Hero's Bane

Chapter 2: It's Only Getting Started

4/4/2022 I'm going through and updating, editing, adding bits of extra content in some chapters. I'm hoping to eventually finish this story, it's been over 10 years and I want my most prized story to have an ending. I might have been gone for a while but I have not forgotten my favorite written piece.

Steve's eyes shot open after a heavy droplet of cold water pelted his forehead. He quickly sat up in his bed and wiped away the irritating liquid. Through his disorienting daze he had realized just how cold and humid the room was, but upon closer inspection; he wasn't sleeping in a room and apparently he wasn't even in the Inn anymore. The walls were made of stone and the floor was very murky, the interior of his new space was open and filled with random formations; rock formations of stalagmites and stalactites. Steve rubbed his eyes thoroughly but it didn't help wipe away this outlandish illusion, he was definitely inside of a cavern. But how did he get here?

"Hello?" He asked but all he heard was the echo of his voice and the sound of water droplets continuously pattering against the stone ground. 'Where am I? Is there anyone here?' He thought. A sudden alarm went off in his head when finally realized that he was in an open dark space where monsters normally lurked. He pushed the damp covers away and hopped up off of the mattress. Steve staggered around with his hands and arms held out in front of him to feel for the chest that was supposed to be next to his bedside, it's where all of his items were stored for the night. Unfortunately, it wasn't there. His hands only met a cold wall.

It was then when Steve realized he was stranded in a cave without any lights or weapons or any means of supplies, he was starting to panic now with the thought of being surrounded by mobs with no means of defense. Though it was dark; he could still make out the shapes of his surroundings with his eyes still adjusted, the only thing that really caught his eye was the shape of a hole in the wall on the far left of him. It wasn't very open but it looked big enough for a person to fit through, like a dug-out doorway. There wasn't any other place to go except through that hole so he bravely moved towards it with his bare feet, carefully taking his steps so that he wouldn't slip and fall on the wet stone beneath him.

He grabbed the edge of the rock wall and peered through the large gap to see a natural staircase of stone descending further into the cave, there was a light; a very dim glow was softly illuminating the bottom of the tunnel. Steve was quick to head down towards his only means of protection, the only source that monsters would stay away from.

He nearly tripped midway, but he didn't let that stop him from making it down the stairway in a hurry. As he reached the radiant source it had appeared to be a Redstone torch. These torches weren't know for the light that they produced, but for the energy they gave off. 'So is it powering something?' He thought, looking around for any indication of a automatic devise. His quick search provided nothing, it wasn't attached to nothing in particular and there wasn't any Redstone dust to connect the power to anything. It was just a dim torch sitting in a dead-end cave. There was nowhere else to go and nothing to do from his standpoint, so how did he get here? How did the torch get here? Mining in his sleep was definitely out of question, his hands where surprisingly clean and the walls had no evidence of being picked at. So was he kidnapped? The village was filled with a bunch of quiet and scared weirdoes, so that wouldn't be surprising if he was kidnapped. Steve decided to pluck the torch from it's precarious spot and return to his so called 'room' where maybe there would be some kind of button or lever that could be powered to open a passage way and hopefully lead him to an escape to the surface.

As he removed the lit rod from the spot on the floor; sounds of monsters could be heard from everywhere almost instantaneously, especially through the walls. The sudden, loud groans and growls form the creatures terrified him, all he had was his fists and a Redstone torch. He couldn't fight like this, not with so much darkness and the possible horde of monsters that could be surrounding him. Steve dashed back towards his stone enclosure and prayed that he could get out of this bizarre mess soon. He then steadily crept back through the doorway and right over to his bed with caution, making sure no mobs had been occupying the area. He waved the torch around to see anything to help him escape but he came up short. He then proceeded to the right side of the room where he scanned the walls and floors but he had also found nothing on that side either.

'How did this happen?' There wasn't any way he could be down here, it didn't make sense. That was unless someone had buried him alive, a nightmare he didn't want to have.

"Sttsssssssssssssss…"

That all too familiar sound was unmistakable. Steve instantly spun on his heels and only feet away stood a shuddering Creeper, his eyes widened and he yelled out in horror as he threw his hands and arms up to cover his face to protect his head over anything else. The green four legged mob quickly expanded and as the miner tried to back away; he bumped into the wall just as the explosion surrounded him in an intense bright light.

…

"Ahhhhhhaaa!" Steve shot up from his pillow and screamed, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest. Sweat beaded his forehead and gently rolled down his moist skin as he looked around his surroundings, he was back in his small room at the Inn. He sighed in relief and let his head fall back to the comforts of his pillow, deeply breathing as he did; he brought his right arm over his chest and coiled his sweaty palm. The dream was so genuinely lifelike, like it wasn't a dream but as if it actually happened. Even the cold and dampness felt so real, it's not even possible to dream something like that up. He remembered how the water felt splashing against his face, how cold he was in the cavern and how cold he felt now. He shivered a bit and pulled the covers back over him. He closed his eyes once more after feeling he was somewhat protected from weak rays of light beaming through his window. It would be morning soon and he needed a little more rest for tomorrow's long journey.

…

Steve yawned loudly as he awoke, stretching his arms and legs and pulling the covers off of him. He was hesitant to just jump out of bed, even though the satisfying sounds of the burning Skeletons and Zombies groaning in pain made him feel safer. When he had fell asleep after his nightmare he didn't dream or if he did then perhaps he didn't remember it, but it should have been fresh in his mind. However, he just couldn't recall anything but a long boring-black blankness, it was strange. He slipped off the mattress and pulled on his shoes, he then grabbed his bag from the bedside chest and made his way to the lobby of the Inn.

As he stepped inside of the large room he saw Warren half asleep on a waiting bench, he was dozing off while sitting up but also leaning in an uncomfortable position that made Steve's neck hurt just by the sight of it. The miner made his way over to the service counter and placed three emerald ores onto the countertop. There wasn't anyone to take his payment at this time but the Inn keeper would eventually have come back soon.

"That won't be necessary." An old grumbling voice came from Steve's right. Warren lifted his head, blinking to clear his eyesight. "I've already paid for you." He then proceeded to pull himself away from the bench and he grabbed his iron axe which he was still packing and he also held a familiar sword.

"Umm… Okay?" Steve replied, swiping up his Minecraftian currency and stuffing it back into his pocket. He clearly revealed a bit of distress after seeing that Warren was still carrying his weapon, that man had to be very paranoid or crazy. "So.. Thanks, I guess."

"Ah ha ha." Warren laughed a bit after the miner stared at the axe in his hand. "There's nothing strange about sleeping with your weapon here boy. In this village all of us have a blade by our sides every time of the day. Once you go on your little exploration then you'll see what I mean." He strolled over and held out the sword. "I do believe this is your sword?"

Steve took it and studied the stone blade. It was chipping here and there and it had the initials of his name carved into the wooden hilt. He then swung it, feeling that old familiar and heavy swish. "Yeah, this is definitely mine. Must of lost it last night, and somehow managed to forget all about it."

"You were too concerned about the silence remember? Anyways, it's not too bad of a weapon being made out of stone. It's worn down and the hilt's made out of aged wood but it's still rather nice for a sword made of stone."

Steve held the blade out for the bartender to see, bringing it closer for a better look. "This blade here belonged to my father." He turned the cutting edge around and ran his hand over a large crack near the base of the blade. "It's quite old and I've used this thing for years, only during special instances of course. It's wearing down a lot now but this weapon had an important role in my family's history. I try to use my bow when I can or another kind of blade because this one is bound to break soon, the crack here was found after my father's death. It was his last weapon he used to fight with, the one he held when he was struck down by a monster."

"I'm sorry." Warren bowed his head in condolences and then leaned in and took a closer look at the weapon, somewhat estranged by the age of a stone sword and how it was still intact. The long thin crack was hard to see but it was there. "That's fascinating. This blade has to be old."

"It is. My dad made it like ten years ago." He took the sword and placed it back into it's sheath. "My most recent sword broke yesterday and I had no choice but to use my good luck charm last night. That was one of the other reason's why I came to the village, I needed a new one and some more food supplies before heading north."

"Sorry, but everyone here makes their own weapons. We've had a blacksmith once before but he was killed one night, a horde of those flesh-eaters got him then the Demon destroyed his station about a week after. Ever since- we just craft our own. I've made so many over the years that I have become quite experienced at making sharp blades, the problem is the method of making them."

"Fire, it's light. You can't have that around here." I'm right aren't I?"

"Yes… Uhhh-?"

"Steve." He quickly named. "Sorry if I haven't introduced myself yet, everything was just so sudden and strange when I came here last night."

"It's alright Steve, many passerby's don't name themselves either. They mostly die or leave once they see just how bizarre our town is. But you are right, our town cannot posses any form of light whether you believe our village's story or not."

"So if you can't forge any weapons here then how do you make them?" Steve raised a brow, tilting his head a bit in curiosity.

"There is a ravine east from here, about a three mile hike through some woods and rolling hills. It is there where we must descend every now and again to forge these weapons. It's also our destination for today, the entrance to the cursed valley in which you seek."

"There? So we have to go into a ravine to get in the valley?" Steve was a bit skeptic. There couldn't be a safer way that wasn't crawling with mobs? He thought.

"Yes. And it is not 'we' who will going into the ravine, only you. I plan to show you the way and then get back to the bar before my shift starts. I only go there to make my axes because there is a small lava pool just outside of the old fissure where we have set up a makeshift crafting station. It's not the best station or in the safest place to mold our weapons but we make do."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Steve opened the door and allowed Warren to lead, they walked out of the dim lobby and into the warm morning sun.

"Ahhh… Notch's blissful guiding light of protection." Warren smiled he then proceeded to head down the road.

"Hey, wait up!" Steve pulled the door closed and noticed that there was more villagers out and about today. There was a few that seemed to be engaged in a conversation while another was setting up a provisions booth. As he caught back up to Warren he felt eyes all over him. All of the townsfolk around them was starting so intently in his direction, some even ran back into their homes. "Why is-"

"Just keep walking boy, these people obviously don't know how to distinguish friend from foe."

"Wha-" Steve looked back and most of the people were already gone. "What do you mean?" He asked with a deep frown.

Warren stopped and turned around, heavily sighing and running his hand through his short-thin silver hair. "I honestly hate to say this- and I know you'll find it very- very hard to believe- but."

"But-?" Steve prodded for the answer.

"I have to say tha- that-" He stammered, a growing expression of nervousness clearly taking over. "Well, he looks almost, no. He looks 'just' like you."

"What? Is this some kind of a joke?" Steve felt a nasty churning in his stomach, despite the doubt.

"No! I've been completely honest with you friend, Herobrine…" He whispered. "You really do look like him. I didn't want to want to freak you out last night so I didn't say anything, and though you said you didn't believe, I still chose not to tell you. In fact when you came in the bar I almost thought you were him, but he does not speak, nor has he ever spoken and you have real human eyes unlike his soulless ones."

He raised a perturbed and yet curious brow. "Is that why the people hear are acting so strange with me around?" He was wondering why everyone seemed to freak out just by looking at him, or talking about him behind his back, and even hiding their own children from him.

The old man turned back around and the two continued their hike through the settlement. "I'm afraid so. We've lived in fear and torment for so long that what we now see is dread and despair, whether it be a single passerby or a caravan full of cheerful folk. People that are either doomed to die or lucky to live far from this place. This is why no one here is friendly or ever happy, because we are haunted by his ghost and his wrath. We've lost so many." His voice lowered. "This is a melancholy town where we never smile."

"Can't you just, ya know? Leave?"

Warren shook his head with a heavy frown and narrowed eyes. "We can't, that monster hates us and yet wants us around for his twisted tormenting pleasure. Passerby's leave just fine, but no residents make it out alive. If we go too far then we'll likely be found in the town square dead by the next morning, no one from our village makes it out of here. We live in this place and suffer that vile man's cruelty, can't even let my adopted daughter get too far; though I sometimes lose track of her in her explorations." He sighed. "Heh, teenagers."

"That's messed up." Steve felt bad for the bartender and all of his people, but that disconcerting thought of him looking like some demon freak was too hard to push aside in his head. "How can anyone look like me?" He placed a hand upon his chest. "I mean I had a brother, but he died ten years ago along with my father?"

"I don't know, perhaps you are just one very unfortunate individual having a similar taste in style. Or maybe it's rare coincidence to be born with that near identical look. In fact if you grow out a mustache and goatee then you'd simply look dead up like him, minus the soulless glowing white eyes of course. Now what I do understand is that he has been haunting us with that appearance for many generations, you never forget his face once you see it. Even my grandfather saw this demon with his own eyes and lived to tell, he lucked out and survived until he died from old age. My dad, uh he wasn't as lucky."

"Generations?" Steve silently question himself.

"Indeed. I almost begun to think that you came here with that look to scare us as a joke, but upon learning more about you I see that you are not that kind of a person. I know that I can trust you; for you have saved my life last night and fought valiantly to slay those monsters, that is why I paid for your stay." he gave a friendly nod.

"Oh about that, thanks. But you didn't have to."

"You've saved my life, I think I owe you something at least, right? I can't repay my gratitude in any other way other than pay for your room and show you the valley's entrance. I wish I could do more."

Steve put on a smile of gratitude and waved his hands. "That's okay, I don't see how stopping a charging Endermen could be considered as saving your life but I'll take your payment as you see fit."

"Thank you. It'd make me feel better that way."

Steve had seriously begun to wonder if this was all really happening, he was very skeptic at first. This whole Herobrine story had seemed like a big old hoax to begin with and now it seemed very real. Especially with those weird shining white eyes he saw last night still fresh in his mind. Warren and the townspeople seemed indisputably-forever scarred by past events, and he found that he could trust the old man. Maybe Herobrine did exist and maybe Steve was blindly walking to his death, but something told him that he need to see this monster; to see the truth. Maybe he could even find a way to stop his look-alike from ever terrorizing the people in this village ever again? He wanted to do something, to make a difference like his father and brother had done before him. Of course, while helping out the remains of his family in the process.

As Steve and the bartender exited the village he could still see the farmers and fieldworkers cautiously watching him as they tended to the wheat fields, one even scowled at them in disgust.

"Hey Warren?"

"What?"

"You say your town never smiles, but you seem more happy and optimistic then the rest. You actually talked to me and you looked very exultant when we came outside today. Now let's not forget how happy you seemed once we killed those monsters yesterday, you were so different from before then. Like a different person that wasn't hopeless."

He sadly sighed to himself but didn't bother to stop or turn around. "It's always easy to mask a feeling, but after making a new friend… which doesn't happen often; I have been feeling more at ease. However, that feeling will not last once you leave. I've met a lot of good people over the years and I only keep in touch with two of my old friends, I write to them and I think they are the only ones that keep me sane. As you can well imagine that the other people here don't have connections outside of this village, they plan to keep it that way. As being a bartender I at least meet new faces, no one else even bothers to make friends anymore."

"I just don't get that!" Steve quickened his pace until he was walking next to Warren. "Even if everyone here lives so close to the 'haunted' valley you shouldn't have to live in fear and back away from the good things in life! This is just madness, I can't see why you guys would put up with suffering when you could just find a way to try and escape from it. Herobrine can't keep doing this if you all come up with some plan, distract him somewhere and let the others escape or something like that."

Warren stopped then he headed into a small shack on the side of the road. He came back out within a few seconds with a bag in hand. "Sorry for the short-stop."

"Well?"

"It's not so simple, I wish it were. I wish I could find a way to make you believe all that I tell you but I'm not sure that you will, you are quite the skeptic one. Just like the other fools before you."

"Even so, I want to know why. I can trust you, so I think I can at least try to understand?"

Steve was at least willing to listen so Warren decided he'd give his best shot, maybe the miner might actually begin to believe and hopefully give up on this ridiculous quest. "Alright." He grunted and fidgeted with the edge of bag he held. "Want to know why we cannot simply escape? Not a single one of us? Well that would be because 'we' are the descendants of the people who… how should I say? Umm… yes, 'killed' Herobrine."