Blaster wearing charcoal-gray leather armor that seemed to melt into the smoky background.

  “It’s a huge castle with a giant moat of lava surrounding the structure.” He stopped and waited for the others to reach him.

  Cutter ran to him across the landscape. The perpetual east-to-west breeze suddenly increased, blowing the landscape momentarily clear. The mysterious castle came into view, with its hardened clay exterior, magma blocks, and tall flows of lava falling from its heights. It was something that would have looked more at home in the Nether than in the Far Lands; its very presence brought feelings of trepidation and fear.

  The NPC army approached the castle and stood before the dark, sparkling bridge that spanned the boiling moat. Watcher stared up at the watchtowers that loomed overhead, his enchanted bow notched and ready; he expected guards to attack at any moment, but the stone sentinels remained silent and empty.

  Before them, the massive wall of baked clay loomed high into the air, towers dotting the barricade at its corners. Just beyond the obsidian bridge, massive iron gates stood open, daring them to enter. Watcher stared at the gates and felt a tickling warning of fear in the back of his mind. There was something strange about this place, something unnatural and evil. But there was also something alluring to it, as if the ancient structure was whispering to him, the words unintelligible, but tantalizing. It felt as if the castle was trying to draw him into its dark halls and shadowy passages, past the burning fires and glowing magma blocks. But would this enchanted structure allow any of them to leave?

  Watcher knew they had no choice either way … they must enter and pursue their enemy at any cost.

  CHAPTER 26

  Sweat trickled down the back of Watcher’s neck as he crossed the obsidian bridge. The parrot on Watcher’s shoulder ruffled its feathers, then jumped into the air, squawking, apparently not enjoying the heat either. Many of the birds flew in lazy circles overhead, some settling on the fortified walls while others stayed close to the villagers. Er-Lan had them scanning the buil
ding for monsters, but they gave no indication of seeing anything.

  Lava bubbled beneath the bridge throwing ash and smoke into the air, making breathing difficult. As Watcher moved across the bridge, an eerie chill trickled down his spine; Was that some kind of magical warning? he wondered.

  Stepping off the bridge, Watcher bolted across the rusty, baked ground until he reached the entrance to the castle. The huge iron gates seemed to be rusted in place, forever open, but not inviting. Next to the opening, lava spilled off the high, fortified wall, falling to the ground and flowing into the moat that ringed the structure. The heat was unbearable.

  “Come on, everyone, we need to find those skeletons.” Cutter drew his diamond sword. “They must be stopped from finding any magical artifacts or weapons.” He turned toward Watcher. “What’s the plan?”

  The boy peered through the haze and into the courtyard that stood within the fortified walls. Footsteps could be seen on the ash-covered ground … a lot of them. Orange light glowed through the thin layer of soot as streams of lava moved beneath the floor of the castle. Cubes of glass kept the boiling stone contained, but Watcher was worried; he knew how fragile those transparent cubes could be.

  Dark passages stood empty along the edges of the courtyard. Some were narrow hallways, just a block or two wide, while others spanned a dozen blocks or more. They all led into the terrifying depths of the massive castle.

  “They didn’t leave any skeleton bones behind,” Blaster said at Watcher’s side, “so at least we know the monsters aren’t trying to lure us into some kind of trap.”

  The other villagers nodded. The young boy turned and cast his gaze across the villagers. Fear and uncertainty covered each face. They could all feel the ancient and terrifying power of this fortress; each of them knew there’d be dangerous things lurking in the shadowy tunnels.

  “Whatever the skeletons are looking for in this fortress, it must be denied them.” Watcher pulled Needle from his inventory, the purple glow pushing back the light from the lava and raising their spirits. “We’ll split up into small groups and go into each passage. As soon as any of you find the skeletons, come back to the courtyard and wait for others. If you don’t find any monsters in five minutes, come back here anyway.”

  He turned to Cutter, hoping the big warrior would validate his plan. Cutter just nodded, then patted Blaster on the back and headed off into one of the passages, a torch in his hand.

  The other villagers broke into groups of five to eight and chose different passages.

  “Come on, Watcher.” Planter tugged at his chain mail. “We’re searching this one.”

  He turned and followed her with Winger and Er-Lan at his side, Cleric and Mapper following close behind. They moved through a large doorway. Above the opening, two item frames were placed on the wall, each with an anvil mounted in the center; that seemed strange.

  The passage was dark, the light from the many lava channels being blocked by the stone walls. It gave a welcome relief to the heat, but the darkness was anything but reassuring. Overhead, magma blocks ran down the center of the passage, the glowing cubes lighting the ceiling, but doing little to brighten the corridor. Watcher pulled out a torch and placed it on the wall. It cast a flickering glow, illuminating the passage and making the ground—and any possible tripwires or pressure plates—visible.

  The corridor turned left, then right, then plunged downward, heading deeper under the terrifying castle. They seemed to descend forever; the rocky stairs extending off into the darkness and disappearing. Watcher thought they might hit bedrock, but then the passage leveled out and opened to a long tunnel that stretched out farther than they could see. Iron doors dotted the walls every dozen blocks or so. Picking one with the flickering light of torches coming through the iron door’s window, Watcher pressed his ear against the metal surface and listened.

  “You hear anything?” Planter asked.

  Watcher shook his head. “Let’s go in and look around.”

  Before anyone could respond, Watcher reached for the lever next to the door and flipped it up. The door squeaked open. Instantly, Watcher’s parrot jumped into the air and flew around the chamber. Other birds joined the first, searching the room for dangers. They quickly returned and nuzzled the necks of the villagers.

  “The birds think it is safe.” Er-Lan stroked the feathery crown of the royal blue parrot on his shoulder, his clawed hand moving gently down the animal’s back. “Care is still advised.”

  Watcher nodded. “I think you’re right; everyone watch for tripwires or pressure plates. This feels like a monster place, and who knows what kinds of traps they’ve left behind.”

  He stepped into the chamber and surveyed the room. At the center, a large fireplace built from red brick dominated the chamber. A fire burned within the hearth, painting the walls and floor with a flickering yellow light. Along the walls, crafting benches of different sizes stood next to enchanting tables, the two surrounded by shelves of books. Tiny, almost transparent symbols floated from the bookshelves and streamed into the open book that sat on the enchanting table, adding to the power of the magical device.

  Chests stood along one wall, all with their lids already flung open. Their contents: stone tools, books, clothing, stone blocks … all lay discarded on the ground.

  “It looks like this place has been searched recently.” Cleric pointed to the chests.

  Mapper quickly picked up the books that floated on the ground, then moved to the bookshelves and inspected the writing on the spines. He was like a child looking at new toys.

  Watcher put away his bow and moved to the fireplace. He could see blocks of netherrack beneath the fire, the rusty red cubes fueling the flames for eternity.

  Suddenly, something snapped on the far side of the room. Spinning, Watcher drew Needle and pointed it toward the noise. He found one of the parrots walking through the discarded items from the chests, munching on some seeds that were strewn across the ground.

  “I don’t think there’s anything here,” Winger said.

  Watcher turned toward his sister. To his surprise, Needle grew bright as it passed by the fireplace.

  “You see that?” Planter’s voice was filled with excitement. “The sword lit up for a moment.”

  Watcher nodded, then slowly turned with the magical blade extended. When it neared the fireplace, the weapon gave off a bright purple light. “There’s something in that fireplace.”

  Planter moved up to the flames, then used a shovel to put out the fire. Instantly, the room was plunged into darkness. Cleric pulled out a torch and held it over the cooling netherrack blocks.

  “You see anything?” Mapper asked.

  Cleric shook his head.

  “It would be under the netherrack,” Watcher said. “Use a pick axe.”

  Planter gently pushed Cleric out of the way, then brought a pick axe down upon the netherrack blocks. With two quick hits, she shattered one of the blocks, then broke the other and gasped in surprise. Beneath the second block was a wooden chest.

  “Open it … open it,” Mapper said.

  As Planter put away her pick axe, Winger leaned into the hole and opened the chest. Reaching into the darkness, she lifted a bow and stacks of arrows, then set them on the ground.

  “Look at the bow, it’s glowing,” Planter said in awe.

  Winger picked up the weapon. “I can feel heat coming from the bow.”

  “I bet it’s a fire-bow,” Mapper said. “There were many made during the Great War. Be careful where you shoot; you could burn down an entire village if you weren’t careful.”

  “Look at these arrows,” Planter said.

  She picked up a stack and handed them to Watcher. Some of them had tips which were blue and wet to the touch, another group seemed to smolder with some internal heat, a thin line of smoke escaping from their tips, while a few were colored ruby red and dripped as if some potion were contained within their sharp points. Watcher put away Needle and pulled out his bow. He
fired one of the glowing arrows into the far wall. Instantly, the shaft caught fire, then lit the stone wall ablaze. Quickly, he fired one of the blue arrows. When it hit, a stream of water was formed, covering the far end of the chamber and extinguishing the flames.

  “Fire arrows I understand,” Watcher said. “But water arrows?”

  “Good for irrigating crops, I think,” Mapper said.

  Watcher nodded, then brought the third kind of arrow to his nose and sniffed, then let a drop of the liquid land on his skin. “Healing arrow.”

  Instantly, Er-Lan stepped back, afraid. “Healing things are poisonous to the undead.” He took another step backward. “Keep it away.”

  “Don’t worry, Er-Lan, I’ll keep it safe.” Watcher stuffed it into his inventory. He glanced at his father. “Maybe would could use it on some of the villagers.”

  “Or maybe use it on a skeleton,” Winger said. “They’re undead … right?”

  Er-Lan nodded.

  “Hmmm …” Cleric was lost in thought.

  Watcher gathered up the rest of the arrows and handed some to Winger, then put the rest into his inventory.

  “There’s something else in the chest.” Planter reached in and pulled out an enchanted shield, the front colored blood-red, with three black skulls decorating the rectangle. “I could use a new shield.” She glanced at Watcher and smiled. “You broke my last enchanted one … remember?”

  “I was fighting a wither at the time,” Watcher replied, grinning.

  She shrugged, then put the glowing rectangle into her inventory.

  “I think we should search some other rooms, son,” Cleric suggested.

  Watcher nodded and headed for the door.

  They moved back into the long hallway and checked the next set of doors. Some were burning hot, the metal doors almost too warm to touch. Others had smoke billowing from the doorframe or bright lava light streaming from the barred window set in the middle of the door. None of these seem likely candidates. Further down the passage, they found a door that was cool and lacked any smoke or lava. Watcher stepped up to it and smiled.