Hello! This is my entry for the "Tales From the Nether" contest, I hope you enjoy it!


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BLACKBONE

Irma climbed up to the giant skeleton with ease, her sword in one hand and a potion in the other. She stood in awe of the massive bones, wondering what sort of enormous creatures had once lived here in the Soulsand Valley. The Nether was a vast expanse beyond most people’s imaginations…

“Y… You must… you must wait for me, woman! I didn’t hire you to ran away!”

Irma rolled her eyes and cast a baleful look upon Uran as he pathetically hauled himself over the edge of the precipice she herself had just conquered. Dressed in fine silks and draped in jewels, the nobleman wasn’t even vaguely prepared for the tough journey.

“You hired me to help you find the Nether Fortress, not babysit you,” she replied. “Also, you look like a clown. You should be wearing the armor I gave you, not your royal robes.”

“The armor itched,” Uran huffed, brushing off soul soil and taking a deep breath. “Besides, what noble needs armor when they already have an excellent bodyguard like Will?”

Irma stole a quick glance at the rugged youth overtaking the precipice behind her. He had been silent the whole journey, and rather distant as well. So quiet, she thought. Will he speak up now?

Will glanced at the humongous skeleton nearby for a moment without interest. His eyes were half closed and had a glassy look that made Irma wonder if he was possessed.

“Well, then!” Uran said, clapping his hands together and breaking the silence. “Are we just going to stand around and do nothing? I have a Nether Fortress to conquer! Onward, my Nether escort!”

Irma rolled her eyes again. It had become a habit.

She led the tiny expedition across valleys of the eerie brown earth, directing where they should step to avoid patches of soul sand. She traveled by the bones of creatures now extinct, enormous in size, and by pillars of basalt falling from the Nether roof. Several times, she was forced to reroute in order to avoid ghasts and skeletons – in fact, there were so many ghasts that she considered halting the trip altogether.

“Stop? Stop?!” Uran was practically beside himself when she suggested it. “I didn’t come here to fail, I came to conquer! There will be no stopping this trip until we have reached the Nether Fortress!”

“You don’t get it,” Irma insisted. “These ghasts’ fireballs are enhanced by the ashfall. Even an indirect hit could be fatal. You could instantly die-”

“Pish-posh! Just get me to the Fortress or I won’t pay you!” Uran snapped.

BOOM!

Irma whipped around, sword in hand, nerves on fire. The ghasts were still peacefully floating about, minding their own business, but the skeletons were agitated, shooting at something she couldn’t quite see through the falling ash.

“Oh, look!” Uran shouted, drawing Irma’s attention back to him. He jumped up and down like a excited toddler and waved his arms frantically. “There it is! There it is! THE FORTRESS!!!”

Irma shook her head, glancing in the direction he was pointing. “No, that’s not the fortress, that’s… that’s a…”

Her eyes widened as a fortress slowly appeared through the ash and smoke. A fortress so huge that it couldn’t possibly be real, it had to be a mirage. Nether brick spires towered above bridges lit with soulfire, with skulls and bows hung from every possible surface.

Uran whooped and scrambled towards it. Irma began to follow, dumbfounded, but a strong hand jerked her back. She spun around, sword ready.

Will’s eyes were still half-closed. But they were crystal clear as he told her, “If you go in there, you’ll never come back out.”

Irma gripped her sword tighter, glancing back at the strange fortress. Uran was climbing up inside, whooping and cheering. She glanced back at Will with a questioning look in her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“That fortress you see? It’s a death trap,” Will said. He stared up at the nether brick bridges and frowned. “It belongs to the Blackbone.”

“The who?”

“The Blackbone,” Will repeated. “Wither skeletons of the second highest caste. Masters of magic and the blade. They’re ruthless killers. They hate the Overworld and their ‘inferior’ archer brothers - you can see the skulls they collect as hunting trophies. That fortress is called Wither Keep; it’s their homebase.”

"Wither skeletons have castes?"

Will nodded sagely. "They have something similar, at least. It starts with warriors - you've probably seen and fought a hundred in your average fortress. Then there's the magicians, and they're almost always hiding, so you'll probably never meet them. Then there's the royalty, the Blackbone. And finally-"

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!" Uran shouted, waving his arms frantically. "BODYGUARD! COME OVER HERE AT ONCE! YOU TOO, MERCENARY!!"

Irma sighed. Oh, boy, we're exploring a death castle, she thought. How wonderful. And I still don't know what the highest caste is, she realized a moment later.

Will was somehow already halfway to the castle, with Irma in hot pursuit seconds later. The towering spires were empty, the bridges void of action. The deeper they went, the more agitated Irma became. She was tense, ready to fight to her last breath if necessary.

"Let's go down this way," Uran suggested, pointing at a section of the fortress that delved into the side of a netherrack mountain. "I'm sure it'll have loot. Are all fortresses this easy to raid? I could've done this blindfolded with a wooden sword! Besides, those black skeletons aren't anywhere near here, and the flying flame-sticks are missing, too."

"Blazes. Your 'flame-sticks' are called blazes," Irma informed him in exasperation. This is the most ridiculous noble I've ever worked for, she realized. He's a complete IDIOT!!

"What are you, an encyclopedia?" Uran spat. "Just get me my gold so I can give you your pay and get out of here!"

Irma glanced at Will and mouthed, Is this what you have to deal with every day?

"LOOT!" Uran shouted, causing Irma to jump and nearly take off Will's head.

The underground section of the fortress ended its march forward abruptly with a chest surrounded in netherrack dust particles. The tunnel turned to the right and wasn't lit up with blue flames like the rest of the fortress. But as Uran sprinted forward to loot, Irma realized - a second too late - that the piles of red dust were redstone.

"STOP!" she screamed as Uran threw open the trapped chest.

Twang-BOOM!

A hidden dispenser blasted Uran in the face with a fire charge. Irma was thrown backwards - not by the explosion, but by Will. The tunnel filled with smoke; a second later it caved in.

Irma blinked and coughed, stunned by the sudden turn of events. Then a revelation pulled her back into reality as she stared at the collapsed tunnel: I'm not getting paid.

"I guess that means no treasure," Will murmured, smoke puffing out of his mouth. "Huh. I guess we should leave."

Irma nodded. She felt deadened inside and a little sad about not getting paid. "Uh... you... what's the last caste?" She felt dumb as soon as she asked; they'd dropped that subject ages ago.

"Hm? Oh, the last caste," Will said. His mouth was still pouring smoke. "There's the warriors, the magicians, the Blackbone, and... wait, there's only three castes."

Irma eyed him suspiciously. You said there were four, she mentally accused him. You said it, I heard it, and I'll find out for myself if I need to.

Will gestured to the exit, and together they silently began the long trek back to the Portal. Irma glanced back one last time as the fortress was fading into the falling ash once more, wondering who the Blackbone were and why Will was lying about the-

A wither skeleton was standing on the last visible bridge of the fortress.

It was wearing black armor that looked as though it had been forged in lava and was still red-hot to the touch. In its right hand was a sword so black it looked like the Void; in its left was a shield with skulls tied to it with mysterious red twine. It smiled at her, and a chill ran down her spine.

We never forget, it told her as she began to sprint for the Portal. She could hear him even though he was hundreds of blocks away. We never forget, and we will hunt you down for desecrating our home.

Her legs ached, her head was spinning, but she kept running. She ran and ran and ran and ran and the Portal was broken and the world was spinning and she was in so much pain-

"IRMA WINDIGO!!"

Irma gasped and inhaled a lungful of smoke.

Will was kneeling over her, a loom of concern on his face. Uran was standing behind him, frustration etched into his features as he surveyed the collapsed tunnel and muttered about his 'lost treasures'.

"Are you alright?' Will asked, brushing a few loose strands of hair from her face. "The blast hit you hard. I tried to pull you back, but this idiot behind me tried to use you as a shield to protect him from the explosion."

"What's the last wither skeleton caste?" Irma demanded weakly, hacking debris from her lungs. "You... you tell me now."

"The veterans," Will said, confusion weaving its way into his expressipn. "A wither skeleton becomes a veteran if it scouts the Overworld and returns with the skulls of five master warriors. Why are you asking about that now? You should be concerned about your head."

Irma struggled to stand. "We need to go. There's - there's a - let's go. Now."

Uran - somehow alive - began to object, but Will gently lifted Irma into his arms and sprinted out of the fortress, leaving the nobleman no choice but to follow.

This time, Irma didn't look back.



The End