Herobrine's Message (17 page)

Stan was too stunned to speak. Did he see that correctly? Did Lord Marrow have homing arrows?

He had no intention of sticking around to find out as Lord
Marrow readied his next shot. Stan ducked behind a tree to avoid another purple-smoked arrow, this one also curving off its path to find him but sticking in the corner of the tree before it could. Stan sprinted between the trees, as arrow after arrow flew after him. Some zigzagged their way through the branches, missing him by inches. Others connected with the trees in a massive explosion, clearing the woods of places for Stan to hide. And still others set the trees on fire, causing entire groves to go up in flames in a matter of seconds.

It wasn't long before Stan was exhausted, and he ducked behind a tree trunk that had avoided the blaze to dodge another homing arrow, this one coming within a centimeter of his foot. Stan glanced up, seeing what type of arrow Lord Marrow was going to fire next—an explosive one. Stan readied himself to dash out of the way, when suddenly, a shout rang out through the burning forest.

“Hey, Lord Marrow! Check out what happened to our little villager pal!” Enderchick screamed, her voice sounding bitter.

Stan's heart skipped a beat, and he peered around the side of the stump, preparing himself for whatever may have happened to the Zombie villager. But to Stan's total shock, the villager, who he didn't recognize, was now completely cured, no longer showing any signs of Zombie-hood. He merely looked around in a confused sort of way, the typical
behavior of a villager.

“He's, like, totally useless to us now,” Enderchick spat in disappointment. “Hey, Marrow, you should totally take a break from Stan for just a sec . . . take care of that villager for me, will ya?”

And Stan watched in horror as Lord Marrow loaded his bow with another arrow—a new type, this one sparkling with electricity—turned his back to Stan, and took aim at the villager. He let the arrow fly, just as the cry “NOOOO!” escaped from Stan's mouth.

And yet, to Stan's surprise, relief, and alarm, he wasn't the only one to utter this cry. He looked on as Leonidas dived out of the shadows of the forest, flying in front of the oblivious villager right into the path of the arrow, which sunk into his stomach. There was a massive crash of light and sound as, without warning, a bolt of lightning dropped out of the clear night sky through the power of the hacked arrow, striking the dark form of Leonidas. He went through a short fit of spasms in midair before he finally fell lifeless to the ground, smoke curling off his singed black leather armor and sparks dancing around his body.

Stan acted without thinking, moving purely through some primal, animal instinct as he charged into the clearing, a war cry escaping from his mouth. He sliced his sword across the unarmored back of the totally unprepared Lord Marrow. The
archer tumbled across the clearing of snow, his pained face illuminated in the light of the burning forest, and he landed with a thud next to Enderchick, who was nursing her leg beside the still-unconscious Arachnia. When she saw Stan rushing toward them, sword raised and eyes blazing with unfathomable hatred, Enderchick, with a shriek of horror, grabbed on to both of her companions and disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke, leaving Stan to sink DZ's sword into nothing but dirt.

Stan didn't care that the players had escaped. He didn't even care right now why they had come in the first place. All that mattered to him was the player lying in the snow, covered in the soot of the lightning blast, the rising and falling of his chest slow and strained. In desperation, Stan pulled off Leonidas's charred chestplate. There was a noticeable wound on his left arm, where Stan assumed the Enderman from earlier that night had probably hit him. His leather chestplate had stopped the arrow from entering his body, and the place where the lightning had struck him bore a scar in the shape of a snowflake-like pattern, directly over his heart.

“Leonidas? Can you hear me?” Stan asked, desperate to hear a response.

“Yeah,” Leonidas breathed, with no hesitation, “I . . . can hear ya, Stan.”

Stan's heart flooded with relief, and he let out the massive breath he had been holding in.

“Leonidas . . . that was . . .”

“Pretty stupid of me?” Leonidas asked with a faint chuckle, followed by a raspy cough.

“No . . . it was amazing,” Stan replied, tears of joy streaming down his face.

Leonidas gave a faint smile, immediately followed by continued coughing and wheezing. Stan reached into his inventory and pulled out a raw pork chop, the only bit of food he had left. He put it into Leonidas's mouth and, slowly but surely, Leonidas began to chew, and eventually the entire piece of meat entered his system. Leonidas sighed in relief.

“Thanks, Stan,” said Leonidas softly, though noticeably stronger. “That helped.”

“You're welcome. Leonidas, do you think . . . are you gonna . . .”

“I'll be fine, Stan,” Leonidas cut him off, his breathing now more even. “I've survived a lot worse than this. Just give me a couple hours to heal up, and I'll be ready to move again.”

Stan smiled, not believing that he was feeling so thankful, relieved, and even overjoyed that Leonidas, who he had once called the most savage player in all of Elementia, was going to live. Finally, Stan managed to speak.

“Leonidas . . . did you mean what you said before? Do you really want to help me?”

Leonidas took a deep breath, and let out a heavy cough before responding.

“Stan, I'll tell it to ya one more time . . . I didn't choose the Alliance. The Alliance chose me. But now, it's about time that I start makin' my own choices. And ya know what, Stan? I choose the NPC villagers. I choose Elementia. And . . . I choose you.”

With that, a smile crossed Leonidas's face, his head rolled to the side, his chest rising and falling in the peaceful rhythm of sleep.

Stan noticed something lying beside him, and he picked it up. It was Leonidas's bow, the one Lord Marrow had picked up before Leonidas had knocked it out of his hand in the sneak attack. Stan turned the bow over, examining it for a moment, before looking back down at the sleeping player beside him.

Stan reached into his inventory and pulled out an arrow, half-aware of the villager still wandering around aimlessly behind him (he did not recognize the villager but would be sure to point him toward his home in a little while). He notched it in the bow and got into a crouching position, ready to fire. When Leonidas had healed and he finally woke up, Stan would give the bow back to him. Until then, however, Stan stood crouched in the snow in the midst of the burning forest, ready to take down anyone or anything that attempted to harm his new ally while he rested.

E
ven now, as Bob entered the courtyard of Element Castle, he could hear the sounds of hard labor taking place outside the castle walls. The sounds of toil and ruthless work were occasionally interspersed with cries of suffering as the citizens of Element City worked as hard as they could on their mandated task. These sounds alarmed Bob, and he prompted Ivanhoe to run faster as they entered the main hallway of the castle.

As he steered Ivanhoe up the stairs, Bob thought about what was going on outside. He knew that what was going on was definitely necessary. While the Element City walls were still holding up, all it would take was one breach of the defenses for Element City to fall to the Noctem forces. Should that fateful day arrive, the citizens would need somewhere to stay safe, and the Mechanist's solution was indeed a brilliant one, as his solutions usually were.

For the past few days, under the authorization of the Mechanist and the oversight of Bob and his brothers, all citizens of Element City had been recruited to take up their shovels and pickaxes and construct a defensive bunker underneath the city. While the underground of Element City already held a series of mines from its founding days, the Mechanist had ordered
these tunnels to be strengthened, fortified with defenses, and enlarged so that the entire population of Element City could be safe underground.

However, in his messages relayed to the police chiefs from Element Castle via soldiers, the Mechanist's orders had become increasingly demanding. The Mechanist had commanded the citizens to work through the night, constantly digging and building to upgrade the tunnels as quickly as possible. Countless citizens had collapsed from fatigue, unable to work any longer. In the dark mines, dozens of citizens had been wounded by mob attacks, lava flows, and falling gravel, including one player who had died via a TNT blast set off by a miner who was delirious with exhaustion. It was this player's death that had finally made Bob realize that he had to confront the Mechanist.

As he reached the top of the stairs, Bob and Ivanhoe dashed down the stone-brick corridor until they came to a stop at the door to the council room. Bob took a deep breath and gave three sharp knocks on the door. After a moment, a growling, irritated voice rang out.

“Whaddaya want?”

Bob was taken aback; he wouldn't have been surprised if the Mechanist had sounded exhausted, or even hopeless, but he hadn't been expecting any brashness. Tentatively, Bob pushed the door open. The Mechanist was sitting at the table,
a mess of papers strewn out haphazardly before him, and, for whatever reason, he no longer seemed irritated. In fact, he was smiling in a goofy way.

“Ah, look who it is!” the Mechanist cried, despite the fact that Bob could hear him perfectly fine. His voice was slurred and giddy, and his Texas accent had all but vanished. “It's always a pleasure to see my favorite little pile of pork . . . oh, and you, too, Ivanhoe!”

The Mechanist burst out laughing, clutching his sides and falling out of his chair as he banged the ground with his fist. Bob looked on, feeling extremely uncomfortable. Was this the same player they had agreed would run their city?

“Okay, okay,” the Mechanist slurred after a moment of hysterics, grabbing the stone table and pulling himself to his feet. “All . . .
hic . . .
” A tiny hiccup escaped the Mechanist's mouth before he continued. “All hilarious comedy aside, how're you doing, Bob? Are the front lines holding up okay? And what about the tunnels? How're”—the Mechanist gave a huge, open-mouth yawn—“how're those coming along?”

“Well, uh,” Bob said slowly, trying to keep his composure after the display that he had just seen. “Well . . . the front lines are holding up just fine. Our resources are starting to run a little low, but we won't have anything to be concerned about for a while. As for fortifying the old mines . . . well . . . that's actually what I came in here to talk to you about.”

“Oh, don't tell me something went wrong!” cried the Mechanist, jumping to his feet, an infuriated look flashing over his face. “We need those mines fortified as fast as possible, we can't afford any setbacks!”

“Calm down!” replied Bob in hasty alarm. He was totally caught off guard by the rapid mood swing. “There hasn't been any setback! As a matter of fact the work on the mines is going at just the speed that you wanted.”

“Well, then what's the problem?” spat the Mechanist as he plopped back down in his chair, no longer furious but rather agitated.

“Well, to be honest, I've come to request that you order the work schedule to slow down,” said Bob, deciding that it wasn't worth it to beat around the bush. “The citizens are exhausted. They've been working nonstop, and they just need a break. Not to mention that several people have been injured, and a girl actually died earlier today.”

“I'm sorry,” replied the Mechanist, glaring at Bob and not missing a beat, “but do you realize what we're up against here, Bob? You're the
Chief of Police . . .
you must realize that the Noctems are coming closer and closer to breaking through our walls every day.”

“Well, I—”

“And surely you realize that the second the Noctem Alliance breaks through that wall, they're going to try to take
as many Elementia citizens hostage as possible. And that underground tunnel is the only place that will be safe—if you designed it the way I told you to, that is,” the Mechanist spat.

“Of course I realize—”

“Then you should
also
realize,” the Mechanist cut in, sounding more irritated by the second, “that completing those tunnels is incredibly important! Frankly, I don't care if a few people get hurt just so the tunnel gets done faster. If it means that the people of this city have somewhere safe to go when we get overrun by Noctem troops, then it's totally worth it! And I'll thank you to shut up and not question my logic, because I've spent far more time alone in this room thinking about what's best for this city than anybody else around here! Now go down there and get back to work! I'll have the plans for the blast doors done soon, and when I do, I expect them to be installed with no hesitation!
Do you understand?
”

As the Mechanist finished his rant, nostrils flaring and eyes bloodshot, Bob was more than a little disturbed. On the one hand, he knew that the Mechanist had a point; the Noctems could only be held at bay for so long, and it was imperative that they finish the tunnels before the walls failed them. But on the other hand, it frightened him that total control over their city was in the hands of the player who had just screamed at him.

“I understand, sir,” Bob finally replied. “I'll tell my brothers, and we'll be ready to go when you finish the plans for those doors.” And with that, Bob steered Ivanhoe back to the door and, vowing to keep a closer eye on the Mechanist from now on, he left the council room.

The Mechanist glanced in disgust at the door where Bob had just left. Preposterous it was, the Mechanist thought, that Bob had questioned his authority. He knew what he was doing, and clearly, if the people were demanding that they slow down their schedule, he was the only one with a clear scope of the situation.

Well, I guess what they say is true,
the Mechanist thought to himself.
If you want something done right, you've got to do it yourself.

And with that, the Mechanist extracted a bottle of blue-gray potion from his inventory, took a huge gulp, and wiped his mouth. When he was finished, he put the bottle down and got back to work on the designs for the blast doors.

“LAAAAAAND HOOOOOOOH!”

Kat, who had nodded off in the cramped back of the boat, jolted upright, causing the boat to rock sharply from side to side, prompting Charlie, who was steering, to cry “Watch it!” in irritation.

“Would you all shut up?” hissed Cassandrix, looking at
Charlie and Commander Crunch, who had just shouted in surprise. “I don't know if you people remember, but we still have an entire army of Noctem troops looking for us!”

“Oh, well, pardon me,” growled Commander Crunch in irritation. “Ye know, I would 'ave expected that a bunch o' landlubbers like ye would've been more excited by th' prospect o' gettin' off these bloody ships . . .”

“Oh, trust me—we are,” replied Kat, staring fondly at the mass of swampland rising up out of the distant ocean. Finally, after days and days of nothing but ocean and scattered, barren islands, they were back to the mainland. Then, suddenly, a thought occurred to her. She glanced up at Charlie sitting in front of her.

“Are you . . . gonna be okay, Charlie?”

“What? Oh, yeah, don't worry about me. I'll be fine,” Charlie replied, and although Kat knew he was trying his hardest to sound earnest, there was a noticeable hint of apprehension in his voice. Kat looked at Charlie with sympathy. Although she had asked him once before, he hadn't been able to talk about the exact methods that the Noctem Alliance had used to try to get information about Element City out of him. However, Kat knew that they had targeted his legs. She imagined that he was dreading the prospect of having to walk all the way back to Element City.

It wasn't long before the two boats reached the swampy
land mass that Commander Crunch joyfully identified as the peninsula that would lead them back to Element City. As they exited their boats, Kat took a deep breath and stepped onto the soggy dirt blocks. Rex, who had been paddling beside them, pulled himself out of the water and shook his fur dry. Kat relished in the feeling of finally setting foot on dry land again after so long at sea.

The sensation lasted only for a moment, though, before there was a splash behind her. Charlie had tumbled out of the boat and into the water, and Kat helped him back to his feet, despite his protests. However, as Kat had expected, Charlie moved across the swampland with a limp, and Kat wondered how much of the damage would heal over time . . . and how much was permanent.

Without hesitation, all four players set to work. Kat and Commander Crunch broke down their two boats by hand, Cassandrix pulled out the compass and examined it, and Charlie hobbled his way over to the nearest tree and began harvesting wood. When the four of them had finished their various tasks, they walked over and met each other in a circle.

“Okay,” said Cassandrix, pocketing the compass. “By my estimation, we're still a few days' walk from Element City.” Charlie let out a small groan. “I think that we should take a rest for now, though. We still have enough food to last us for one more night, and if we go underground then we can get
materials to make some new weapons for ourselves. We'll start hiking tomorrow, after we've gotten a good night's sleep.”

The four players nodded and Charlie pulled a crafting table out of his inventory. Using the wood that he had collected, he crafted some wood planks and sticks, which were soon turned into a wooden pickaxe. As Cassandrix gathered some more wood for their weapons, Charlie punched the dirt blocks on the ground until he finally hit stone. Drawing out his pickaxe, Charlie brought it down onto the stone with a mighty strike, only to wince in pain as he did so. Kat's eyebrows raised in concern. Clearly, the damage from the torture was more severe than she had expected.

“Let me see that,” Kat said kindly, taking the pickaxe from Charlie's hand and intentionally avoiding his crestfallen face. It wasn't long before Kat had tunneled down into ground, and, to her delight, came across a vein of coal ore. She harvested the black lumps, and, after she had Charlie toss a few sticks down to her, she put up torches to illuminate the cube-shaped cave she was carving out. Before long, however, the wooden pickaxe snapped off its handle, having lived out its incredibly short life span.

“Charlie!” Kat yelled. “Can you—”

But before she could finish, she watched as Charlie dropped down the hole and landed on the stone-block floor,
stumbling with a grimace and an audible grunt of pain. Kat was alarmed. He shouldn't have taken any fall damage from such a short drop. She was about to go help him when Charlie looked up at her, determination in his eyes.

“Give me some stone, Kat,” he grunted, pulling himself back to his feet.

“Charlie, you're hurt. Please, just let me—”

“I said, give it to me, Kat!” Charlie growled, anger coursing through his voice as he pulled the crafting table out of his inventory and slammed it to the ground in a huff. Kat stared at Charlie, taken aback by how aggressive he was all of a sudden. She handed three blocks of cobblestone to him, and he snatched them up. She looked on in shock, having trouble believing that this was the same happy-go-lucky player she was best friends with.

Kat continued to put up torches, still allowing Charlie to widen the space of their underground chamber, despite the clear fact that every stroke of the pickaxe was hurting him. It wasn't long before the chamber was a perfectly rectangular shape, large enough to comfortably hold all of them. Looking around the room, Charlie nodded to himself, drew a cobblestone block from his inventory, and placed it down, sitting on it and wiping his brow.

“All right, guys. We're done!” Kat yelled up the hole as she placed the last of the torches on the wall. “Come on down!”

Cassandrix plopped down the hole, landing gracefully next to Kat and immediately walking over to the crafting table. Then, Kat heard a yell come down from the hole in the roof.

“Ahoy scallywags, guess wha' I found!” Seconds later, Commander Crunch fell through the hole and landed next to Cassandrix and, without hesitation, he tossed a whole mess of wool blocks from his inventory onto the ground. “Thar was a flock o' sheep roamin' through th' swamp! We gonna be sleepin' comfy tonight! Well, I mean, personally, I prefer t' sleep on rigid wood planks . . . but I 'ave a feelin' that ye'll appreciate it!”