Battle for the Nether Page 12

  Gameknight followed Crafter, still lost in the terrible memory of his most recent dream. Had it been real . . . had Erebus really made it to the physical world? Confused and terrifying thoughts rattled around in his brain as he followed the pair to the crafting chamber, fear seeping into his soul.

  CHAPTER 10

  THE FACE OF TERROR

  T

  he minecart slowed to a stop as it entered the new crafting chamber in the next village. Instantly, their ears were barraged by the screams and shouts of panicking villagers. Crafter and Hunter leapt out of their carts, waiting for the User-that-is-not-a-user, their eyes scanning the room for the threat that had all these people so terrified. Hunter had her bow out, an arrow already notched while Crafter had his sword drawn, a stern look on his young face.

  Leaping out of the minecart, Gameknight reluctantly drew his own sword and stood at Crafter’s side.

  Three villagers stepped forward. They glanced nervously at the gleaming weapons but when they noticed Crafter’s black smock with gray stripe, they seemed to relax. Seeing the trepidation in their eyes, Crafter sheathed his sword and spoke to the frightened villagers.

  “What’s going on here?”

  The three NPCs all started to speak hysterically to the young NPC. Their faces were creased with worry, a look of uncertainty and terror in their eyes.

  “Crafter?” he asked again.

  The young boy held up a hand to silence the User-that-is-not-a-user for a moment while he listened to the three villagers. When they finally finished, Crafter turned to his friend.

  “The village, it’s under attack,” he said.

  Gameknight’s fear reared its ugly head as he looked around, but he saw no monsters. Confused, he looked back at his friend.

  “Up there!” Hunter snapped, pointing up at the rocky ceiling while she rolled her eyes.

  “But it’s morning, how could they . . .”

  “They tell me that it’s the creatures of the Nether attacking. They must not be as sensitive to daytime as the mobs of the Overworld,” Crafter explained. “Apparently they can suffer the sunlight without any ill effects.”

  Malacoda, Gameknight thought.

  “One of the villagers came down and told the village crafter that they’d just seen blazes approaching the village,” Crafter explained. “They haven’t gotten here yet, but they will be here soon. The destruction of this village is inevitable. We must do something. They need the User-that-is-not-a-user. They need you.”

  Gameknight looked back at Crafter, a thousand questions tumbling around in his head, doubt filling his soul.

  What can I do? I’m terrified.

  He didn’t want to face a bunch of Nether creatures. He wasn’t a hero. He was too scared to be a hero. But then a thought came to him . . . run away. They could run away, all of them, through the minecart network.

  Moving to a nearby crafting table, Gameknight999 jumped up on top of it and yelled for everyone’s attention. Crafter leaped up onto the adjacent table as well. The presence of a child clothed in a crafter’s robe with a sword in his hand drew everyone’s attention. Their panic was momentarily stifled as all eyes shifted to Crafter.

  “Listen, everyone, listen,” he shouted, holding his sword high up into the air. “The Final Battle is upon us. The legions of the Nether are about to fall upon your village and try to destroy everything you hold dear. But have hope. We have a weapon that they do not expect. We have with us the User-that-is-not-a-user. Listen to what he has to say and be calm.”

  He turned his head and looked at his friend, and the terrified villagers in the chamber turned their blocky gazes toward Gameknight. Looking up, they could see the glowing letters of his username floating above his head. Their eyes drifted up higher, looking for the server thread that was not there. And in that instant, fear momentarily faded away as they realized that the User-that-is-not-a-user was standing before them.

  Swallowing, Gameknight pushed down his fear and spoke to the crowd.

  “Here’s what you need to do if you want to survive. Half of you start making minecarts—lots of them. The other half of you must start crafting iron swords as fast as you can. You over there—” He pointed to a group of villagers clad in iron armor. “Go up to the surface, and tell everyone to come down here. Tell everyone to abandon their homes and get down here as fast as they can. They must leave all of their belongings. At this moment, right now, speed means survival. Now GO!”

  The villagers just stood there looking at him, clearly confused, but then a battle cry emanated from the entrance of the chamber, a cry filled with so much anger and hatred that it shocked everyone in the cavern. It was Hunter. She had a look of unbridled hatred on her face as she held her bow up into the air.

  “When the monsters reach your village, they will kill anyone that gets in their way as they did in my village,” she yelled down at the crowd. “I watched them kill my friends and neighbors, then level parts of our village to the ground just for fun. These Nether beasts will destroy until nothing is left to entertain them. I lost my village . . . my family . . . because we were not prepared. If you don’t want to lose what I lost, then listen to the User-that-is-not-a-user and do what he says.”

  And then she turned and left the chamber, heading for the tunnels that led to the surface, her bow held in one hand. Gameknight knew what she was leaving to do and hoped she would be safe. Her battle cry could then be heard echoing down the tunnels as she headed to the surface, a tint of violent rage to her voice.

  Her actions snapped the villagers into motion. The iron-clad villagers all sprinted up to the cavern entrance, while the crafters started banging out weapons and minecarts.

  Someone handed Gameknight some iron armor. He put it on quickly, then pulled out his pick. The cavern quickly filled with the clattering sounds of crafting as fifty NPCs all hammered out swords and minecarts. Moving from one bench to the next, Gameknight shattered their crafting benches, freeing their hands. Each villager looked down at their newly freed hands in wonder, then gazed up into the eyes of the User-that-is-not-a-user and smiled. He released the hands of NPC after NPC. Those that were freed moved to a vacant crafting bench and continued to make swords, the sharp weapons quickly cluttering the floors. Some of the villagers, when they’d expended their raw materials, picked up a sword and stood at Gameknight’s side, a grim look of determination on their blocky faces.

  Crafter helped the others to create minecarts, pushing the newly crafted vehicles across the rails to be lined up at the tunnel openings, ready for the flow of villagers that were on their way. Once the minecarts were ready, Gameknight freed the hands of the remaining crafters, giving each a sword. His own golden sword drew many curious gazes, but none complained when he gave them an order to quiet down and listen to Crafter.

  “We must delay the monsters, so that the villagers can escape through the tunnels,” Crafter explained. “But first and foremost, where is your village’s crafter?”

  An old, gray-haired NPC, clothed like Crafter, stepped forward. Worried lines creased his face.

  “I am here,” he said with a scratchy voice.

  “Excellent,” Crafter said. “These monsters are coming here to take you. They don’t care about the villagers, but they will kill everyone here to get to you. We must deny the monsters their prize. You must leave through the minecart network, now, before it is too late.”

  “Leave my village? Never,” he protested.

  “Listen to Crafter!” Gameknight snapped.

  The village crafter looked up at the letters that floated above Gameknight’s head, then shifted his gaze to the ceiling. He could see that this was a user, but there was no server thread reaching up into the heavens, connecting him to the Source.

  “You are truly the User-that-is-not-a-user,” the crafter said in a low voice.

  Gameknight999 nodded, then stepped forward to put a reassuring hand on the old NPC’s shoulder. “You must listen to my friend,” he explained. “I know
he looks like a child, but he is a crafter like yourself. We came to this server from another plane, where we battled the monsters that seek to destroy the Source. The battle continues here, on this server, and for some reason, these monsters are moving across Minecraft, capturing crafters. We must not let them take you. You must listen to him.”

  The old NPC looked at him, his worried eyes boring deeply into Gameknight’s. He then looked about the cavern at his villagers, scanning every terrified face. Finally, he brought his stare back to Gameknight.

  “Don’t worry friend,” Gameknight said reassuringly. “We will care for you village and do the best we can.”

  The old NPC nodded at him, then turned his gaze toward Crafter, nodding at him as well.

  “Quickly, you must leave now,” Crafter said. “We know these monsters are here for you, and we must not let you be captured. I don’t know why they need you, but we must resist them at every opportunity. You must leave now.”

  “But if I leave my village, these NPCs will become Lost. It will force them to leave this village and look for another. Many will not survive this journey.”

  “The User-that-is-not-a-user and I will not let that happen,” Crafter explained. “These villagers will soon be following you in minecarts. We will not let them become Lost.” Reaching up, he put his small, child-like hand on the crafter’s shoulder. “Beside, if they do become Lost, then I will take them into my village. I will accept all Lost ones and keep them safe. You need not worry, your villagers are in good hands.”

  The worry faded from the old crafter’s face as he nodded to the duo. Moving to a minecart, the old NPC stood next to it, clearly still feeling concerned.

  Suddenly, loud noises filtered down into the cavern from the tunnel entrance. It sounded like a huge group of creatures—NPCs or monsters—were moving through the tunnels and headed their way. Gameknight and Crafter turned and looked up at the iron doors that now stood open.

  “All of you to the entrance, we must buy your crafter some time,” Crafter ordered to those in the cavern that now held swords. He then turned and faced the old NPC. “My fellow crafter, you must leave, now.”

  And then, Crafter turned and headed up the steps to the entrance of the cavern. Gameknight turned and watched his friend as he led their forces to the cavern doors, then disappeared as they headed into the tunnels. He was so brave. Gameknight wished he had even the smallest sliver of Crafter’s courage. Right now, he felt like a container overflowing with fear.

  Turning, he saw the village crafter slowly climb into the minecart. The old NPC took one more look at his precious villagers as they charged up the stairway to face the threat that was descending upon them. Then he turned and faced Gameknight.

  “Take care of them for me,” the crafter said, tears streaming down his face.

  “Don’t worry, we will do what we can. You will be with them soon, but you must go now or they’ll catch you, and we can’t allow that.”

  The crafter nodded, then moved off down the minecart rails, disappearing into the tunnel’s darkness. Malacoda had been denied his prize, but there was still one more crafter here. His Crafter.

  Turning toward the cavern entrance, Gameknight charged up the steps, hoping to reach Crafter, then escape. At the top, he sprinted through the open iron doors and entered the large, round room, identical to the one where he had first met Crafter. It was crowded with armed NPCs, the torches on the walls casting pointed shadows on the ground because of upheld swords. Crafter and the village NPCs, now soldiers, stood ready. Gameknight could taste the fear in the room; the first battle was always the most terrifying. But he knew that the NPCs were not nearly as terrified as himself. He could already see the pointed claws of the zombies reaching out at him through his imagination, the fireballs of blazes seeking his flesh. He shivered.

  Moving to Crafter’s side, he whispered into his ear. “The village’s crafter is safely away, but we have to get you out of here as well. Malacoda can still use you for whatever he is planning. We have to escape before it is too late.”

  “Not until we help the other villagers get out,” Crafter said, courage resonating in his voice. “We don’t know what that ghast will do when he finds the crafter gone. He may kill everyone that stays behind. We must help them.”

  Gameknight leaned in closer. “Crafter, this isn’t our battle,” he whispered.

  “What are you talking about?” Crafter snapped, moving back a step. “All of this is our battle. This entire world is our battle. We’re here to stop these monsters and save Minecraft, and anything we can do to resist Malacoda’s plans is our battle. Now draw your sword and get ready.”

  Crafter’s admonishment shamed him into drawing his weapon. Gameknight was terrified at the thought of facing off against the monsters of the Nether, but he was even more frightened of failing his friend. Standing with the defenders of this village, he waited.

  I hate being this afraid, he thought to himself. I hate it! Why can’t I stand tall and be brave like Crafter?

  The shame of his cowardice chipped away at him from within, his fear wrapping around his soul like a hungry viper, ready to strike.

  Come on Gameknight, get with it! he screamed at himself, his thoughts sounding mockingly pathetic. Frustration started to grow within him.

  He was so scared.

  Come on, stand tall and be brave, he thought—no, pleaded . . . STAND TALL AND BE BRAVE!

  “STAND TALL AND BE BRAVE!!!”

  Oh no, did I say that aloud?

  A cheer rose from the NPCs as blocky hands patted him on the shoulders and back, the feeling of courage and bravery visible now on every face.

  “That’s right!” Crafter yelled. “Stand tall with the User-that-is-not-a-user and be brave. We will face these beasts and save your village!”

  Another cheer rose from the round room as the sounds from the tunnel before them started to get louder.

  Someone or something was coming.

  They could hear the shuffling feet as if only a few were coming, but then the noise became louder. The shuffling of many feet echoed down the tunnel.

  A lot of somethings were coming.

  Gameknight gripped his sword firmly and looked around the room. He could see the iron doors that led to the crafting chamber standing open. It took every ounce of strength for him to keep his feet still and not bolt toward those doors and run away.

  I hate being afraid!

  Gripping his sword even tighter, he turned back toward the tunnel and the approaching mass of bodies. They could now see shapes moving about in the tunnel—many of them—as the running figures approached the room.

  Would it be monsters . . . zombies and creepers and spiders?

  Just then, a crowd of villagers burst into the room, all of then sprinting, unibrows creased with worry. A relieved sigh filled the room. It wasn’t the monsters . . . not yet.

  “Quickly, follow the path down to the cavern floor,” Crafter directed. “Get into the minecarts and escape through the tunnels. There are enough for everyone . . . quickly now.”

  The villagers looked in surprise at the small boy who was talking, but the voice of command echoed within his words. Crafter moved forward so that they could see his clothing. They instantly recognized him as a crafter and did as he instructed. The flow of villagers was nearly constant, with parents leading children while neighbors helped the elderly and the sick. Everyone was running to the salvation below: the minecart network.

  Just then, the smell of smoke started to trickle down the entrance of the tunnel. At first, it was just a hint, like someone striking a match nearby, but then it grew stronger and stronger. Slowly, the tunnel filled with a smoky haze, the acrid aroma started to bite at the back of Gameknight’s throat with each terrified breath.

  The monsters . . . they were coming.

  The last of the villagers came running out of the tunnel covered in soot and ash, some of them with clothes partially burned.

  “They’re coming,”
one of them said in a terrified voice. “Blazes, lots of them.”

  “And ghasts and zombies and magma cubes,” another said. “There’re hundreds of them . . . maybe a thousand, and that lone woman holding them all back with her bow.”

  “Lone woman?” Crafter asked. “Who?”

  “I don’t know who she is,” the last villager said as she headed toward the stairway that led to the cavern floor. “I never saw a village woman with red hair like that, but she’s keeping the monsters from getting into the tower with her bow. When she runs out of arrows . . . she’s dead.”

  “You hear that?” Crafter said to Gameknight. “We have to help her. Come on everyone, the battle is up there.”

  And then Crafter charged forward through the smoke-filled tunnel to the ladder that led up to the surface, the other village soldiers following their young leader, leaving Gameknight standing there wrapped in fear.

  He wasn’t a hero. He was just a kid that liked to play Minecraft, but he couldn’t let his friend, his only friend on this server, Crafter, face this threat alone. He had to help him, even though fear blanketed his mind and the courage he’d felt on the last server was a distant memory. Moving toward the tunnel, he could hear the clash of swords echoing out of the tunnel . . . Crafter.

  Sprinting with all his might, he shot down the tunnel, through clouds of smoke that choked the passageway, his golden sword help up high. Ahead, he could see the flash of iron against gold; their soldiers were engaged with zombie-pigmen. Pushing through the crowd, he attacked a zombie, its rotten flesh hanging off its body in flaps, part of its skull and ribs exposed where skin was missing; it was an attractive target for his razor-sharp sword. This was something he’d done many times; sometimes he’d been fighting monsters, other times he’d been attacking other players. His cyber bullying history was not something he was proud of, but his experience served him well at the moment as he dodged attacks and drove his sword through zombie bodies. Gameknight999 had become a killing machine, acting without thought, his mind lost in the heat of battle. With practiced efficiency, he tore through the monsters, slashing his sword under armored plates and blocking lethal blows as he danced through the battle lines with a deadly grace.