Bones of Doom: The Rise of the Warlords Book Two: An Unofficial Minecrafter's Adventure
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About this ebook
Mark Cheverton
Mark Cheverton was a high school math and physics teacher for fifteen years. He then moved into industry, working for another decade and a half as a research physicist for General Electric. During that time, he penned his first Minecraft-inspired series of books which ended up on the New York Times, USA Today, and Publisher’s Weekly bestsellers list. Today, he’s written 27 novels with over 2 million copies in print worldwide. When not writing, Mark talks with school kids about creative writing while still doing research at GE.
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Bones of Doom - Mark Cheverton
CHAPTER 1
The skeleton warlord, Rakir, shoved the terrified zombie down the shadowy passage, expecting the foolish creature to trigger some kind of lethal trap; soon, the skeleton would get what he wanted.
The idiotic zombie walked along one wall of the corridor, moving about a dozen blocks ahead of the company of skeletons. When the monster lost the motivation to continue walking through the dark and terrifying passage, the warlord had a few arrows shot in its direction, forcing the decaying creature to continue.
Shuffling its clawed feet slowly across the stone floor, the zombie glanced anxiously about, looking for tripwires or other traps hidden in the darkness … but it was too late. The zombie stepped right on an unseen pressure plate. Instantly, a series of pistons extended, pushing the cold stone walls together, crushing the monster. Flashing red, the zombie took damage, his HP (health points) quickly dropping lower and lower until the decaying creature disappeared, destroyed by the mechanism. The walls receded back into their original position, looking like every other part of the corridor, waiting for their next victim.
"You see, zombies are useful after all. The skeleton warlord laughed a dry, hacking laugh that sounded more like he was choking than chuckling.
Get a skeleton up there with a pick axe. He turned to his companion.
General Rusak, find some volunteers. That was our last zombie and we have many more passages to search."
Rakir adjusted his enchanted iron armor, then glanced up at his general. Rusak was larger than any other skeleton he’d ever seen. His bones were thicker and longer, allowing him to loom over the other monsters. He wore a full set of iron armor, something few skeletons could do because of the weight. Rakir didn’t have that problem; his enchanted armor felt as if it were made of leather, only many times stronger.
I’m sure I can find some skeletons who want a promotion.
The general laughed a hollow laugh, his jaw clicking together with each chuckle. He pointed at a nearby monster. You, come here … now!
The skeleton’s posture slumped as he shuffled forward, an expression of hopelessness on the monster’s pale face; refusing a direct order was a crime that carried with it a lethal punishment.
Hurry up, you fool.
Rakir grabbed the skeleton by his bony arm and pulled him forward. Another monster with a pick axe finished destroying the pressure plate, then stepped aside for the new volunteer.
Here, take this torch and search the passage ahead. We’re almost to our destination,
Rakir said.
The skeleton moved carefully into the passage, the flickering light from the torch splashing on the walls and floors. The illumination revealed a ceiling that was impossibly high; it was at least twenty blocks high, if not more.
There’s a trip wire here,
the skeleton volunteer
said.
Rusak motioned for another soldier to destroy the trip wire, allowing the squad of skeletons to move further into the ancient passage.
Warlord, how do you know if there are any ancient relics in this place?
the skeleton general asked.
Rakir glanced at his general. The new Wither King, Krael, told me.
Why should we trust that creature?
Rusak said. Withers always have a plan of their own that benefits them at the expense of everyone else.
You are right to be cautious.
Rakir ran his bony fingers along the cold stone wall, his fingers making a scraping sound. Krael showed me a book written by one of the monster warlocks. It had the location of many relics hidden all throughout the Far Lands.
The sound of something slithering along the ground echoed through the passage. The skeleton warlord held up a bony fist, stopping his warriors in their tracks. They all pulled out bows and scanned the passage for threats.
Rakir stepped quietly to a hole in the tunnel wall and peered through the gap, the other skeletons backing away, afraid. They all knew strange things could happen in the Far Lands. They were far from the center of the Overworld. In fact, they were hundreds of millions of blocks from its center. At the edge of Minecraft, where the fabric of existence was stretched tight, strange and unpredictable things were known to happen.
It was here in the Far Lands, hundreds of years ago, where the Great War between the NPC wizards and the monster warlocks took place. Great beasts and magical weapons were conjured into being as the two sides played a deadly game of tug-of-war, using the inhabitants of the Far Lands as the rope. The end result of this colossal struggle was not clear, much of it clouded by the fog of time. But one thing remained certain … tensions between monsters and villagers were still high.
Suddenly, a silverfish scurried out of the hole, the tiny little creature squeaking as it scraped its armored tail along the stone floor. The skeletons relaxed, as did Rakir, and put away their weapons for now.
Rakir turned back to his general and continued. This ancient structure was one of those locations on the wither’s map. It was built by the zombie warlock, Zo-Kol the Destroyer. That monster sought to keep this prize from the skeletons in those ancient days, during the Great War. If the skeleton warlock had been given this great weapon, maybe the outcome of that war, hundreds of years ago, would have been different and monsters would rule the Far Lands.
I still don’t trust that wither king.
Nor do I, General, but I will gladly use any of the ancient weapons the great warlocks created and left behind for us.
Rakir stopped and stared up at his general. The hulking skeleton gazed back, his one eye black as midnight, the other a dull red. A long scratch extended down Rusak’s face and passed across the crimson eye, the remnant from some NPC blade. The scar gave the skeleton an even more terrifying appearance.
With these magical weapons, I will lead the skeletons to take over all of the Far Lands. Once all is under our control, we will spread through the rest of the Overworld. I’m sure there’s no one that can stand against us.
Yes, sir,
Rusak replied. You are probably—
There are some side passages up here,
the skeleton scout shouted ahead of them. We’ve disarmed the traps; it’s safe to approach.
Rakir and Rusak ran through the long corridor, the dozen skeletons in their company following fast on their heels. The skeleton general’s armor clanked as he ran, the metallic plates slamming together with each step, but the warlord’s armor was completely quiet; the enchantments put on the iron plates by the ancient wizards of the past not only kept the metallic coating light, but also silent. Behind the two commanders, the rest of the skeletons struggled to stay close, their bodies encumbered with non-magical, light-weight chain mail. The monsters jingled like a set of angry windchimes, the sound filling the passage. The skeleton warlord listened to the clinking noise and smiled, then focused on the monsters up ahead.
Show me what you found,
Rakir demanded when he reached the monsters’ sides.
There is a passage heading to the left and right.
The skeleton volunteer
pointed with his bow. But this main passage continues up ahead. I was able to see some redstone lanterns in the distance along the main passage, but the side passages are lit with torches. Which way do we go?
Ignore the side passages,
the skeleton warlord commanded.
But Rakir, there may be relics in there.
Rusak glanced down one of the smaller corridors, then brought his gaze back to his commander. Perhaps we send a couple skeletons down each one?
No. Krael told me to follow the redstone lanterns.
Rakir moved closer to his general and spoke in a soft but firm voice. The wizards and warlocks of old only used redstone lanterns in the magical areas. The redstone somehow enhanced their powers.
Do you think this wither king can be trusted?
the general asked.
Rakir nodded.
Very well.
The general turned and faced the other skeletons. Continue forward. Everyone carry a torch and watch for traps.
Rusak turned to the lead scout and pointed down the passage with a bony finger. After you.
The monster swallowed uncomfortably, then continued through the passage.
After thirty or so blocks, the scout triggered a trap that shoved him into a deep pit filled with cacti. His HP didn’t last very long. Another volunteer
was chosen and the party continued forward. After three more traps, and three more volunteers,
they reached the end of the passage.
Before them stood a cylindrical chamber. The floor and walls were obsidian, with thick columns of redstone lanterns stretching up to the ceiling high overhead. A thick layer of dust and grime covered the stone-brick floor, the dirt adding to the stale and ancient feeling of the chamber. Across the floor, the gray dust was featureless, almost smooth, the absence of footprints suggesting no one had visited this chamber for hundreds of years. At the center of the room was an altar made of quartz. Atop the altar was a crafting bench, cracked with age and covered with dust. Floating just above was a bow made of pale bone. The white, ornately-carved surface of the bow seemed to glow with a lavender luster, and small sparks of purple hovered around the taut string.
What is it?
Rusak asked in awe, his jaw clicking ever so slightly.
Behold, the Fossil Bow of Destruction,
the warlord said. Krael promised it would be here; he did not lie … this time.
He smiled. The wither king gave me many such locations as this, each an old structure with hidden weapons of magic just waiting to be taken by us. We have patrols out searching for them as we speak. Soon we will have many ancient and enchanted weapons, making the skeleton army the strongest fighting force since the Great War between the wizards and the warlords.
Rakir moved to the crafting bench. His footsteps caused tiny little clouds of dust to billow into the air. Cautiously, he reached out and grasped the weapon. Pain instantly engulfed him, making the warlock want to scream. But he would never show that kind of weakness in front of another skeleton. When he realized he wasn’t going to die, and the pain began to fade away, the skeleton warlord smiled.
Only a true descendant of a wizard or warlock may use this bow.
Rakir backed away from the ancient crafting bench and held the weapon out to Rusak. Anyone else would be destroyed.
He looked up at his general, challenging him with his cold gaze. Do you want to try?
Before Rusak could answer, one of the skeletons shouted from the chamber’s entrance. Zombies coming. There are probably two dozen, if not … more.
The skeleton’s voice cracked with fear. They’re armored and heavily armed. We can’t fight that many. Do we surrender?
Never!
snapped Rakir. Let’s see what this fabulous weapon will do.
The skeleton warlord moved to the entrance and stared down the long passage. He could see the shuffling monsters approaching.
They’re too far for our bows.
General Rusak moved to the warlord’s side. We should lure them closer, into a trap, and hope their numbers can be cut down by our arrows.
Watch and learn,
Rakir said with a wry smile.
The warlord held the Fossil Bow before him, his bony fingers squeezing it tight. Rusak handed him an arrow, but it was brushed aside. Rakir grabbed the string and pulled it back. Instantly, a shimmering arrow appeared on the weapon. He aimed high in the air, judging the distance to the targets, which was still great. He focused his attention on one of the zombies, fixing the monster’s position in his mind. A burst of pain spread through his body, causing the skeleton warlord to flash red, taking damage as his HP was drawn from his body to power the magical weapon. Then he released the string. The magical arrow leapt off the bowstring and streaked into the air, its enchanted shaft making a faint whistling sound as it flew.
You’re too far away,
Rusak said.
Watch.
All the zombies need to do is step aside and the arrow will miss,
the general said.
Just watch,
the warlord said, scowling at his general and silencing him with his gaze.
The skeletons watched the glowing projectile travel in a graceful arc, climbing higher and higher, then slowly descending. The zombies saw the incoming missile and all moved to the walls in hopes of getting out of the projectile’s path. But the arrow turned slightly, tracking its target on the left wall. The zombies, seeing this, all moved to the right wall. The arrow changed course again, staying fixed to its next victim. The zombies moaned in fear, uncertain what to do.
The arrow struck the lead zombie, pushing the monster back, onto the ground. The decaying creature just had time for a terrified moan, then disappeared, the single shot from the enchanted weapon powerful enough to destroy all the monster’s HP.
You see? This magical weapon is incredible.
Rakir gave his general a satisfied smile.
I want to try,
one of the skeletons said.
He snatched the bow from the warlord’s hand. Rusak made a move toward the offending monster, but Rakir raised a hand, stopping his general.
Watch and learn,
Rakir said.
The skeleton pulled the bow string back. Instantly, the monster was overwhelmed with pain. He flashed red as the bow sucked on his HP. Flailing his arm about, the monster tried to drop the bow, but he could not make his hand release its grip. Flashing red again and again, the skeleton fell to his knees, trying to push the bow away with his other hand, but it was hopeless. The creature shouted in pain and fear as the enchanted bow slowly consumed him. Finally, the monster fell to the ground and disappeared, his HP consumed by the Fossil Bow of Destruction.
I told you, only an ancestor of the wizards or warlocks can wield this weapon.
Rakir bend down and picked up the weapon. I am a descendant of the great skeleton warlock, Ragnar the Tormentor.
Rusak nodded in awe. "Perhaps his magical powers pulse through your veins."
Perhaps,
Rakir said. But now, it’s time we destroy the rest of those pathetic zombies.
He stared at the decaying green monsters in the distance, then pulled back the string and fired again and again. He launched a dozen quick shots, the last being released before the first even found its target. The glowing arrows streaked through the air like magical missiles, tracking the creatures with uncanny precision. They fell upon the zombies, each shaft taking a monstrous life. In seconds, all the zombies were gone.
That weapon is incredible,
General Rusak said with a grin. It will give us an unbelievable advantage against the zombies and spiders.
The skeleton warlord nodded. Tensions have been high since the disappearance of the zombie warlord. The spiders try to expand their territory while the zombie kingdom struggles in chaos. The Fossil Bow of Destruction will give us the advantage, allowing us to control the other monsters. Once we have enough relics from the wizards and warlocks, we’ll then move against the villagers.
General Rusak smiled.
Today begins the reign of the skeletons.
Rakir glanced at the other monsters around him. Quickly they began to cheer his name, lest they become the next victim themselves. Soon all will grovel before us, both monster and villager alike. With this bow, we will destroy any that stand in our way.
Nothing will stop us, warlord,
General Rusak said.
Perhaps you are right.
The skeleton warlord put the enchanted bow into his inventory, then lowered his voice so only the general heard. The new wither king, Krael, gave me a warning.
What did he say?
He told that that the descendants of the great wizards can use this bow as well.
Rakir removed it from his inventory again. The purple light from the enchanted weapon threw a lavender glow on the cold stone walls. Every one of those descendants will want to take this bow from us. Before we can begin our campaign to take over the Far Lands, we must first destroy anyone who might challenge us.
You mean the offspring of the wizards?
Rusak asked.
The skeleton warlord nodded. Krael told me the descendants are similar to the wizards, in that they all have red hair and are expert archers.
Red hair?
Rusak asked, confused.
Yes, the wizards had red hair, as did all their children.
Rakir waited for these words to sink into his general’s thick skull. Spread the word; all skeleton scouting parties are to search for any red-headed villagers that show even the smallest bit of skill with a bow. They must all be destroyed, and their villages burned to the ground. None can be left alive, for the descendants of the great wizards of old are the only threat standing in our way of dominating the Far Lands.
It will be done as soon as we get back to the Hall of Pillars,
the general said.
Good. Let’s get moving … there’s a world out there I must dominate and villages that need destroying.
The skeleton warlord laughed a hacking laugh which echoed off the walls of the long passage, making the very fabric of Minecraft cringe.
CHAPTER 2
Watcher peered over the edge of the massive hole, looking at the ancient watchtower that lay half-buried in the deep hole, the tower jutting up out of the cavity almost as if it were climbing its way into the sky. Along one edge of the massive pit, he could see a small group of skeletons leaping from block to block, slowly descending towards the bottom and the entrance to the watchtower.
They’d been following the company of skeletons through the forest since the NPC scouts had spotted them. Watcher wanted to know what they were doing so close to their village … and now they knew. They were looking for the old watchtower.
Er-Lan does not like skeletons,
the zombie next to the young NPC whispered. They came to Er-Lan’s zombie-town many times, raiding for supplies.
When was that?
Blaster asked. The boy moved next to Watcher. He was taller than both Watcher and Er-Lan, his curly black hair sticking out in all directions. I assume it was before the zombie warlord started attacking our villages?
Er-Lan nodded. It was when this zombie was still part of the zombie nation.
He glanced at the two boys, then cast a quick look at Planter, her blond hair shining in the bright sunlight. Now, Er-Lan is part of this family.
You got that right,
Planter said with a smile.
Watcher placed a hand on the zombie’s shoulder. I don’t like skeletons either. In fact—
he leaned in close and whispered —I’m terrified of them. From far away, I’m okay, but when they’re up close, they scare me, almost to death.
His voice shook a little. I hate ’em.
Why does Watcher have so much hate for the skeletons?
Er-Lan asked.
The monster adjusted his chain mail, making a brief clinking sound that echoed down into the hole. Instantly, everyone froze and ducked behind a tree. One of the skeletons glanced back up toward the noise, but acted like it saw nothing.
When I was very young, a skeleton attacked my mother and me.
Watcher’s voice took on a wistful tone. We ran, but found ourselves cornered with a cliff at our backs. If it weren’t for one of the soldiers from the village, that monster would have … well, you know.
The zombie nodded.
That was when I decided I wanted to be a villager soldier, just like our rescuer.
"And now you are a soldier," Er-Lan said.
Watcher nodded and smiled. But I’m just an archer. I don’t use a sword or have heavy iron armor or—
A smart person uses the tools that are best suited to their hands.
Er-Lan held out his hand and spread his green decaying fingers wide, the dark claw at the end of each one sparkling under the morning sun.
Just then, Planter moved next to Watcher and peered through the branches at the monsters as they moved deeper into the hole in which the ancient structure sat. Her hair smelled like sweet melons … he’d never noticed that before, but it was fantastic.
Why do you think the skeletons are going into the Wizard’s Tower?
Planter asked.
Watcher glanced at her. Sunlight streamed through the leafy canopy, and coated her blond hair, making the flowing locks seem to glow with a magical radiance. It seemed more vibrant than usual … in fact, everything seemed more vibrant than usual around Planter. She seemed different somehow to Watcher, but he couldn’t figure out exactly what it was.
Watcher glanced down at her clothing. Her green smock merged with the leaves of the trees, allowing her to blend in with the foliage, but the bright yellow stripe down the middle of her garment made her stand out. Gently, Watcher pushed her behind the trunk of an oak tree, so she would be well hidden.
She smiled at him, and Watcher felt as if he were melting. For some reason, a content and satisfied peacefulness settled over him when he was near Planter. It was as if, with all his faults and inadequacies, he was accepted by her, no matter what. He could just be himself, no pretending to be brave, no trying to look strong, no … nothing. All Watcher had to do was be Watcher, and that felt … fantastic.
They must be looking for something,
Blaster replied. The young boy put on his favorite leather armor, which was dyed black. Let’s follow them and see what they’re up to.
He turned to Watcher. Your sister, Winger, should have made it back to the village by now. We’ll have help soon.
Watcher nodded, then moved to the edge of the massive hole that had been excavated around the ancient tower. With an arm across his chain mail armor to keep it from making too much noise, he jumped onto the rocky surface, following the redstone torches that marked the safe trail down. The three companions moved along the roughhewn walls much faster than the skeletons, having the benefit of the flickering torches that showed the easier path.
Everyone hide, they’re looking around.
Watcher ducked behind a block of stone, his three friends doing the same.
With his sensitive vision, the young boy peeked around the edge of the block. The largest of the skeletons down below them glanced up and around at his surroundings, the monster’s chain mail reflecting the few rays of sunlight that managed to penetrate the depths. With arrow notched and