The Journals of Steve Book 4: Shadow's War

By Cube Hunter

Steve, Grumbles and their friends are up against the wall as they battle head to head with the Shadow and his armies at the Nimble Peak. The battlefield is a contested area, as is the future of Minecraftia. Will it be plummeted into chaos or will order and goodness reign supreme?

Steve has to plunge himself into the darkness t

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cube Hunter
• Release date: Oct 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798868956959

Book preview

Chapter 1: Introduction

Hello again, dear readers. What a pleasure to have you accompany me on this writerly romp through Minecraftian history. I rather fancy myself a historian nowadays. It’s exciting chronicling and mapping out all of these events, like little beads full of information on a piece of string that begins at the dawn of everything we know of and ends, well, no one knows where, but it sure seems like it could be a place full of darkness, and not necessarily of the bad kind which inspires nightmares and ghoulish horrors. I hope you’re settled in for the continuation of this journey. I’m sure there’ll be some surprises here and there and maybe some fruitful glimpses of adventure that don’t go awry but rather lead to something quite fantastic, or maybe not. You’ll have to read on to find out.

We left off with a dreary note about Charlie’s teacher, the Colonel, who happened to have sadly passed away. Not to fear, we also had a brief spat with the beastly forces of the Shadow outside of the Nimble Peak. Our heroes were lying down, looking up at the stars, wondering about the universe, life, and everything else too. They were having quite a good time, despite all of the numerous challenges that they were facing in the form of those beastly and wretched creatures that they had to fight. Well, it might be a bit harsh to call them beastly and wretched. They might have families, love lives, they might have many things which we consider to be good, usually speaking, but the one thing they don’t have is a special allegiance with the protagonists of this story or what we like to call the right side of history, the good guys. I’m fond of our heroes, I really am. I wish them all the best and hope that they exceed their expectations and mine, too, for I always get to this part of the story and wonder whether they are really going to get through or not. I know the ending, of course; everybody knows the end of this story in Minecraftia in our present day, but let’s imagine that I don’t and move forward with ignorance and hopefully a speck or two of joy.

Since the time of the great space-hopping bar keeps and the even greater metamorphosis from block-man to block-mouse, there has been one important development that we can thank Darlina for. She had been so kind as to take Gertrude, Grumbles, Steve, and Rosie, with Sparky too, and turn them all back into their original forms. She said that she rather liked them as mice. There was something vaguely cute about it, but she liked them even better when they were humans or Minecraftian humans, which is entirely different because as soon as you step foot into Minecraftia, you are all blocks, squares, and geometry. Once again, the troops, the newly armed warriors, were proudly shimmering in all their geometric glory. Many hugs were had and some head nodding and appreciation too. Steve had missed his old body. It felt odd not being able to see things past a certain height or rather to see them and to observe them as being magnificently large when before they were moderately sized or even small.

It was a beautiful crisp day, and there was bird song in the air. The twittering of notes that made up chords and choruses was abundant, as were the flickering and flapping of wings. There was a solitary mouse looking out at the horizon, noticing the hubbub of the dark and evil forces of the Shadow’s army. He seemed concerned. He was right to be concerned. If you look at an army and you aren’t concerned, especially when they’re on the opposite side than you’re fighting for, well, then I don’t know what to say to you other than to wish you plenty of luck because you’re sure going to need it. This might be the calm before the storm, and then we wish and pray for there to be another calm afterward, but any notion of that is far in the future, and our heroes’ minds need to be firmly planted in the present.

There were gangs of people, all acquiring goods, resources, wood, stone, and the like for buildings and battlements. The camp was no longer a camp of the sort that you would be familiar with, but rather it was a place with the greatest and most spectacular fortifications that you probably have ever seen. The wooden towers loomed upward into the air like the legs of giants, and the stone blockades too were enormously intimidating and, from a distance, looked like they were utterly insurmountable. The blood-thirsty warriors were all on the other side, waiting for a slice of mouse pie or maybe even a fairy to chomp on; whatever they desired, there was no way they were getting it in so far as this stone Goliath of a wall was separating the good from the bad.

The enemy’s territory was awash with cobblestone and begrimed with dirt and ash, which is always fitting for those most villainous members of our story, erected to look imposing and mystifying all at once. It was constructed in a semi-circular arch around Nimble Peak, and every part of the wall looked like it possessed a striking solidity, unbudgeable security. They had a sturdy and grim-looking wooden wall covered in spikes to ward off the faint of heart. Central to the territory was a wooden keep and surrounding that were armories, food suppliers, kitchens, and camps for the armies. An army didn’t run on gusto and imagination alone but rather needed the everyday necessities that would ensure their survival. The Shadow had ensnared Minecraftian civilians to do the leg work of providing him with the supplies that he needed to keep his army in top form, but one can only imagine that they weren’t fond of somebody as barbaric and horrid as the Shadow. Cruelty never did win over the masses, but kindness can still prevail.

Charlie was wandering and wondering, thinking about home and perusing her every memory to feel once again that glimmer of warmth that shoots up through your belly and reddens your cheeks. There it was, the fire in her tummy, and it was a pleasant fire too. Cozy, that would be the word to describe it. Steve was next to her and wandering and wondering too. He thought fondly of his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Plumpudding, and thought about all of the delicious confectionaries that he’d be gobbling down as soon as he got home. That was food for the soul and food for the heart and belly, all wrapped into one. It was an inspiring form of nourishment to ponder on the good in the world when your mind was constantly fixated on the bad and insufferable parts of it which were noisily and obnoxiously chanting, burping, and guffawing not too far away.

One of the most luxurious parts of camp life was the food; surprisingly, even during the midst of a war, there was access to positively delumptious goodies, which made your mouth water and your heart race. There was chocolate with a goo-like caramel tucked away neatly inside and which pleasantly attacked, attacked might not be the right word, bathed your mouth in sugary sweetness. There was bread, cheese, stews, pastries, full English breakfasts with all of the trimmings, vegetarian cuisine for the mice and those other woodland creatures which weren’t so set on nibbling on meat, and most delightfully of all a special treat that went by many different names and which tasted like a happy summer’s day and made you feel that way too. It was a sort of brew, but maybe even a potion too. Whatever it was, it was single-handedly one of the reasons why a good quarter of the people were there. Only the fairies could make it, and that was certainly recognized as common knowledge by the good, the brave, and the hearty. It goes by the simple name of Joy, and our heroes were more than aware of that. It’s not alcoholic,