Minecraft: Mob Squad: Never Say Nether: An Official Minecraft Novel

When I was a tiny little kid, I dreamed of what it would be like to ride a cow. As I grew up, I tried it over the years, with various amounts of success. As it turns out, cows don’t particularly want to be ridden. And even when we discovered that one of the old heifers didn’t mind being sat upon, she didn’t want to go anywhere. She just stood in the field, chewing her cud and switching her tail, no matter how much I urged her forward. I wanted to feel wind in my hair, to feel the reckless abandon of galloping atop long, wild legs.

Yeah, cows don’t do that.

But horses do, and as soon as I learned about horses, I realized what my dreams really meant. Nan tells me I have an adventurer’s spirit, that I’m descended from explorers who craved the open wilds. Maybe my longing for horses is something I inherited, like my red hair and freckles. And maybe I’m too weak to kick my horse and take off at a run across the rippling prairie, but the view up here still makes my heart sing, and my body feels a lot better now that I’m not the one responsible for moving it.

That explosion yesterday was the scariest thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’ve smelled Chug’s farts. I keep thinking that if only I’d kept a better eye on Jarro or told him about creepers or brought a cat along or hit the dang monster just a little faster, just a few more times, I’d now have a swollen sense of pride instead of a swollen…everything. My skin is burned, my clothes are singed, and everything I have is sore. It’s even hard to hear, like there’s this ringing in my ears. I ate as much chicken as I could, but I need more—more meat, more food, more of those magic potions Elder Gabe charged too much for back home. As glad as I am to have the horses—and I am glad, they’re a dream come true and our only way to catch up to Tok’s captors—I really wish Jarro had found something we could eat, too. I’m keeping my eyes peeled as we ride, knowing we’ll stumble across some sheep sooner or later.

We’re still headed along the same path we traveled last time, the beacon growing closer with every clop of Mervin’s hooves. I would’ve named him Dream, or maybe something with gravitas, like George, but instead, I guess now my majestic steed with his noble gray spots and rippling gray mane is…Mervin. He seems gentle, though, which is nice—I’d hate it if he hated having me on his back.

It’s kind of weird that Chug is leading, but we’re always learning new things, out here. The world spreads out before us as the wind ruffles my hair, and I would be truly and completely happy if I weren’t severely hurt and one of my best friends hadn’t been kidnapped. It’s funny how it’s possible to enjoy a little moment of mercy when everything else is falling apart, but I’ll take what I can get.

Time stretches out, golden as honey. We pass flowers and trees, and when we see sheep grazing, Lenna steers Dotty toward them, looses a volley of arrows, and proudly brings me chunks of raw mutton. It doesn’t taste as good as Chug’s food, but I know we don’t have time to stop and cook. If I want to heal faster I need quantity, not quality.

“I sure do miss your flaming arrows,” I say, accepting several chunks of meat as she shoves wads of dropped wool in her pocket.

“Me, too. But at least we get wool this way.”

She makes sure everyone has something to eat, and we chew as we ride. The trail certainly passes faster when you’re on horseback, but I just wish we could go a little faster. Even though I know it’s likely the kidnappers had to take shelter overnight, just like we did, I’m sure they have a head start on us, since they already had horses and didn’t lose the time we did this morning. If I weren’t so hurt, maybe we could gallop and go faster, but this is as fast as we can go right now. Luckily, it won’t be too long until we reach the village, and maybe we can trade for something that will get everyone back to full health. And find some of their amazing pies.

We must be going twice as fast as we could on foot, as we reach the village just before sunset. The last time we were here, it was pouring rain, and we didn’t know who or what we’d find in the oddly shaped houses. As we near the beacon, our horses move faster, their legs a blur as the flowers whip past us. We head straight to a small building that was empty when we were here last, and Chug looks in the window and gives me a thumbs-up.

“I’ll go trade for goodies,” he says. “Jarro, do you need to heal, too?”

Jarro shrugs. “I feel a little beat up, but in a good way.”

“That’s what hard work feels like,” Lenna tells him with a grin.

Chug dismounts and stares at his horse for a moment. “I guess we don’t have any more leads?” We all know by now what’s in our pockets, which is not leads. With a good-natured shrug, Chug hacks a paddock in the ground, just like we did last time. We settle all of our horses safely in there and head into the empty building as he goes out to trade with the villagers. When the iron golem walks past him on his endless patrol, Chug gives him a salute and says, “Hey, Rusty! Keep up the good work!”

Once we’re inside the building, I give a little sigh of relief. I’m not used to feeling weak and helpless like this. Outside of the time I got poisoned by our old nemesis Krog, I’ve never taken more than minor damage. It takes everything I have to slump down the wall to sit on the ground without just collapsing.

“What is this place?” Jarro asks. He’s got his nose pressed up against the window. “What was that thing? These people are really weird.”

“The villagers are a mystery,” Lenna says. “They don’t speak our language, and we can’t figure out theirs, but they craft interesting things and love trading. The thing Chug called Rusty is an iron golem that patrols the village and attacks hostile mobs. Don’t hit one, or it’ll attack you, and believe me: You’ll lose.”

She hands me another piece of mutton, and I get to eating. One of the horses whinnies from outside, and I freeze.

What if the kidnappers stopped here, too?

“Lenna, do you have enough energy to take your bow and look around the village?”

She perks up. “Sure. But why? The villagers are peaceful.”

“But the kidnappers aren’t, and if it makes sense for us to stop here, it might make sense for them, too.”

Lenna’s eyes go wide as she realizes the gravity of the situation. They could already be here. They could be watching us. They might already have Chug. She bolts to her feet, nods at me, and heads out with her bow in hand and Poppy trotting along behind her.

“Want me to go, too?” Jarro asks.

I shake my head. “You’ve never fought a person before, not really. With her bow, Lenna can do damage from afar.” And she’s not afraid to use it against enemies, and you are, I want to say but don’t.

Jarro paces around the small building, and I feel the same frantic energy. If the kidnappers are nearby, we’re basically trapped here. I’m helpless, and he has no experience. Chug is taking longer than anticipated. Even if our plan is ultimately to find the kidnappers and take Tok back, we’d rather all be together, at full health, and ready to fight rather than be caught unawares and separated at nightfall.

The door flies open, and my hand goes to my pickaxe—

But it’s just Chug, and he’s exuberant.

“Excellent trading!” he crows. “I’m so glad my pockets are always full. I unloaded everything that we didn’t really need and got the things we needed most.” He holds out an arrow. “My lady, your Arrow of Healing.”

I take the arrow and inspect it. It looks odd, with a glowing pink tip. “I was hoping for a potion.”

Chug’s brow draws down. “Yeah, me, too. But I went into every single shop and couldn’t find one. I did get some steak and some rabbit stew.” He guiltily wipes at his mouth. “And some pies.”

“But what do I do with the arrow?”

“No idea. But it’s the only thing around that has anything to do with healing, so I just handed over the emeralds. Maybe Lenna will know?” He looks around the small house. “Wait, where is she?”

“I realized that the kidnappers might be thinking the same way we did, so I asked her to scope out the village—” I start.

Chug immediately goes to the window and looks around. The sun is setting. Even if the kidnappers aren’t lying in wait to ambush us, the hostile mobs will start spawning soon.

“Should I go after her? She can’t fight them alone— Oh.” He opens the door, and Lenna hurries inside. “All clear?”

“No sign of Tok or the kidnappers.”

Chug manages to look both disappointed and relieved. “Then I guess we don’t have to share all this food.”

We sit down to enjoy the village cuisine. Lenna eats more steak than I’ve ever seen her wolf down and instantly perks up. I feel the same way, although I have to switch to rabbit stew once my jaw starts aching from chewing so much. I still feel a little singed and woozy, though, so I hand her the Arrow of Healing.

“Know how it works?” I ask.

Her mouth twitches. “Yes. I read about it in one of Nan’s books…but you’re not going to like it. I have to, uh, shoot you.”

Chug’s eyes fly wide in alarm. “No way! That’s the opposite of healing!”

“I don’t make the rules,” Lenna says.

Before he can argue and before I can even raise my hands in defense, she whips out her bow and shoots the arrow directly into my belly. I gasp, but it doesn’t hurt—it has that same, warm, melty feeling of a Potion of Healing. I reach for it, but it disappears.

“Oh,” I say dreamily. “That’s nice.”

“Your eyebrows grew back!” Chug shakes his head, looking like an exhausted mother hen. “But I don’t think I can take any more scares like that tonight. No more shooting anyone, even if it’s ultimately helpful.”

Once he’s recovered from his shock, Chug pulls out his crafting table and uses the wool Lenna collected earlier to make two more beds—there’s just not enough for three. The boys play bedrock-paper-sword to determine who gets the third bed, and when Jarro wins, Chug looks put out but doesn’t argue. He curls up on the ground, pie stains on his cheeks.

“I’m much better at trading than I used to be, you know,” he says. “And I’m really good at saying ‘hm’ now.”

“Hm?” Jarro asks.

“Hm,” Chug confirms, sounding exactly like a villager.

Lenna and I laugh, but we’re interrupted by one of the worst sounds in the world. Something thumps against the door, nails scratching down the wood.

“What is that?” Jarro asks, shrinking back in his bed.

“Just a zombie,” Chug says blandly.

“Can it get in?”

“Nope. My brother built that door, and it’s as solid as they come.” Chug gets up and walks over to it, running his fingers over the wood. “When we stopped here last time, the door was flimsy and had a window in it. But Tok made this one, and here it still stands.”

“Huh. I guess that’s pretty impressive,” Jarro says.

Chug nods. “It really is.”

I fall asleep after that, and it’s like falling down a deep, dark hole. It was like that when I had a Potion of Healing too, like your body knows that it has more healing to do while you’re out cold. When I wake up, all is well, and I have to admit that the village house is much more comfortable than the holes I dig in the ground. Then again, being off the floor in a cozy bed helps, too. As I look around, I notice that the two beds Chug crafted last night are of better quality than the first one he made. Like his brother, he gets better with every item he crafts. Chug always undervalues himself, but it’s clear he pays attention to what Tok does and tries to improve his skills.

As we remount our horses, our pockets packed with food and our bellies full of pie, I look to the mountains beyond the village. If I’m right, and I sense that I am, the dropped bits of coal and iron will lead us up to a pass, then down a treacherous, zigzagging trail that ends at a raging river. There was a log over the river, once, but we pushed it into the water to thwart the brigands who’d set up a trap to rob unwary travelers, including us. On the other side of that river lies a dark forest, and in that dark forest is a woodland mansion. If I were a bad guy, it’s definitely where I’d be going.

I wish there were a way to get there first, because whoever does has a huge advantage over anyone attempting to storm it. There are dozens of rooms, dozens of windows, hundreds of places to hide. Even though we cleared out all the illagers and other hostile mobs, there are still plenty of dark places where zombies and skeletons can spawn. It would be much easier to defend the woodland mansion than it would be to attack it. We just have to get there first.

And that’s when it hits me—

We can get there first, but we can’t do it on horseback.

There’s a faster way, a way that doesn’t depend on crossing the river.

Before we found the village last time, I discovered something odd while digging out our nightly shelter: a hole in the ground.

That hole leads to a fortress, hiding innocently under the plains, and in that fortress, there are mine tracks that lead directly to the woodland mansion’s basement.

“Hey, Chug,” I call.

“Yeah, Mal?”

“Think you can craft a mine cart?”