Chapter 12
Risk and Reward

"Good morning," I called out to my grazing friends. "Look what I just learned."

I held out yesterday's uncooked salmon.

"Notice anything different?" I asked. "Exactly! There is no difference! Because I just discovered that this world keeps everything preserved."

"Baa," said Flint, turning with Cloud for another patch of fresh grass.

"Yeah, maybe for you that's no big whoop," I said, "but in my world, food spoiling is a huge deal. Back in the day we had to dry or salt or…I think that's why spices were invented. I'm sure I heard that once. Even now, everything's gotta be frozen or refrigerated or packed with preservatives, which can be just as dangerous as spoiled food. But this"—I gave the salmon a reassuring sniff—"this means I don't have to waste any time trying to figure out how to store my grub. I can bank as much as I need for as long as I need it, which means I got hunger licked!"

"Frrph," snorted Moo, warning me not to celebrate just yet.

"Right," I agreed, grabbing my fishing pole from my pack. "The garden's still tiny and the fish won't catch themselves."

After crafting an outdoor furnace, and breakfasting on rich, oily salmon, I parked myself on the island's southern shore and spent the rest of the morning fishing. I can see why so many people in my world do it for fun. There's the anticipation of a first bite, the thrill of feeling something on your hook, and that last moment before you reel in your catch when you wonder exactly what's on the line.

That last part really came into play when I discovered how many different things swam in the sea. In addition to the salmon and the little blue-gray fish were two other species that I immediately recognized from home. The first was striped orange and white, and the second was yellow, roundish, and spiky. Like I said, I may not have personally fished back in my world, but I'd seen enough movies or gone to enough aquariums to know that these were "clowns" and "puffers." Since neither turned out to be cookable—and I wasn't going to risk poisoned sushi—I packed them away for some possible future use.

Ironically, my third inedible catch was the exact reason I'd started fishing. Squids are a real pain in the…well…the lower rear portion of my body that this world won't let me sit on. They don't come to your hook like fish, and when I did manage to snag one, it kept wriggling free. After several exasperating attempts, I got one close enough to the shallows to hack it to death with my axe. And then, as a final insult, I found out that the little bit of black meat it dropped wasn't really meat but a gland my mouth wanted no part of.

"Whatever," I said with a shrug to Moo, examining the three salmon and half dozen blue-gray fish in my pack. "Maybe just a few more, just to be safe."

Whipping the hook out to sea, I waited for the inevitable V. A few minutes later, I spotted one, and braced for the mild jerk of a bite. But it wasn't mild at all. It was harsh and powerful, as if something much bigger than a fish was at the other end of the line.

"Whoa!" I blurted, nearly dropping my pole. Was I right about a momma squid, or a giant sea monster? "Be brave." I gulped and yanked the quivering rod.

I never would have expected, never could have imagined, what popped up from the bubbling surface. Not a fish, not a monster, but a pair of old, raggedy leather boots. "Are these mine?" I asked Moo. "Do ya think they fell off my feet when I woke up in the sea? Could they have just drifted here with the current?"

If that wasn't the answer, then someone else must have made them…and at that moment, the world around me felt much bigger.

Putting them on, I found they fit snugly over my painted-on shoes. "They have to be mine," I said, "unless everyone in this world has the same shoe size." I took a few practice steps. "And they feel pretty good, too, and the extra padding really helps cushion my feet."

"Frrph!" scolded Moo, who began to walk away.

"Yes, I know they're cowhide," I argued, following her, "but I can't just throw them away. I mean, yeah, they're a little ratty and all, but the extra foot protection…"

The word stopped me in my tracks.

Protection.

A few days ago, I never would have made this mental leap, but now my well-fed, well-rested brain latched on to the concept of safety.

"Do you think," I asked Moo, striding over to where she was lunching with Cloud, "this world will let me make more clothes out of other materials?"

"Baa," said Cloud, now with a fully regrown coat.

"No, no, I don't mean wool," I told the sheep. "I mean iron. I mean armor."

"Moo," said the cow, voicing a ton of questions.

"Armor," I repeated. "Something I can wear over my clothes that will stop a zombie punch or a spider bite."

"Baa," asked Cloud.

"No, I'm not sure I can do it," I answered. "I don't know if this world will let me. But now that I've conquered hunger, the last basic need is safety."

I took off the boots, gesturing with them to the horizon. "And once I cross mob attacks off the list, I can stop worrying about survival and start asking the really big questions."

"Moo," said Moo.

"Yep," I answered, looking at the ground beneath my feet. "Looks like I've got a lotta mining to do."

Loading up on torches and a couple of spare pickaxes, I headed down the spiral staircase. It was slow, boring work, one gray block after another. I did have a few false alarms, though, when I started coming across other types of rocks. They were all speckled gray, white, and pink. They were also utterly useless, and not even worthy of a name.

It was almost a relief to break the monotony with a pocket of dirt. Using my shovel, I started scooping, and let out a resounding "aww yeah!" as the last cube revealed a wall of iron ore. "End of the line," I chirped, not realizing that it was just the beginning.

Behind the eight orange-flecked blocks, I discovered an entirely new ore. This one was red, and like coal and iron, embedded in standard gray rock. "Now, that's kinda cool," I said, as the first strike of my pickaxe caused the small cherry freckles to glow.

Now, if you know of any similar kind of substance in our world, feel free to add a footnote to this story for any future travelers. But since I've never seen or heard of anything close to this red stone, I'm just going to call it "redstone."

Later, much later, I'd learn that this was one of the most valuable, useful commodities of this world. At the time though, I was so ignorant that I didn't even know how to mine it. I tried a few swipes with my stone pickaxe, but all that did was obliterate the entire rock.

Maybe an iron pickaxe would do better, I thought, deciding to put iron tools ahead of iron clothes.

After climbing back up to the bunker, I threw the raw ore into the furnace, then carried the finished ingots out to my forest-side crafting table. After making an iron-tipped pickaxe, I tried my hand at anti-mob fashion.

Ninety seconds later, I had my answer.

"This world will let me make armor!" I called to Moo, holding up an iron cap.

Donning my new helmet, I was shocked at how light and comfortable it felt. Wasn't armor supposed to be the opposite: heavy and hot and really scratchy?

"How cool is this?" I asked, strutting around the grazing cow. "Comfy and monster proof."

"Moo," warned my ever wary friend.

I answered with a dismissive wave. "I won't assume anything until it's properly tested. On the other hand, I'm not gonna stop mining while I wait for that test to happen."

After another restful, dreamless sleep, I raced downstairs like it was Christmas morning, which it kinda was considering how many presents were waiting for me below. The thought of more iron, and this new mysterious redstone, was enough to lighten my every step.

I'll cut to the chase. The iron pickaxe let me mine the redstone out of the rock, but after some quick underground crafting experiments, I wasn't able to make anything more than a torch. And that dim, sputtering little torch, by the way, didn't throw nearly as much light as the regular coal-tipped model.

"Well, that's a letdown," I said, pocketing the rest of the redstone. I turned to my new shiny metal pickaxe and said, "but at least I got you now."

And what a leap over the stone model that was! Not only is an iron pickaxe twice as efficient, but it can take twice the punishment as well.

Now the Iron Age has come, I thought, knocking stone after stone aside. Better tools and armor and…who knows what else I can make!

Half a day later, I'd mined enough iron to craft a chest plate or breast plate or whatever the proper term is for an iron shirt. Just like the helmet, it was light as a feather, and just like the doors and hatches of this world, the arms moved on invisible joints. "Perfectly flexible," I called out to Moo, waving my stone axe in mock battle. "A few more hauls and I'll look like a hero from a fantasy novel, or from the real Dark Ages."

At that, Moo shot me a curious look.

"No, it wasn't actually dark," I explained, "more like an expression for dumbness. It was this place and time when people didn't read, and bathed, like, never, and fought a lot because they couldn't think of anything better to do. And because they fought so much, they had to wear iron clothes and…"

My voice trailed off. Now that I had the image of a floating, full suit of armor in my head, I saw the natural accompaniment that had escaped me until that moment.

"SWORD!" I shouted to Moo, the sheep, and anyone and anything that would listen. "I GOTTA MAKE A SWORD!"

I hit the stairs at light speed. "Please, world, let me make a sword," I prayed, picking through endless stones.

The gray wall fell away, revealing dim orange spots. I couldn't wait to get upstairs; I had to know right then. Sweating as my new furnace turned the little hollowed-out chamber into a sauna, I cursed this world for not letting me cross my fingers.

I didn't need to. It worked! Just one stick under two iron ingots gave me a weapon of lethal beauty.

"You are safety," I told the sword, "for you are strength."

And yes, if you're wondering, this world will let you make both a stone and wood sword if you want. And yes, I'm not exactly pleased with myself for not thinking of it sooner. But let's just remember the rule about not dwelling on past mistakes, shall we, and focus on the accomplishments of the present.

"You need to be named," I told the double-edged blade. "Isn't that what the little guy in that story did after he killed the giant spider, or when that king pulled his sword from the stone? That's kinda what I did, plus a few extra crafting steps. He had Excalibur, whatever that means, and I have…"

I kicked around a bunch of awesome names: Slayer, Stormbrewer, and Fire of the Eternal Flame. What I settled on didn't sound as cool, but better exemplified what this weapon meant to me.

"Since your job is to protect me," I said, "you will forever be known as Protector."

And with a few theatrical slices, I added, "And just wait till the nightscum up top taste your wrath."

"Squeak."

I froze, wondering if I'd just heard my own boots.

"Squeak."

No, not me. This was something else, something close, something that had to be right behind the rocks.

"We got company," I told Protector, and switching it for my iron pickaxe, tried to trace the source of the noise.

Remember how I said a while back that sounds on the island have the annoying habit of coming from all directions? Well, it's no different underground. The first tunnel I made must have been in the completely wrong direction, because a minute or so in, I heard the squeaking sounds fading. Turning around, I only tunneled a little way before the stone block in front of me suddenly vanished. And I don't mean cut out or disintegrated. I mean it literally poofed away like a dead mob!

In its place was a small, gray, prickly creature that looked like a crab and a porcupine had a child. "Well, hi there," I said, stepping up to what I thought was a perfectly harmless critter. "It's nice to meet—OW!" I jumped back as little teeth stabbed through the leather of my boot.

"Why, you little…" I began, but let out an undignified "yeee!" on the second bite.

"Get outta here!" I squealed, backing up the stairs. It wouldn't leave me alone, snapping and nipping and doing its best to tick me off.

"I'm warning you!" I said between yips and yelps. "Seriously! Don't make me have to—"

The next bite was its last, as one good sword swipe made for one dead "crabupine."

"Sorry you didn't have a more heroic debut," I told Protector. "But we now know the source of the noise."

And then, on cue, came another squeak.

"Or not," I said, realizing that the little toe biter had backup. Sword raised, I stepped cautiously back into the crabupine's tunnel. This time I didn't even need the pickaxe as two more stones puffed into a pair of gnashers. "Well," I said, slicing them into dust, "at least now I know to make some iron shoes for—"

"Squeak."

Seriously, I thought, wondering how many more annoying crabupines lay in wait.

"Squeak," came the sound, closer than ever.

"Wait a minute," I said, taking a moment to listen. The sound I'd been hearing all this time was close, but not exactly like a crabupine's crackling SNAP. This was more of a squeak like you'd hear from a mouse or a rat.

"Great," I said sarcastically, "now I get to have my toes nibbled by vermin."

Pickaxe in hand and sword in belt, I bashed away at the stone wall in front of me, and gasped when a block fell away into pitch black. Hot, moist air whooshed through the opening, along with a small, brown, winged creature.

Bat! I thought, and drew Protector. Didn't bats suck your blood? Would it go for my neck or my eyes? The answer was neither, as the birdlike rodent flew right past me and up the staircase to the surface.

"You better be the last thing I find down here!" I called after it, grateful that I didn't hear any more squeaks.

I cleared out the tunnel's second stone, making an entrance tall enough to walk through. Before taking one more step, however, I made sure to place a torch on the floor in front of me. Its flickering light barely touched the walls and ceiling of a truly massive cave.

I could see several collections of coal, redstone, and, to my great joy, iron, all embedded in the nearby walls. "Jackpot!" I shouted, rushing past the circle of light. More torches revealed more iron, more coal, more…

CLICK.

I froze.

CLICKETY-CLACK.

Bones? No, can't be. Not down here.

An arrow whistled out of the darkness, striking me in the shoulder. I spun, more from the impact than the actual wound, as the iron shirt had stopped it from going too far in. To my utter shock, I saw a skeleton archer clattering into the glow.

"How'd you get down here?" I asked, raising Protector. "Can you spawn underground as well!?"

My enemy answered with another arrow, this one hitting my ironclad chest. I winced, charging forward with Protector poised to strike. Two arrows, yes two, met me halfway. The first came from the skeleton in front of me, the second from the darkness behind it.

Wha…where…

Stunned but not deterred, I tried another frontal assault. A pair of projectiles knocked me back. Now I could see the second skeleton, clacking out of the shadows to plant a well-placed arrow in my chest.

"You're"—I paused as another volley punctured my shirt—"you're not even s'posed to be down here!"

Still reeling from surprise and disbelief, I hesitated just long enough for another twin shot to kick me back. Looking like a pin cushion, I now saw that my present strategy could only get me killed. Even at my quickest run, I'd never get close enough to hit them, and my armor and hyper-healing would only hold for so long. I'd never outlast the bombardment.

"All right then!" I shouted, turning and running for the exit. "You come to me!"

Zig-zagging through the endless barrage, I pranced back into the safety of the tunnel. The boneys were clicking just a few steps behind.

Good, I thought, hiding off to the side of the entrance.

Earlier I'd learned about the value of thinking under pressure. Now I had my first chance to practice it. Distance, I realized, was the ally of the bow and the enemy of the sword. Cramped quarters, however, might just even the odds.

As the first fleshless face clacked into view, I slammed my blade right into it. The skeleton pivoted toward me, shooting point-blank into my leg. I hissed as the arrow lanced deep into my unarmored thigh. "Now you die!"

A final slash and the sniper puffed away. Before the smoke cleared, the second thoughtless bonehead took its place. This time I learned enough to keep to the corner of the chamber, just close enough to strike, but obscured enough to prevent a clean shot.

"Eat this, Boneboy!" I growled, as my blade sent the second skeleton to meet his partner. I slumped against the rear stone wall and reached frantically into my belt for some fish. The one I'd brought along as a snack was enough to close most of my wounds and dissolve the forest of arrows growing out of my chest. As they vanished one by one, I saw that the holes they'd made in my armor remained.

"Gotta learn to fix those," I said, seeing that Protector had also taken a few scratches.

Looking down at my feet, I saw that the skeletons had left me several war trophies. I picked up another bow, two more arrows, and two dry, bleached leg bones. As I examined them in my left hand, the image of white powder appeared in my right.

Okay, now, if you already know what bone meal is for then give yourself a pat on the back. Oh, that's right, this world won't let you, just like it wouldn't let me pull an arrow out of mine. At that point, however, I couldn't care more about ground-up dead skeletons than the danger of more live ones underground.

"How do they do it?" I shouted, bursting through the door of my observation room. "How do mobs spawn in caves?"

"Moo," replied the munching cow, as if to say, "They just do."

"I thought it was safe down there," I complained, pacing angrily in front of her. "The whole point was to get stuff to protect me from the mobs up here!"

Moo snorted tersely.

I sighed. "I guess you're right. It's still totally worth it because whatever I find to protect me up here will also protect me down there." I took off my iron shirt, examining the cheese grater holes. "It's just hard to accept that there's gonna be challenges everywhere I go."

Moo snorted again.

"Good point. The sooner I accept it, the easier it'll be to prepare for it." I slid my battered armor back on, and pulled out my battle-tested sword. "Great risks come with great rewards."