by Mur Lafferty
“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Max said. “This is the Nether. No one lives here!”
“I have nothing!” Freya cried. “My family was all I had. No one’s waiting for me in the Overworld. I know how to survive here. Why not stay?”
Alison stared at her, finally coming around to Max’s point of view. She pointed out the window and looked at Freya. “Why not stay here? There are about a million reasons! Your water is going to run out! There’s a lake of fire! Mobs of chickens and zombie pigmen! The fact that you can’t enter rooms in your own house because, oh, well, there may be deadly mobs on the other side of the door! And eating nothing but mushrooms and whatever you can hunt off a deadly monster for the rest of your life? Are you insane?” She looked back out into the canyon where one jockeyless chicken still wandered around, pecking sadly at a patch of soul sand.
Max came away from the window, rubbing his ear like he did when he was thinking. “Ali’s not wrong,” he said to Freya. “No one in their right mind would want to live here.” He looked back at Alison, with uncharacteristic maturity in his eyes. “But Ali,” he said, his voice soft. “Were you in your right mind when your parents died?”
Alison’s jaw snapped shut as she thought about that terrible day. The tree house, obliterated. The sheep, escaped. Her parents, sister, grandmother, nowhere to be found. Common sense had been to find a neighbor, get help searching what was left of the house, looking in the area for injured family members.
Instead, she had numbly gone after the sheep. Soon after, Max’s frantic mother and Mr. Hatch found her. They had heard the explosion and were doing the right thing in the situation: searching for survivors. Alison had just wandered off, being useless.
“I have to get the sheep into the pen,” she’d said. Her eyes had felt very wide, and she’d stared at the adults, not focusing on them.
Max’s mom had looked at Mr. Hatch for one anguished minute, and then carefully wrapped Alison in a hug. That’s when she’d allowed herself to cry.
Alison shook her head to clear it of the memory, wanting to physically push it away. She glanced at Freya, who was petting her wolf and pointedly ignoring Max and Alison. “No. I’m sorry,” Alison said. “We can leave in the morning.”
Freya looked up at them, confusion scrawled across her face. “Leave? Why would you leave? You’ll die out there!” She shook her head firmly. “No, you’re staying here with me. I’m going to show you the fortress—the safe rooms,” she added at the look on Alison’s face, “because I think you’re really going to want to see the special room.”
“The ‘special room’?” Max asked, his hand closing around the hilt of his new sword. Alison wasn’t even sure if he knew he was doing it.
Freya nodded confidently. “Oh yeah. That’s where the fun stuff is.”
THE LOCKED ROOM IS MIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD
Freya had initially taken them to what Max and Alison had assumed was a kitchen in the fortress, as it held the secret door to the tunnel outside, as well as a furnace for cooking and a few tables. But Max realized quickly that whoever, or whatever, had constructed the fortress meant it as merely a storage room. That much was obvious when Freya led them out of the room and the glory of the great hall lay before them.
“I don’t like to eat in here,” she admitted.
“Oh, really? Why not?” Max asked, sarcastically, his voice sounding tiny in the massive room.
The ceiling created a cavern at least thirty blocks high, with a large carved blaze on the far wall. Around the blaze a cascade of lava ran down the wall to flow into some other area—hopefully not another place in the fortress, because this room was hot enough. Down the middle of the room ran a stone table that could seat at least fifty people, possibly more. The stone chairs were the only source of color in the room; about ten of them had colorful cushions on the seats, making those chairs stand out garishly.
Freya saw Ali touching one of the cushions. “Yeah, I added my own touches to begin with. Found a stash of wool banners and repurposed them to make the cushions.”
“You found a stash of banners in the Nether?” Ali asked, frowning.
“I figured someone from the Overworld brought them,” Freya said, shrugging. “Who knows where stuff comes from?”
Max had hoped that the great hall would be the only lava room. No such luck. When they exited the hall and entered an even bigger cavern, he jumped back at the steep drop into a river of lava below them.
“I call this the Hub,” Freya said, striding confidently onto a stone ledge only two blocks wide. It was the first step of a bridge that led from the hall in several directions, with a doorway at the end of each branch going into the sheer rock wall at the other end of the cavern.
Oh yeah, and the bridges were keeping them high—at least fifty blocks high—above a river of lava below. Guess that’s where the lava from the great hall went.
“So where do all those doors go?” Ali asked.
Freya pointed to the leftmost door. “That one goes to the living quarters. Bunny Biter and I sleep on a blanket on the floor in one of those rooms. Do you want to know the real proof that the Nether is pure evil?” She stepped out onto the bridge over the lava and kept talking as if she expected them to follow. With nervous glances down into the glowing orange fire death below, they complied. “If you try to sleep in a bed you’ll blow up as if you tried to snuggle with a creeper.” Freya gave a quick glance over her shoulder at Ali, who was pale. “Oh, crap, I’m sorry. But yeah. You’ll blow up.”
“If we sleep in a bed?” Ali asked, her words slow, as if she was making sure she understood the meaning of each one.
“Yeah. I don’t know what it is about this place. Can’t sleep in a bed. Dad always said it was insta-death.” Freya shrugged, not looking back at them. “He could have been lying but I really didn’t feel like testing it. Kind of like testing if a sword is sharp by trying to cut your arm off.”
“Tell me again how I was not in my right mind when my parents died,” Ali hissed at Max. “Where are we going to sleep, on top of a lava raft?”
Max grinned at her. “It would be warm, at least.”
“Second door,” continued Freya, “is the kitchen, and beyond that, the main living area. It’s got a gorgeous balcony that looks out over the canyon.”
“And that’s where you make gallons of mushroom soup?” Ali asked.
“That’s right,” Freya said. “Third door is the one we’re going to. That’s the basement where the library is. Enchanting, alchemy, crafting, it’s all done down there. Wait till you see it.”
They reached the crossroads where the bridge branched, and Freya took the third path. Max looked down again at the roiling lava below them and then hurried to keep up. Sweat beaded on his brow from the rising heat.
“What about that?” he asked, pointing to where the last bridge on the right ended at two stacked blocks of netherrack.
“I’m pretty sure the spawn rooms are beyond there. We don’t go there,” Freya said. “There are some bedrooms I don’t open, but I’ve made sure to clear out the basement and we try to clean it every day. The stuff down there is too useful to keep locked up.”
They walked down a few flights of stairs. Max ran his hand along the stone wall, feeling the heat come and go as they went below the level of the lava lake.
They reached a metal door at the bottom of the stairs. Freya held up a hand and gestured for them to be quiet. She placed a hand on the door for a moment and then took it off.
“Hot?” Max whispered. Freya shook her head and put her hand to her lips, glaring at him.
He got the message and stopped talking. She put her head to the door and listened, then frowned. She looked back at them and walked stiffly around, miming shooting an arrow. Ali nodded, getting it, and Max realized Freya was telling them there were skeletons inside.
; Freya pointed to Ali and then partway up the stairs, giving a little distance between her and the door. She pointed to Max and then at the door. She went to join Ali, who had already removed her bow.
Wait, why did he have to be point? That wasn’t fair. Freya was a better fighter than he was!
But the weapons. He had a new, possibly enchanted golden sword, and everyone knows the sword fighter has to get into the fight while the ranged fighters pick off the enemy from a distance.
Why hadn’t he picked up a bow? He drew his sword and moved directly in front of the door. The golden sword thrummed in his hand, and he knew he had chosen the right thing. He wouldn’t have traded the sword for anything.
Now he could hear it, the faint clacking sound that the skeletons always made when they were hunting for prey.
He put his left hand on the knob and gripped the sword tighter with his right. He gave a quick glance back and saw that the girls behind him both had arrows nocked, ready to let fly at a moment’s notice.
Max took a deep breath, opened the door, and, with a primal yell, ran into the room.
Bunny Biter streaked past him, tripping him, which saved his life. As he stumbled, a sword whooshed over his head as a skeleton by the door swung at him. Bunny Biter grabbed the skeleton’s sword arm in her teeth and bit down hard, her weight dragging the skeleton’s arm down. She shook her head quickly, and Max took the skeleton’s head off with the sword. He didn’t pay much attention to the body, instead watching the head fly off into the room. He took a moment to appreciate his new sword, staring at the way the lava light glinted off the gilded metal.
It really needed a name, he decided.
Another skeleton lunged at him just as he heard the twang of an arrow—it was coming from inside the room, and it was headed for him. He fell against the open door, the arrow hitting the metal and ricocheting off. The air whooshed in front of him as the skeleton missed its swing, inches from Max’s face.
“Max, get out of the doorway!” Ali called from the hallway, exasperated. “We don’t have a clear shot!”
“I hear you,” he grumbled. “Kinda busy!” He slid off the door and toward the right corner of the room. He got a sense of how massive the room was: it was a long library with bookshelves, enchanting tables, and more. It reminded him of the Enchanter’s basement, but bigger and more ornate.
This one was also full of skeletons.
How were they going to get through them all? He didn’t have time to worry, though, since one was coming straight at him. But the dang wolf was under his feet again, and he stumbled and fell, his back against the wall and the skeleton above him, raising its sword to attack. He had no idea how he was going to get out of this one, but he tried to block the incoming blow with his own, still nameless weapon. He felt a thrum of power when the swords connected, and the skeleton flew backward into the crowd where it was immediately shot by one of the girls in the hallway.
The skeleton fell, and Bunny Biter ran up to it, grabbed its collarbone, and shook it hard. The skeleton was clearly down, so maybe this was just to make sure, or to get a snack before the thing disappeared. But the wolf dropped its prize and ran for her next target.
Max clambered up, staring at the fallen skeleton. He was beginning to get an idea about the potential power his sword might be carrying. He kept away from the doorway to give the archers their chance to shoot straight into the room. Two more enemies fell immediately to arrows, but then Max was busy again, dodging an arrow from a skeleton across the room. As much as he wanted to attack that one in retaliation, he had another in front of him to deal with. He swung his sword and connected with its ribs. It flew off its feet and backward, crashing into the attacker that had just fired the arrow.
Oh! That was interesting. He focused on another skeleton, again testing his new sword theory. The skeleton was swinging a sword at him. Instead of landing a blow, he parried the strike, and when the weapons connected, the skeleton flew backward.
This was fun! With renewed energy, Max waded into the melee, swinging at anything that moved, not trying to kill, but just to connect. Every time he touched an enemy, it flew backward into the wall or deeper into the room. Bunny Biter was having a party, gleefully barking and chasing the skeletons around as they ran from her, and going from fallen skeleton to fallen skeleton. She was rewarded with more bones as the walking undead fell.
It was becoming almost a game. Bunny Biter kept the skeletons moving; the arrows flying into the room were taking down several; and the distractions allowed him to go on the offensive, bellowing and swinging his new sword to knock back the monsters. We’ll survive the Nether. This is easy! The thought had barely formed in his adrenaline-filled mind when he heard Ali’s cry of alarm. He didn’t have time to register what it meant because he was distracted by the sudden piercing pain of an arrow sinking into his shoulder.
* * *
—
Alison knelt over Max, who lay on the floor. “Are you sure you don’t have a cot or something to put him on?” she asked.
“Told you what happens when you get in a bed here,” Freya said, tossing a torch onto the wall and running for a brewing stand. “Just try to make him comfortable.”
With what? Ali thought, but said nothing. She started reciting the rules of mob encounters that they had learned in school.
“Don’t remove the arrow until you have a healing potion,” she said aloud, and tore Max’s shirt from where the arrow had pierced his shoulder.
“Carefully secure the arrow,” she said, repeating the words of the next step.
“Brew a healing potion,” she said, but Freya had that covered. She was still at the brewing station, red liquid bubbling in her glass beaker as she added ingredients.
“Keep an eye out for further threats, as you will be vulnerable during this time.” She glanced around her. Bunny Biter was bounding through the room, gathering fallen skeleton bones and taking them to a corner. She couldn’t dig here, but she clearly had a special place for her treats. I guess it keeps the place tidy. The wolf wasn’t exactly keeping vigilant watch, but she was moving around the room a lot, so if there were any stray threats, Bunny Biter would run into them.
“Tell the injured what an idiot they are,” she said, making up this rule on the spot. “You are an idiot,” she said. “I told you to stay out of the doorway.”
“What do you think of ‘Bone Bane’?” Max mumbled.
Alison sat back, staring at him. She was as happy to see him awake as she was confused by his comment. “What are you talking about?”
“My…sword.” He waved his uninjured arm to gesture at his hip, where his sword would have been. He’d dropped it when he fell, and it lay off to the side. Bunny Biter was sniffing it now. “Needs a name. It’s magic.”
“That’s what you’re thinking about?” Alison shouted. “Max, you were shot.”
“But did you see the sword? It’s got…a knockback enchantment!” he said, excitement coming through even as he was wincing from pain.
“You’re impossible,” she said. She stood stiffly and walked to where Freya was swirling the red liquid in a bottle.
“How’s the patient?” Freya asked.
“Fine. Talking about his sword.” Alison rolled her eyes. “Is it ready?”
“Yes,” Freya said, handing the bottle to her. Between them, Bunny Biter walked, backward, as she awkwardly dragged Max’s new sword away by the hilt.
Freya held Max’s head while Alison poured the potion into his mouth. Max choked at first, coughed, and then drank the rest. He sighed, and lay back. Alison adjusted his head and shoulder so his healing body could push the arrow out easily.
The arrow trembled and jerked, and then rose out of Max’s shoulder, falling to the side. He sighed again, and closed his eyes.
“Let him sleep,” Freya said, and sat down, leaning against the
wall. “I could use some too.”
Now that Max was all right, the adrenaline rushed out of Alison, and she began to shake. She tried to smoothly move from kneeling by Max to leaning against the wall by Freya, but it was closer to just falling over. She was glad the wall was there to catch her.
Freya cracked an eyelid. “What’s with you? Are you hurt?”
“I’m not used to so much fighting. And—” She closed her mouth with a snap. She didn’t want to say it.
“And?”
Alison closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see Freya. “I was the one that shot Max,” she whispered.
She waited for a blurt of horror, or an accusation, or a demand she return her bow, or, well, anything other than Freya saying, “So?” in a bored voice.
But that was what she said. Alison opened her eyes and looked at her new friend, who rested with her head back against the wall. “What do you mean ‘So’? I shot my best friend! I’m a monster!”
“We were fighting. You told him to stay out of the doorway. You shot a bow into a melee. He got shot. Friendly fire happens all the time in battles.”
“I never really thought about it,” Alison said. Fighting clearly had some important details other than “kill the monster, and don’t let the monster kill you.”
“You shot him, but you also took care of him and made sure he got treatment. Now he’s fine.” She glanced at Max, shirtless and dozing on his back. “I’ll need to find him another shirt, though.”
* * *
—
Alison had nearly fallen asleep when Freya started talking. She sat against the wall, her butt nearly numb, her neck stiff from leaning back, but she didn’t move when Freya’s words jerked her out of her doze. It took her a second to catch up, but Alison quickly realized she was talking about her parents’ death.
“To be honest I didn’t know what to do, so I did what was in front of me,” she said. She had stretched out on the floor on her back, head pillowed on Bunny Biter, who had returned to them with a rib bone in her mouth and was happily chewing away. The slurping and grinding sounds were oddly soothing.