The Obsidian Cube Trilogy

By Mark Mulle

He is alone, lost, and with no memory of who or what he is. All he knows is his name: Steve.

The complete story of Steve in one book! 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark Mulle
• Release date: May 3, 2024
• ISBN: 9798869356079

Book preview

The Obsidian Cube

Book One: An Unknown Past

Mark Mulle

PUBLISHED BY:

Mark Mulle

Copyright © 2015

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

Disclaimer

This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in fictitious manner.  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Author’s Note: This short story is for your reading pleasure. The characters in this Minecraft Adventure Series such as Steve, Endermen or Herobrine...etc are based on the Minecraft Game coming from Minecraft ®/TM & © 2009-2013 Mojang / Notch

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Book One: An Unknown Past

Book Two: The Skeleton King

Book Three: The Mystery Revealed

Book One: An Unknown Past

Night was falling.

Steve shivered in the darkening forest. He was lost…no, more than lost. If you’re lost, it means you have a destination and don’t know the way there. He not only had no destination; he didn’t even know if there was a destination. For all he knew, he might be the only living person in the whole world.

Several hours earlier he had come to himself under the eaves of a black forest of huge dark oaks. The great trees spread their branches overhead in a perfect roof that blotted out the sun so completely that, at first, he had thought he had awakened at night. Here and there, enormous mushrooms added their spreading tops to the forest roof.

It was an eerie, disturbing place, filled with mysterious growls and groans and half-glimpsed figures moving among the trunks. Though desperate for any sign of humanity, Steve knew better than to approach those dark, moaning figures. Instead, he hurried on through the gloom, seeking some way – any way – out of the shadow of those dark trees.

Eventually, he emerged into a sparser forest of oaks and birch, where the trees were far smaller and didn’t block out the sun nearly as much.

In the light, he was able to take stock. He was wearing work clothes; a green shirt and blue pants. He had what felt like a three-day beard and his skin was rough and tanned, as if he did a lot of work in the sun. That seemed right, but he couldn’t remember anything about it. He checked his inventory; it was completely empty. 

With nothing better to do, he kept going. He had no destination or even any goals now that he had escaped the dark forest, but to stand still was obviously out of the question. And he had a vague idea that, if he kept going, he might find something or someone who would be able to help him. Or at least give him an idea of who and where he was.

So he kept walking. He had no idea how many blocks he’d gone from where he had awakened. He hadn’t picked up anything along the way except a few pieces of dirt he had carved up, and a pile of seeds, neither of which would do him any good. He was growing steadily hungrier, and he knew that before long he wouldn’t be able to run from anything that might spring out at him.

His mind went back to the half-glimpsed forms moving among the black trees, and he shivered.

Then, as if conjured by his recollection, he heard the same low, terrible groaning.

Steve stopped and turned in the direction of the sound. The sun was nothing but an orange glow along the horizon, but he could just make out three figures moving between the trees, making their way toward him with a shuffling gait, growling and moaning in a way that was both savage and unmistakably human.

He backed away but didn’t try to run this time. Fleeing blindly through the forest from unidentified foes seemed a stupid idea, especially since he hadn’t the foggiest idea where he could run to. Yet, at the same time, his options for defending himself were severely limited, as he had no weapons, tools, or armor to fight off any attackers. The best he could hope to do was throw up a quick and crude barrier with some of the dirt he was carrying.

Since neither fleeing nor fighting seemed a viable option to him, Steve simply stood there, frozen by indecision, as the three shambling figures approached.

He made up his mind the moment the first one reached him.

Razor-sharp claws dug into his skin, causing him to leap back instinctively, flailing. His fist struck what could only be cold, toughened flesh, and his attacker fell back with a snarl. Steve didn’t wait to strike again, but turned and ran for his life, doing his best to dodge among the trees. Many of the trees, however, were so low that their leaves barred his way, and he was forced to either try to feel his way around or to tear out a path through the foliage. He chose the latter, but it cruelly delayed his progress. He could hear the growling behind him as the creatures shambled after him.

Ripping his way out of the leaves, Steve staggered forward, too exhausted to run, but trying to put as much distance as he could between himself and his pursuers. The forest was almost pitch black so sometimes he only realized there was a tree in his way when he ran into it. Fear filled his stomach like lava as the full reality of his situation became clear; he had no food, no weapons, no shelter, not even any means of making light! He was doomed…

Then, as he came to the crest of a hill, he saw, faint and far away below him, light. Not sunlight (which would have been a relief) or even moonlight, but what seemed to be firelight. Hope flared again inside him. Where there was light, there might be people…there might be help!

Fixing his eyes firmly on the dim light ahead, Steve redoubled his efforts. Realizing it was easier to see above the forest roof, he jumped down onto the top of one of the trees and started to hop from one to the other. He still sometimes needed to carve out a step from the leaf blocks, but he was making much better progress this way. Soon he could see more lights. He even thought he could make out buildings…a village! That meant…

Something slammed painfully into his shoulder, knocking him off his perch and back into the undergrowth. Grimacing, he felt the point of impact and found a thin wooden shaft sticking out of him.

An arrow?

The shambling creatures hadn’t struck him as being able to use tools. This must be something else entirely. He wasn’t going to stick around to find out more. 

Tearing out the shaft, Steve surged to his feet and hurried on through the forest. There was no chance of climbing back into the canopy now, not in this darkness. But he was close now…very close. He could see the village through the trees.

Growls to his left…he dodged right. A thud as an arrow landed in a tree right behind him. He was through the edge of the trees. The village lay not thirty blocks ahead of him. He could see the lights, the buildings, a well, even green and yellow farmland…

There was a sudden, sharp hiss behind him, and the next moment, the world exploded.

Steve found himself flying through the air and landing hard on his back, staring up at the stars. He had maybe a single heart left.

Behind him, figures were emerging from the trees, skirting the crater left by whatever had just exploded. In the light spilling from the village, Steve saw that the shambling figures were men, but with green, rotted-looking flesh and torn clothing.

Zombies, he thought, remembering the feel of dead flesh when he had struck one. 

It was strange, but as he lay there, watching his death approach even as he had been within sight of the sanctuary, Steve found that he was able to regard it with some measure of equanimity and cool contemplation. It was all over now anyway; there wasn’t any reason not to be analytical. Maybe he’d at least find some answers before he died.

Along with the zombies came two walking skeletons carrying bows, one of whom wore a battered gold helmet. It