Sorry, peeps, I got banned from my computer. Updates will come slower now but I promise to keep writing (Sue me if I don't).
Chapter Six
Wait, I'm Not Dead?
"Can you tell us a story?" Young Steve begged, looking at the old Enderman with wide eyes.
"Yes, but only one. What do you want me to tell?"
"Tell us how Steve got here" The young Enderman at Steve's side replied.
"If you promise not to interrupt me, Xeraph, Steve."
"I promise!" The two boys chorused.
"Nine years ago," The old Enderman began."I was in the place we now call the Overworld. I was hunting in a forest near a very big structure that humans call a "mansion", and that mansion belonged to a powerful tribe of humans called House Xelandris. The sun was about to come up, and I was just about to head back to my cave when-"
"Did you get ambushed by zombies? Is that why you weren't in you cave, Sirras?" Xeraph asked, excited.
"Xeraph, don't interrupt. Anyway, I was just about to teleport when I saw something strange happen. A bundle of cloth appeared out of thin air and floated onto the mansion's doorstep." Sirras paused." And no, I wasn't hallucinating. It simply appeared from nowhere. A human came out, and saw the bundle. I'm assuming that the human thought that it was an orphan left by a random homeless human, because the first thing it did was to carry it into the woods and leave it there."
"Awww, Steve. Rejected!" Xeraph teased. Steve swatted at his friend's arm.
"Xeraph! Don't interrupt or I won't tell you the story." The old Enderman scolded.
"I was curious as to what it was, so I picked it up and shook it a bit. A high pitched noised that hurt my ears came from the bundle, and something fell out of it."
Xeraph did his absolute best to stifle his giggle, but didn't quite succeed. Steve glared at him crossly, but that just made it worse.
Sirras, sensing the mayhem about to occur, hurried up with his telling.
"It had purple eyes and a mop of brown fur atop its head, and it was a human cub-"
But before he could get any further, he was interrupted by an earth-shaking roar outside. Steve's eyes grew to the size of Chorus fruits and then he was dragging Xeraph by the arm towards the door. Xeraph didn't protest, as he was curious to see what was going on too.
"Wait- !" Sirras called, but it was to late. The boys were already outside.
Sirras sighed, and made to follow them. The Dragon is not known for killing people, but it didn't stop most Enderfolks from fearing it. After all, it was better to be safe than sorry.
Steve was in a land with red skies. Everything was tinged with red. The trees were made out of glowstone and magma blocks, and the ground was netherrack.
A vast shadow fell over him. He looked up, and saw a flying dragon covered in glittering red scales that seemed to shed their own light, and radiated heat like a pool of lava.
Its slitted gold eyes met his purple ones, and he saw endless sorrow in the golden pools.
The Ender Dragon was crouched on top of one of her great obsidian pillars. On the ground, a horde of Endermen marched against her, armed to the teeth. She spread her wings and roared, a column of indigo flames surging up into the black sky of the End, but the Endermen kept coming.
Steve wanted to shout at them to stop, but when he opened his mouth no sound came out of it. No! He wanted to say. She's a friend! Why would you march against Her? Zariah protects the End!
But then Zariah and the Endermen vanished, and Steve hurtled headlong into another dream.
He was in the ruins of a once-great castle. The bodies of Mobs lay around him in heaps. There must have been more than a million of them, some on the ground, some on the roofs and even some embedded into the wall.
The ground was ruptured and had giant cracks in it, and the castle looked like it had of several thousand blocks of TNT explode on it all at once. Or maybe creepers, though why creepers would form themselves into an army and explode all in the same place, Steve had no idea.
There was a single building still standing, though not quite in mint condition. Steve made his way towards it, curious as to why it was still standing while the others had all fallen, all the while aware that whatever killed those Mobs might still be around.
The building resembled a cathedral. There was once stained glass covering the gaping hole at the front, but most of it was knocked out in what seemed like an explosion.
There was a someone kneeling on the floor. A bloodstained scythe that glowed with a white-blue light lay on the floor next to him, and blood dripped down his face from a gash on his forehead. He had dark brown hair that curled slightly, and a sort of beauty that Steve had only seen in Gods, while at the same time bearing a slight, but uncanny resemblance to himself. His eyes were closed, and he seemed to be not breathing.
Steve inched forwards, wanting a closer look. The air temperature dropped dramatically, seeming to get colder closer to the the figure.
Suddenly, he knew, without a doubt, that this one person was the cause of the piles of bodies outside.
His eyes flashed open without a warning, and fixed on Steve.
Steve yelped in shock.
The eyes that stared at him were pure white, without pupils or irises.
I woke up with a jolt, and tumbled off my bed, hitting the floor with a quite painful THUD!
I rubbed my eyes and yawned.
Then stopped.
Wasn't I meant to be dead?
I looked at my hands, noting the fact that I had hands, and that I could feel them. I didn't feel very dead. I just felt very hungry.
Then I took in my surroundings, and decided I probably was dead.
Where the Nether am I?
Well, answering my own question, I was in a small cottage, and, from a glance out the window, in the middle of nowhere.
"Well, I was wondering if you'd ever wake up." A voice drawled from my right.
I turned around and there was a young man about the same age as me, with cobalt blue eyes and hair as black as a moonless night. He dressed sharp, like he had a lot of money and didn't know what to do with it other than buying expensive clothes. He wore what looked like a very expensive black coat, and a pair of artfully faded blue pants. He also looked familiar, though I couldn't remember why.
"I was expecting you to stay on the bed, though." He added, seeming to be amused to find me on the floor.
"Who are you? Where am I?" I blurted out, then realising it was probably not very polite.
He didn't seem to be bothered, though.
"Call me Horus."
"Alrighty, Horus, so what are you doing in a small cottage in the middle of nowhere? What am I doing here?"
"I am hiding from other magicians and a few unsavory people who will doubtlessly take umbrage at my continued existence if they were to learn of it, and you happen to be in my house which, as you have just stated, is in the middle of nowhere, otherwise known as the fearsome Sylder Forest." He paused for a bit. "As to your second question, you are here because I found you dying somewhat unspectacularly at the hands of a certain prince, and it behove me to prevent you from dying as the prince is question is not the most likeable individual and it was bound to ruin his day.
"Uh... Thanks?" I muttered.
Then my stomach made a noise like a wounded beast. I'm positive that I turned into a tomato from embarrassment.
"Sorry," I muttered.
Horus tilted his head. "You should not be. It is a known fact that humans have to be fed or else risk death by starvation. I shall see what I can do about it."
I tried to not look too hopeful.
After depriving my new friend of most of his food store, I decided to chew him out a bit. Which might not have been a problem if he wasn't so damned hard to find. He wasn't in the house, he wasn't near the house, and he also wasn't near this lake that was near the house.
In the end, it was him who found me.
It was near dark and I was wandering around the house, when a dead cow landed splat bang right in front of me. I jumped and ended up falling flat on my back, and started to let loose a torrent of colourful words that should not be repeated to little kids.
Horus stepped into my line of sight, looking slightly amused by my outburst. "What was that for?!" I sputtered in protest.
"To test your reflexes." He shrugged as I scowled. "They were very good. What followed after, however, may need a little improvement."
I opened my mouth to say something rude, then remembered that I probably owed him my life. "I was looking for you," I said instead.
"Why?" He arched an eyebrow.
"Because I wanted to ask you something, well, a lot of things."
"To be expected." He nodded agreeably
Suddenly I noticed something. "Hey, where'd the cow go?"
He pointed at the pile of raw beef and leather on the ground with an air of exasperation.
"You're a Crafter, aren't you?" I asked quite pointlessly as the items disappeared into his inventory.
"Your powers of perception are certainly astute," he said sardonically. "And we'd best go back inside before the sun sets completely."
I decided not to argue, because I had no wish to be eaten alive by either Mobs or mosquitoes.
"I understand you have questions." Horus said idly from his position in an armchair.
"Why'd you help me?" I blurted.
"I thought I had made it clear. I am not on the best of terms with the prince, and I admit to being a very petty individual at times. Moving on."
"I'm pretty sure I got stabbed in the back. But there isn't even a scar there." I tugged at my shirt a bit.
"Advanced healing magic. You have to have it if you want to survive...certain things." He flicked his fingers, and a shower of blue light illuminated the room for a brief moment.
"Why are you living here? You said you were running from someone, but who?"
"I assume you know about the Arcopolis."
"Yeah, where all powerful magic-users go. They said it was made of gold or something."
"Not quite. There's a fair bit of diamond and redstone and obsidian, depending on the profession. Necromancers typically go for the obsidian." He paused. "It is a very elitist society. If you are sufficiently powerful, they let you join them. But if they, and by they, I mean the Council Of Spellcasters that runs the city. If they decide that you are too powerful... well, let us just say that they detest competition." He spread his hands. "Evidently, they have decided that I am too powerful for my own good or theirs. I have being framed for stealing, murdering, Griefing and who knows what else more times than I can count. I distinctly recall being indicted for Existing With Malicious Intent. They get a little creative, sometimes. Also, I've managed to attract enough attention for people to send several hitmen over here, and I assume you have seen my Wanted posters."
"So that's why I thought I'd seen you before! Your posters are all over Allerdant, I saw them when I last visited that city." I smacked a fist into my palm in excitement. "Dude, it said you were a half-mad rogue mage who eradicated a small kingdom."
"Well. I have to say that is the first time I've heard that one."
"So, how exactly are you so overpowered?" I asked curiously
"Well, you know all the professions of magic?" When I nodded, he continued: "I can use them all. Most people are limited to just Fire or just Blaze Affinity, but I have yet to find a limitation."
"Can you fly?" I asked excitedly. I'd like to be able to fly, myself.
He sighed. "Yes."
There was a tap-tap-tap at the door. Horus leapt to his feet.
"That would be an acquaintance of mine. I will be out for some time. You can use the bed. I keep mine in my Inventory."
"Wait- but it's already dark outside!" I called after him.
The magician didn't seem to have heard me. I sighed, and went to find the bed.
The Ender Dragon slept on her favourite obsidian pillar, as usual.
But this time, something woke her up. Her Danger Sense were screaming.
Something was wrong.
She heard footsteps coming towards her, closer and closer. The intruder was being very quiet by normal standards, but her dragon ears could pick up the sound of a fly breathing from forty feet away if she wanted to.
The footsteps stopped when whatever it was was standing next to her.
She kept her eyes closed, pretending to be asleep, until she heard the sound of metal scraping softly.
The sound of a blade being drawn.
She lunged suddenly, with unnatural speed, and knocked the Enderman to the ground and pinned him under her claws. But the Enderman managed to teleport away, reappearing behind her and swinging his sword. Zariah simply flicked her tail, knocking the weapon away while tossing the Enderman into the air like a ragdoll, and slamming him into the obsidian, trapping him under her claws while weaving a net a violet light so he couldn't teleport out.
"Why do you seek to slay me?" The Dragon snarled in her mindvoice.
The Enderman struggled a bit before giving up. "Because you are a beast that has no right to rule over us, and because you are the Destroyer's ally."
"So Herobrine has lost the loyalty of the Endermen too, now." Zariah mused.
"We were never loyal to the Pretender!"
Zariah's eyes darkened.
"You have no clue as to what you're meddling in, youngling."
The Enderman's defiant look suddenly turned fearful as the Dragon bared her teeth.
"Please, don't kill me. I swear I won't try that again."
Zariah thought for a moment. The Enderman was very young, barely grown.
But Dragons had no mercy. Herobrine had seen to that.
"You should have thought about that before coming here."
She pushed the Enderman, still wrapped in the net of light, over the edge of her three-hundred and seventy-six block high pillar, and watched him fall and hit the ground, bursting in a shower of blood.
She turned to go back to sleep, his screams replaying in her ears like music.
Rule number one: Never disturb the Enderdragon while sleeping. She will get grumpy. Nether hath no fury as a Dragon deprived of her sleep.
Sorry for the delay. As stated above, I got banned from the computer. I did end up writing this at 3am at night, so it might be a little wonky.
Again, thanks for the reviews!