The latest original novel in the bestselling Minecraft publishing program!

Autorentext

Caleb Zane Huett is an author and game designer who lives in Athens, Georgia. His other books include Top Elf, Buster, and Buster Undercover. When he’s not writing, he’s almost always playing video and tabletop games. His favorite things in Minecraft are the axolotls.

Klappentext

The latest Minecraft adventure—a prequel novel to Minecraft Dungeons II!

All is right with the Overworld . . . or is it? Discover a sinister threat in this action-packed story. Heroes will meet new mobs, battle new foes, and be challenged like never before!

Leseprobe
Prologue

Harlow

Back then, they told us we were too young to help. It bothered Iliana more than it bothered me. I wanted to fight, but she wanted to do everything. Farming, building, enchanting, crafting—she’d even beg Mr. Ochoa to let her join the mining expeditions, which I never understood. Too dark down there for me.

On cleaning days, while I was pretending my broom was a sword, Iliana wasn’t wasting a second. She’d finish tidying her house, then come over and start organizing my things. “Faster, Harlow!” she’d say any time I got distracted. “This is our only chance!”

I’d tell her we had a chance every week. She’d say: “Faster, Harlow!”

So I’d sweep faster. And we’d run to whatever adventure she had planned for the daylight we had left, hiding from everyone on the way. We didn’t have parents, none that we’d ever met, but really that meant anybody in town could tell us what to do.

If the adults said we weren’t strong enough to farm, Iliana would craft us a hoe out of sticks and planks. Then, under her direction, I’d till a secret square of earth to plant the seeds from our breakfast melons. If the older kids said we weren’t smart enough for enchantments, she’d nab a book from the library, and I’d distract the villagers while she tried to make the town golem’s metal stronger.

Iliana didn’t care if it worked, only that she tried. And since I was her best friend, I had to try, too.

She was brave. I was lucky to be around her.

The illagers attacked on cleaning day, just after sunset. We were supposed to be home already, but we’d snuck into Mr. Ochoa’s house to practice with real swords. He had a collection of old weapons and tools hanging in frames on the wall—all iron, and mostly dull, used, and worn to the point of breaking. They seemed less precious than the polished, sharpened swords at the weaponsmith, so we thought we’d get in less trouble if we were caught. Plus, he had almost nothing else in his house—just a bed, shelves, a wide double chest, and a small closet locked with a heavy iron door. The big open space in the middle of the room was perfect for sparring in secret.

I was a little stronger, a little faster—but Iliana was learning more than I was. Even when I won, I’d look to her for notes. She saw how things fit together—why I won, and why she lost, and how we could both get better. It was during one of these moments, when she was explaining how swinging from above my head looked strong but was also very easy to see coming, that the door slammed open.

“There you are. Good.” A short, stocky man with dark brown skin and a black beard stepped into the house. It was Mr. Ochoa—the strongest person I knew. If anyone was “in charge” of our village, it was him. Not because he bossed people around, but because everyone trusted him. We froze in place, waiting to hear we were in trouble. But he didn’t even seem to notice the swords in our hands. “Stay put. Hide. I’ll come back for you.”

I didn’t understand. Iliana did. “The Arch-Illager.”

Mr. Ochoa frowned. To our surprise, he pushed a button hidden in the corner, opening the iron door. He grabbed the most powerful-looking sword I’d ever seen, made of a strange dark metal, out of the closet. Then he pulled a suit of matching armor off an armor stand. Iliana had told me once that the metal was called netherite, and it was so precious Mr. Ochoa never let us touch it. He inspected it for a moment, then moved out of the way and pushed the button again, shutting the door. “Who told you about that?”

“I heard that’s why you have everybody doing drills. That he might attack here, too.”

I swallowed in fear. The Arch-Illager was a super-powerful illager who was leading an army of illagers around the world, destroying villages and conquering the Overworld. I’d heard of him, but I never thought he’d come to our village.

Somebody outside screamed. Heavy stomping footsteps shook the tools on the walls. Mr. Ochoa winced and nodded. “Yes. He’s here. At least his forces are.”

He peered out the window at something eclipsing the setting sun—something enormous. With one hand, he pointed. “Harlow, hide in the chest. Iliana, there’s a one-block hole dug under the bed. Do not move. We’re going to carve a safe way out of the village, and then I’ll come back and get you. Got it?”

“Yes sir,” Iliana said. I was too scared to speak. She nudged me.

“Yessir!” I blurted out. Mr. Ochoa nodded, satisfied.

“Chest, bed,” he repeated, looking at each of us with his tired green eyes. “Now.”

Mr. Ochoa threw open the door—flames rose in the distance. Something huge made of red and gray stone stomped past the doorway. Mr. Ochoa deflected a swing of its giant arm with his shield, then turned and slammed the door behind him.

“That thing was full of redstone,” Iliana whispered. “The adults were saying the illagers aren’t raiding alone anymore. Now they have those monstrosities. Big ones.”

“What do they want?” I asked.

“I don’t know.” Iliana looked at the fear on my face and reached out to squeeze my hand. “But Mr. Ochoa said he’ll be back for us. Everything’s going to be okay.”

I nodded. I believed her. And then I said the thing I’ll regret for the rest of my life.

“Can I hide under the bed? The chest—”

“Too dark?” Iliana grinned at me. “Scaredy-cat.”

“I’m not a scaredy-cat!” I argued. “I’m just . . . I don’t like . . .”

“. . . to be in the dark, because you’re sc—” A stray crossbow bolt hit the windowsill. Suddenly teasing me seemed a lot less important. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ll take the chest. Let’s hide.”

Iliana tossed her sword on the floor and climbed into the double chest—she waved and smiled as it clicked shut. I pulled my sword with me under the bed and tried to make my heart stop beating so loud.

We waited for a long time, listening to the sounds of the fight outside. I could hear Mr. Ochoa yelling orders and the adults fighting to protect the village. I could hear the groaning of zombies and the loud heavy stomps of whatever else was out there. Red and orange light flickered in the window, cast by flames lit on other buildings. Our village was being destroyed.

“Hunh.” Someone grunted as they shoved open the door. I almost leaped out of my hiding place, ready to be rescued, but I didn’t recognize the dark boots or the striped green pants. Four figures stepped into the house and looked around, speaking in short bursts to each other in a language I’d n…