Into the Spiders' Lair Page 14

  “Watcher, he’s gone.” Winger’s voice was filled with grief.

  He pushed her arms off him and stood up, his entire body tense. But then he glanced at the ground where Farmer had lain. Three balls of XP and the villager’s items floated on the ground, rising up and down silently, as if floating on some kind of magic carpet. Suddenly, he no longer had the strength to stand, and he collapsed to the ground.

  “Watcher!” Planter ran to his side, catching him before he hit the ground. She cradled him in her lap, holding him tightly.

  “Look around you, Planter . . . I did this.” He gestured to the piles of items that still floated off the ground. “These lives were my responsibility, and I failed them all.”

  “No, Watcher, we’re all in this together.”

  “But I’m the one who’s supposed to be in command. It’s my job to keep everyone safe. Cutter did it when he was in command, but he gave that job to me . . . I don’t know why.”

  “Watcher, you’ve been a pain in the neck since we left the savanna. I don’t know what’s wrong, and honestly, I don’t really care.” Cutter glared down at the boy, but then his gaze softened and grew compassionate. “I gave you the job of commander because I believe in you.” Cutter’s voice was unusually gentle. “I’ve been a soldier all my life, and I know a commander, a real commander, when I see one . . . and you’re that person.”

  “But . . . you’ve been so mad at me. I thought you hated me because of . . .” Watcher glanced at Planter but never finished the statement. She didn’t seem to notice.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, I don’t hate you.” Cutter rolled his eyes. “I was just mad at you because you weren’t being the leader I knew you could be. Instead, you were getting sidetracked by petty arguments and insecurities instead of doing what you do best, and that’s lead.”

  “But look around, I got all these people killed.”

  “No!” Planter’s voice was strong, almost angry. “You saved all these people with that horse and enchanted weapon. You destroyed half the spiders all by yourself. If you hadn’t charged into battle like you did, we’d all be gone.”

  Watcher stood, then sighed and shook his head.

  “She’s right, son,” Cleric said reassuringly. “You saved us all.”

  “But what do we do now?” Watcher’s eyes were pleading for help.

  “We continue.” Cleric’s voice was sympathetic, but strong. “That spider warlord said something about helping the wither king, and we know he’s up to no good. We must find out what he wants with those witches, and don’t forget that Fencer still needs us. They’re probably able to keep her alive with the potions of healing, but just barely. No one knows how long she’ll last.”

  Watcher sighed, then thought about the flail. That magical weapon had forced him to confront his failure at protecting Saddler from the spiders, and now Farmer, too. What was it Farmer was trying to tell me at the end? Why do we fail? So we can . . . what?

  Watcher felt as if this was something he needed to understand, but he wasn’t sure what Farmer had been trying to tell him.

  “We need to get moving before the spiders return.” Planter’s voice was like a soothing balm to Watcher’s emotions. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and weep, but he still wasn’t sure if she knew how he felt, or what she felt about him. Confronting her about his emotions was just as scary as facing off against the spider warlord.

  Defeats are a chance to learn . . . Farmer’s voice echoed in his mind. Defeats are a chance to learn, not a reason to give up. Watcher could feel the truth in these words.

  He drew the flail from his inventory and grasped the handle. The magical enchantment dug into his health, causing pain to radiate throughout his body, but he didn’t care.

  “Watcher, what are you doing?” Planter said.

  Others called to him as well, but he shut them all out. Instead, he listened to the magical weapon. It whispered its name to him: the Flail of Regrets. And in that moment, the images of Farmer and Saddler filled his mind. The weapon drove his emotions to the forefront of his mind, making him feel responsible for all the deaths of the day.

  Why do we fail, so we can . . . learn, but learn what?

  The Flail of Regrets projected images of his village, burned to the ground by the skeleton warlord weeks ago. The responsibility of it wrapped around him like a leaden cloak, but he refused to give up. Why do we fail, so we can learn to . . . what was Farmer trying to tell him?

  Images of NPCs captured by the zombie warlord months ago filled his mind. They toiled in the mines, digging up gold for the king of the withers, and many died in those dark and gloomy passages, suffering terrible beatings by their zombie guards. If Watcher had freed them sooner, then maybe some of them would have survived.

  The Flail of Regrets stabbed at his HP, agony blazing through every nerve. He felt Cleric’s hand on his arm. It gave little relief, but the sorrow for those poor NPCs surged through his mind. Why do we fail, so we can learn . . . It was on the tip of his tongue, he almost understood, but . . .

  More pain blasted through his body. A liquid splashed across his back, rejuvenating some of his health, but not enough to fully counteract the effects of the flail. This was a powerful weapon, a demanding weapon, and Watcher felt he had to control it, or they would be lost.

  Why do we fail, so we can learn to . . . and then he felt Planter’s gentle touch on his square cheek.

  I can feel the answer, just at the edges of my mind . . . but he couldn’t reach it.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” Watcher whispered, his health waning. “But I’ll try to figure it out. I won’t give up . . . I promise.”

  His words, spoken truthfully, seemed to bring some relief to his regrets. It seemed to bond him to the flail, allowing the magical enchantment from the weapon to flow into his body instead of attacking his mind. Images flashed through his brain at an unbelievably fast rate. Normally, he wouldn’t have been able to understand them, but the flail was teaching him, and those lessons were now and forever part of his memory. His skin gave off an iridescent purple glow as the magic from the flail merged with his own XP, causing all the other villagers to step back . . . except for Planter.

  He opened his eyes and smiled at her. “Why do we fail? Farmer was trying to tell me something.”

  “What are you talking about?” Planter asked, confused.

  “I don’t understand it yet, but I know I will . . . soon.” Confidence seemed to fill the boy as the truth of the words permeated his soul. “I will understand soon, Farmer; this is my pledge.”

  Watcher glanced at the place where Farmer died, then raised his hand high into the air, fingers spread wide. I won’t forget you, Farmer! He shouted his thoughts out into the fabric of Minecraft, and somehow, Watcher thought he could feel the fabric smile back.

  “It’s time we stopped being afraid. No, it’s time I stopped being afraid.” His gaze found Cutter, and he saw that the big NPC was as confused as the other villagers. “I’m sorry I’ve been a pain in the neck. I’ve mistreated you because of my own insecurities, and that wasn’t fair. I’ve yelled at you and treated you like an enemy because I was afraid of losing something.” He glanced at Planter, then brought his gaze back to the big warrior. “But I know now, I must let things play out the way they’re meant to, and let everyone make their own choices.” He wanted to look at Planter again, but didn’t dare. “You’re my friend and I want it to stay that way, no matter what.”

  “Really have no idea what you’re talking about, but I never stopped being your friend,” Cutter said as he slapped the boy on the back, almost knocking him down. “If you think you can get rid of me by just being a jerk, then you don’t know me at all.”

  Watcher smiled and nodded. “Then it’s time for us to do something.”

  “What’s on your mind?” the big warrior asked.

  “It’s time we brought the pain to the spiders.” Watcher’s voice grew a little louder. “I’m tired of being a
mbushed by these spiders. I’m tired of being afraid they’ll jump out of the shadows, and I’m tired of seeing our friends being injured or killed by these monsters. It’s time this stopped . . . NOW!”

  “Alright!” Cutter smiled. “That’s our leader . . . Watcher the Wizard!” He raised his diamond sword high over his head, causing the other NPCs to cheer.

  As the villagers shouted, Watcher thought about the images the flail had shown him, then smiled at the big warrior.

  “First, we need to collect a few artifacts, and we also need what we came for.” He took Planter by the hand and led her to the wall of dispensers. “These will only work for each of you once.” Watcher whistled, bringing his mount to his side. “I already have my horse. Everyone else needs one.”

  “But how do we get out of here?” Blaster asked.

  Watcher closed his eyes for a moment and played back the many images the Flail had put in his mind. “There’s a portal in the building next to this one.”

  “How do you know that?” Blaster sounded skeptical.

  “The Flail of Regret showed me.” Watcher held the weapon in the air, then put it in his inventory.

  Moving to where Needle lay on the ground, he bent over and retrieved the blade and his shield, then jumped on the back of his horse and moved to the building’s entrance. The sky overhead was blushing a soft crimson as the stars faded from sight, the sun beginning its climb into the sky.

  “It’s time to ride.” Watcher glanced down at the spot where Farmer had died. “Defeats are a chance to learn,” he said in a soft voice, a single square tear tumbling down his cheek. “I won’t forget, Farmer, I promise you that.”

  The sound of whinnying horses filled the air as each villager, one at a time, stepped on a pressure plate and collected their mounts. He urged his own horse forward, then headed out of the building and toward the portal that would take him from the Citadel of the Horse Lord and closer to the lair of the spider warlord.

  “How many made it out of that cactusss foressst?” Shakaar paced back and forth amidst the tall sunflowers.

  “Almossst all ssspidersss were quick enough to run acrosss the blocksss of ssspiderweb we put on top of the cacti. Mossst made it across the websss before the cubesss broke, without taking too much damage.” The spider general took a step back, out of reach of the warlord’s claws.

  “But fifty of my sssissstersss perished. FIFTY!” Shakaar slashed angrily at a nearby flower, shredding it in seconds. “That boy-wizard cossst usss many sssisssters. He mussst be dessstroyed.”

  “Yesss, warlord.” The general backed away more.

  “Relax, general, you are sssafe.” The spider warlord moved closer to her commander. “I may get angry, but I would not vent my anger on a sssissster general like youssself. You are far too important to our plansss.”

  “Thank you, warlord,” the general said, her body finally relaxing.

  “The ssspidersss have resssted enough. We mussst keep moving.” Shakaar gave off a loud screech, getting her warriors’ attention. “Everyone, back to the lair. We mussst move quickly.”

  The spiders all stopped basking in the light from the noon sun, their HP now recharged. They had walked all through the morning, trying to escape the oppressive heat of the desert. When the sun neared its zenith, they’d finally left the baked landscape and entered a narrow strip formed from a sunflower plains biome. But now their rest was over. The spider army stood and scurried through the cool landscape, the tall yellow flowers getting trampled by fuzzy black bodies as they headed for their distant spiders’ lair,

  “Warlord, do you have a plan for the villagersss?” the general asked.

  “Yesss, general, I have been consssidering what we will do to that wizard.”

  Shakaar stepped out of the sunflower plains and into the next biome. It was a mountainous landscape with steep hills jutting up from the grass-covered ground. Flowers of every color imaginable covered the ground, the perfumed air making Shakaar slightly sick.

  “Sssoon, we will passs by a zombie-town and a ssskeleton-town. You will sssend my sssissstersss to them and order them to help usss.” Shakaar’s eyes glowed bright.

  “But what if they refussse?”

  “You will have the king of the withersss, Krael, with you.” Shakaar pulled out the enchanted Eye of Searching. She slowed to put the enchanted artifact over one eye, then adjusted the strap around the back of her head, and instantly, the spider warlord flashed red as the magical device drew on her HP for power. Concentrating on her target, an image of Krael burst into Shakaar’s mind. Instantly, she felt the cold and dangerous presence of the wither king in the back of her head.

  “Krael, we found the wizard,” Shakaar said aloud, her thoughts echoing in the dark monster’s three heads. “We need your help.”

  I will be there soon. The wither’s thoughts echoed through the spider, causing a strange chill to settle across her body.

  Reaching up, she removed the ancient relic before it took more of her health and put it back into her inventory.

  “The wither king will be with you to encourage the zombiesss and ssskeletonsss to help.” Shakaar smiled. “If they disssobey, then you’ll get to sssee Krael’s flaming ssskullsss in action.”

  The spider general nodded, her eight eyes burning bright red with excitement.

  “We will sssend groupsss of ssspiderssss and zombiessss and ssskeletonssss from all across the Far Landsss in sssearch of thisss wizard.” Shakaar smiled and clicked her mandibles together. “They will harasss them by attacking at every opportunity, slowly decreasssing their numbers. When we finally meet the villagersss in battle, their forcesss will be pathetic compared to our ssspider army.” She laughed. “Sssoon, we will sssee thisss boy-wizard begging for mercy, then we will dessstroy him.”

  Her eyes gave off a brilliant red glow as she clicked her mandibles together and the rest of the spiders joined in, filling the air with their excitement and thirst for destruction.

  Watcher stood next to his horse, waiting impatiently for the other villagers to get their own mounts, as well as repair cracked and dented armor and eat so their HP would be replenished. The horse nuzzled his neck with a cold and wet nose. Reaching up, he scratched the animal’s ear, the mare leaning into the caress.

  He turned and gazed at the portal. When Watcher had first come into this second building, the blocks making up the portal had been dark, as if asleep. But when he drew closer, the strange cubes began to glow from within, giving off a pale bluish-white hue. The edges of each bright cube were trimmed with a thin border of sea-foam green. It reminded him, for some reason, of the ocean . . . strange.

  Within the ring of glowing blocks, a sparkling silver translucent field now undulated and pulsed with magical power. It seemed to sense Watcher’s approach, for it had grown brighter the closer he’d gotten, until he could no longer see through it. In fact, Watcher could now see his reflection as if he were staring into a mirror. It was then that he noticed his hands were sparkling with a subtly iridescent purple glow.

  Before he had a chance to investigate further, the other villagers began filing into the portal room behind him, each on their new mounts, the horses filling them with a new sense of courage.

  “These horses will, for the first time, let us move faster than the spiders.” Watcher’s voice filled the stone-lined structure, reflecting off the mossy brick and echoing back from all sides. The portal reacted to his voice, bulging outward as if were trying to reach out and grab him.

  “Any idea where this portal leads?” Planter asked.

  Watcher shook his head. “The Flail of Regret showed me this portal, as well as some other things I don’t fully understand. All I know is that our path leads through this portal.”

  He turned in the saddle and smiled. Planter’s blond hair glowed in the harsh light of the portal, appearing as if it were somehow electrified and giving off its own light. Overcome by her beauty, all he could do was gaze at her, transfixed. He felt like he ne
eded to say something to her. He’d mistreated Planter as well when his jealousy over Cutter had flared, but Watcher didn’t know what to say to apologize. He didn’t even know how she felt. Maybe I should tell her that I—

  “Watcher . . . you’re glowing.” Planter pointed to his arms.

  His thoughts interrupted, Watcher glanced down at his hands and remembered the faint purple light wrapping around them like velvet gloves.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “What does it mean?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.” Watcher shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, but actually, he was a little afraid. Have I been infected, somehow, by that flail? What’s happening to me? The urge to pull out the flail was great, but Watcher resisted and kept his hands on the reins.

  Staring out at the sea of mounted villagers, he could tell they were nervous, but willing to follow him. Many glanced at Watcher’s glowing hands, but instead of being afraid of him, they seemed proud of his affliction, as if the magic that had leaked into his body might somehow save them, so they could save Fencer. Watcher wasn’t convinced.

  This unexpected gift could be a curse, he thought, but he knew it was too late. The die had been cast, and now all they could do was wait to see where they landed.

  “Let’s get this party started!” Blaster shouted from the back. “I need some spider’s silk and maybe a few spider eyes, and I only know one way of getting them: by destroying spiders!”

  Many of the villagers chuckled, their laughter breaking the tension.

  “Here we go.” Watcher urged his horse forward.

  He rode through the portal, the silvery membrane bulging outward to envelop him in its magical grasp. A tingling sensation spread across his skin as he passed through the field, and then suddenly, he was out of the Citadel of the Horse Lords and in the middle of a birch forest.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Planter appear out of thin air, followed by Winger, then Cleric, then the rest of the army. Each time another NPC passed through the portal and emerged, the horse and rider were surrounded by a dusting of silver sparkles that clung to their skin for just a moment as they fully materialized.