Saving Crafter, page 13
“So this is the place where the Maker was captured,” a scratchy voice said from behind.
Looking to his side, he found Morgana walking next to him.
“Yep,” Gameknight answered. “There were hundreds and hundreds of monsters lined up over there,” he pointed to the edge of the birch forest, “an army of users positioned off to the left, over there, and the villagers behind fortifications right where we are standing. The painted zombies and iron golems came out of the forest from the right.”
“I’m surprised anyone survived,” she croaked. “Usually, when a lot of people come together with weapons in their hands, the only outcome is mutual destruction. What stopped the carnage?”
“I battled Herobrine, and with my friends’ help, we trapped him in the pig-body,” Gameknight explained as they walked toward the massive mound. “Once the monsters saw their Maker captured, they realized that nothing good was going to come from continuing the fight. They just left.”
“And now they think you’ve killed their Maker and want revenge?” Morgana asked.
“Something like that,” the User-that-is-not-a-user replied.
“You users and NPCs seem to always be battling something in Minecraft. I don’t understand why you can’t just live in peace like the witches,” Morgana said.
“But you live alone, isolated from everyone else,” Gameknight said. “You are at peace because there is no one else around.”
“I did not choose to be alone,” she snapped. “The villagers chased me away; they don’t trust me.”
“Maybe because you throw poison at them.”
“They started it first!”
“Hmmm, it doesn’t seem as though your life is as peaceful as you suggest,” Monkeypants added from behind.
Morgana turned and glared at him, Herder at the monkey’s side.
“Sometimes misunderstanding grows and festers when not dealt with and becomes a bigger problem,” Monkeypants said. “Maybe a peaceful dialogue would help.”
“Witches cannot talk with villagers,” Morgana growled. “Just like the User-that-is-not-a-user cannot talk to the monsters—there is no common ground.”
“Hmmm,” Gameknight said, considering her word. “But when—”
Suddenly, a howling sound came from the woods—wolves. Herder looked at Gameknight, a skeleton bone in his hand. The lanky boy had to leave his wolves back in the swamp since they could not ride in the minecarts.
“You know we’ll need to take the minecarts again,” Gameknight said.
Herder nodded.
“This village needs a pack of wolves to help protect it,” the NPC said.
“OK, but be quick,” Gameknight said. “We need to get out of here as quickly as possible. I don’t know how long the potion is going to last for Crafter.”
Herder nodded again, this time his long black hair flinging over his face. Pulling the locks from his eyes, he bolted off into the forest, a skeleton bone held in each hand.
“That boy loves his wolves,” Hunter said next to him.
Gameknight nodded.
Off to the right, corrals and animal pens held the village’s livestock: cows, chickens, and sheep. With a grin on his face, Grassbrin approached the pens and gently petted one of the cows. He then knelt and stuck his glowing hands into the ground. Instantly, grass sprouted out of the ground beneath the animals. Eagerly, they munched on the thick blades as Grassbrin smiled. Looking back at Gameknight, the light-crafter gave him a nod, then caused the grass to grow even longer. Near the edge of the forest, Treebrin did the same, causing trees to sprout up out of the ground, replenishing the woodland for the village. The two crafters looked to be in joyful bliss when they cared for the grass and trees of Minecraft; it was their task and sole reason for their existence. They had no responsibilities other than creating life.
Gameknight envied them.
He wished he had such clarity of purpose, for he was conflicted. He wanted his dad home and with him, but he really didn’t want him in Minecraft; they were two opposing sides of the same coin. He wanted to be treated with more respect, like a big kid, but he also hated all the responsibility that was heaped upon him as the User-that-is-not-a-user. There had been a time when he had no responsibilities; he could just be himself and play, but that had been his child-self. Now, he wanted to be more, but missed the child he used to be. All of these aspects battled with each other like a philosophical tug-of-war continually happening in his mind.
Suddenly, Crafter was at his side. He looked terrible. Gameknight could see that his skin was starting to lose some of its color, the rosy red cheeks fading to a pale, almost ashen look. Stitcher appeared out of nowhere and put an arm through Crafter’s, offering a little support; he did not object.
“OK, I explained to the village’s crafter what we are doing,” Crafter explained. He paused to take a breath, then continued. “He’s notified the archers to hold their fire so that we can get in there and retrieve Herobrine.” He looked around at their companions, then back at Gameknight999. “Where’s Herder?”
“He went into the woods to get some wolves for the village,” the User-that-is-not-a-user explained.
“We need him to get the pig out of that mountain,” Crafter explained. He paused again for a breath. “He’s the best person to take charge of the animal.”
Gameknight nodded.
“I’ll go get him,” Hunter said as she ran off into the birch forest.
“It’s not a good idea for her to go out there on her own,” Stitcher said. “Monkeypants, come help with Crafter.”
Gameknight’s father moved to Crafter’s side, helping support the young NPC, allowing Stitcher to run off and help her sister. As she streaked away, Digger moved toward the large pile of blocks, his big pickaxe in his hands. Swinging it with all his might, he started to tunnel his way to the center of the pile. A couple of villagers moved in to help. They weren’t really sure where Herobrine’s prison was under all those blocks, so the three of them dug parallel tunnels a few blocks apart, hoping one of them would find the cobblestone chamber that lay buried under the monument.
While they dug, Gameknight could see Hunter and Stitcher emerging from the forest with Herder between them. A line of eight wolves followed the trio, each of them with a red collar around their necks. This signified that they’d been tamed and were now friendly. As they approached, Herder leaned down to the largest of the wolves and spoke a single word.
“Protect.”
Instantly, the wolves ran off, placing themselves around the village, their tiny eyes scanning the terrain for monsters.
Suddenly, one of the villagers emerged from the narrow tunnel, his eyes bright with excitement.
“We found it!” he exclaimed. “Does someone have a rope?”
“Herder, go bring him out,” Gameknight said.
The boy looked up at the User-that-is-not-a-user with fear in his eyes.
“You’re the best with animals; you have to do this,” Gameknight said. “I know you’re afraid but I have faith in you.”
This brought the faintest of smiles to Herder’s face, but he was still afraid.
“Come on, I’ll go with you,” Gameknight999 added. “We can do this together, I know we can. Are you ready?”
Herder looked nervously at Crafter and Monkeypants, then back to Gameknight999 and nodded his head.
“Let do this,” Herder said, standing a little taller as he pulled out a rope and headed for the pile of blocks.
Gameknight ran right next to him, then followed him into the tunnel. It was a narrow passage, only one block wide and two blocks high. Torches had been placed on the walls, offering a small amount of light. This lit the multicolored corridor with a golden hue that allowed Gameknight to see all the different blocks that made up the monument to the Last Battle. NPCs from all over Minecraft must have come to place these blocks. The walls of the passage were like the inside of a kaleidescope, with netherrack, End Stone, stained clay, red sand—every possible block from every possible biome making up these prison walls. It was amazing.
At the end of the tunnel, Gameknight could see shapes moving in the dim light. Reaching for his sword, he was ready to draw it, though he knew it would be useless against the Herobrine-pig. If anyone had to kill the pig, then they’d likely be infected by his evil XP, and they would turn into Herobrine. So hurting the pig at all was out of the question. They had to protect the pig until they could get it to The End.
“Herder, Gameknight, here!” Digger’s voice boomed through the tunnel.
As they neared, Gameknight could see that they’d cleared out a large chamber around a small cobblestone structure. It was the prison that Digger had built just after they’d captured Herobrine with the pig.
“Herder, you ready?” Gameknight asked.
The lanky boy nodded his head, the rope held out in front of him.
“OK,” Gameknight said, “let’s open it up. Be careful not to hit the pig. He’ll likely try to get himself killed if possible.”
“Understood,” Digger said, then turned and faced the other villager. “Use a wooden shovel on that end of the enclosure. He’ll think we’re digging through there and move to that end.”
The villager nodded and pulled out the tool. He started digging into the cobblestone with the shovel. Of course it was doing almost nothing. After a few hits, Digger moved to the opposite end and quickly smashed through the blocks with his iron pickaxe. As the wall crumbled away, Herder leapt forward and threw the line around the pig’s neck before it knew what was happening.
As Herder pulled the pig out of its cobblestone prison, Gameknight was shocked at what he saw. The tiny little pig had piercing bright glowing eyes that lit the chamber like it was noon on a cloudless day. The pig looked up at Gameknight999, then made some angry pig noises and charged, its blunt grass-eating teeth snapping together as if it wanted to kill the User-that-is-not-a-user right at that moment.
Herder pulled back on the line, keeping the little pink animal away from Gameknight, pulling it back to his side.
“It’s OK, little fella,” Herder said as he reached down to pet him on the head.
With lightning speed, the pig turned its head and snapped at Herder’s hand, clamping down on a square finger. Herder yelled out in pain, but did not let go of the rope. Reaching into his inventory, Herder pulled out another rope and attached it to Herobrine’s neck, then tossed the free end to Digger. Slowly, they led the pig out through the tunnels, with Herder pulling the creature forward and Digger keeping tension at the back so that Herobrine could not get to either of them.
As they emerged from the tunnels, Gameknight was surprised to find the entire village standing around the edge of the monument. They all gasped when they saw the glowing eyes of the pig. Many villagers reached for their weapons, but the village’s crafter kept the NPCs calm.
Moving Herobrine carefully through the streets, they headed for the secret tunnel that led to the crafting chamber. As they walked, a strange cold feeling moved through the village. It felt to Gameknight like a chilling breeze, as if tiny shards of ice were poking at him, but the sensation was not on his skin—it was coming from within.
The shadow, Gameknight thought.
“Crafter, quickly, get on a stack of blocks!” Gameknight shouted.
“Just do it!”
Confused, Crafter leapt up into the air and placed a block of dirt under him.
“Higher, go higher—as high as you can,” Gameknight exclaimed.
“What are you doing?” Hunter asked.
“The shadow of evil is coming,” Gameknight said, his voice filled with fear. “Crafter, go higher!”
Crafter went up another four blocks, then stopped. He was eight blocks up in the air.
I hope this works.
He knew in his weakened condition, Crafter might not survive another attack and Herobrine certainly knew where they were.
Just then, a shadow moved at the edges of his vision. It was twice the size as it had been on the edge of the swamp. Moving along a jagged path, it stabbed up at as many villagers as it could while it closed on their position.
Pulling out his shovel, Gameknight broke the blocks out from under Crafter, while the ground on which Crafter stood stayed in place. The block of dirt hovered there, floating on air with Crafter safely held aloft. Working with a fury, Gameknight dug out the dirt beneath his friend, quickly moving him even farther up and away from the surface of Minecraft.
And then suddenly Gameknight’s nerves were aflame with pain as the shadow of evil enveloped the ground beneath him. Waves of agony flowed through him, causing his legs to fail. He started to crumble to the ground, but someone reached out and caught him as he fell, lifting him high in the air as they ran for safety. Looking down, Gameknight realized it was his dad who was holding him high over his head. The shadow of evil was stabbing up at Monkeypants with its dark jagged shadows as he ran, trying to reach Gameknight999. His monkey face flashed red as Herobrine tore into his HP, his teeth gritting with pain, but his father did not stop. He ran to the left, then right, then left again as he evaded the specter. Losing interest in Monkeypants and his son, the shadow moved back to its intended target, Crafter, but he was too high up in the air.
The shadow shot erratically to a nearby house and moved up the wooden wall. It reached out for Crafter from the side of the house, its jagged shards of evil extending like a nest of writhing sinister snakes, but again the NPC was out of reach. Moving off, it sought other victims.
Gameknight looked down at Herobrine-pig and could see the animal smile cruelly as it watched the shadow move from companion to companion, stabbing at them with his hatred. The pig’s eyes glowed bright with evil glee as he heard the screams of NPCs echo across the landscape.
And then suddenly, the shadow evaporated into nothing—it was over.
Gameknight glanced at the pig and could see that Herobrine was tired; he’d exhausted all of his evil powers—good.
“Quickly, Dad, put me down,” Gameknight said.
His father slowly lowered him to the ground.
“Are you OK?” Gameknight asked.
Monkeypants wiped is sweat-covered brow and nodded.
“Yeah,” his father replied. “No big deal.”
“It is a big deal. I’ve had that thing attack me and I know how much it hurts, so thanks. Now you need to eat something so your HP will get replenished—here.”
Gameknight offered him an apple and the monkey happily accepted. His father ate it in a few quick bites and color and health returned to his face.
Sprinting to Crafter, Gameknight built a set of steps out of dirt, allowing his friend to climb down from his perch. When he reached the ground, Morgana moved to his side. Placing a hand on his square forehead, she felt his temperature then pulled out a flask of blue liquid and held it to his lips. Crafter drank slowly at first, but quickly gulped down the potion. Color blossomed in his cheeks again, but just faintly.
Morgana looked at Gameknight, and he could tell that she was worried.
“What is it?” he asked.
“The shadow grows stronger, we must hurry,” she said and headed for the cobblestone watchtower.
“Come on, everyone, to the crafting chamber.”
Gameknight reached down, scooped up Crafter, and carried him as he ran.
“I don’t need to be carried. I’m older than you are. This is ridiculous.”
“Be quiet and let your friends help you,” Gameknight snapped.
Crafter stopped his complaining, but a scowl remained on his brow.
They moved quickly to the watchtower, then through the tunnels to the crafting chamber. When they reached the minecart tracks, each of the companions grabbed a minecart. Gameknight watched as Herder took out another length of rope and wrapped it around the pig’s nose and mouth, making it impossible for the animal to bite anyone. He then picked up the animal as it squirmed in his arms.
“You won’t get away from me, Mr. Pig,” Herder said. “I’ve held onto many an animal in my days and you are nothing compared to an injured wolf with a fever, so just stop your wiggling and do as you’re told.”
He flicked one of the pig’s soft, velvety ears. It winced but stopped its struggles.
Carefully, Gameknight put Crafter on the ground.
“OK, where do we need to go to get to The End?” Gameknight asked his friend.
“We need to get to the stronghold in the ice—ice spikes—biome …”
“Crafter, are you all right?” Stitcher asked. “You look pale.”
Gameknight looked down at his friend and could see that most of the color had already drained from his face and a ghost-like hue covered his skin.
“We just … just have to pick the … pick the right track to … to get to that …”
And then Crafter collapsed, unconscious.
“CRAFTER!” Gameknight screamed as he reached out and caught him just before he hit the ground. “Morgana, please, help me.”
The witch came to Gameknight’s side and looked into Crafter’s face. She pulled the bottle of sparkling black liquid from her smock and uncorked it. Pouring half the remaining liquid into Crafter’s mouth, she put the bottle away and placed a wrinkled hand on his pale brow. Slowly, color flowed back to his cheeks and face, then his eyes fluttered open. Gameknight looked down on his friend and smiled and then glanced at Morgana.
“Thank you, Morgana. You saved him,” he said.
“I saved him for now,” the old witch said. “There is enough for one more treatment, then he will have to face the shadow of evil on his own.”
“Can’t you make more?” Hunter asked.
“I used up the most critical ingredient, essence of endermen,” Morgana explained. “It took me years to acquire what I had. I cannot make more elixir. We must be quick. There are still a few tricks I have that may be of use, but you must remember our bargain if you want me to continue with this journey.”
“Yes, I remember it, witch,” Hunter snapped. “You’re going to ask for payment later. I get it. Let’s just get this done. If we can get rid of Herobrine, then it will be worth any price.”
