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I'm the one they talk about in hushed voices. They call my Jay the Ghast Tamer. They think I'm some sort of deranged monster king. Well, though a lot of what they say is hogwash, I can't lie that while most folks get around Minecraftia on horseback, I fly where I want to go...on Ghast-back. It started when went into the Nether one day with the intent to harvest Blaze rods for a trip to the End and came out with a Ghast egg instead. This is how it happened…

“Are you sure you want to do this by yourself, Jay?” my friend Eric asked me. “It seems kind of dangerous.”

“Pfft,” I scoffed. “It's not dangerous if you have the right equipment.” I patted the diamond sword in the sheath at my hip and slid my enchanted bow (sigh...only Power I) into the quiver on my back.

“Well, you can look for Blaze rods by yourself. I ain't going.” He started backing away. “But we can meet for coffee at the cafe later.”

“Yeah, you do that,” I said, and psyched myself up for the daring journey, rubbing my hands together in anticipation. “See you then.”

“Just be careful of Ghasts. This is the time of year when they're laying eggs, and you know how they can be when a human gets too close to their territory--”

“Sheesh, don't I know it,” I said.

“Yeah, well, it's even worse when you get too close to their nests.”

“Don't worry, dude. I can handle myself. I'll meet up with you after I've collected a couple rods. It'll take twenty minutes, tops.”

“Bye bye!” Eric spun on his heels and scurried off. He was a great friend...whenever he wasn't being a blistering coward. I sighed, rolled my eyes, and before allowing my mind to have a second though about it, jumped into the portal.

-----
Immediately the purple goo of the portal swirled around me and an overwhelming nausea clouded around my brain. My stomach churned, and I resisted the urge to vomit. A second later, I found myself spit out of the portal and landing on a bed of hot red rocks.

“Yeeeewouch! Hot-hot-hot!” I yelled, hopping to my feet, overreacting to the Netherrack's heat. It was a mimic of how I'd acted when I first traveled to the Nether. Having gone back and forth more times than I can count since then, it had become an inside joke with myself.

The Nether air was thick and muggy, and had a permanent smoky smell to it. I heard the grunts and groans of Zombie Pigmen far off. Eh, they weren't a problem unless you did something to tick them off.

In the distance, the dark red maze of a Nether Fortress loomed. I smirked, thinking about the promise of plentiful Blaze rods, not to mention the extra treasures stored in the loot chests. Keeping an ear tuned for Ghast cries, I shot towards it. The sound of my shoes slapping against the Netherrack echoed eeriely in the endless cavern.

Just then, the unmistakable moan of a Ghast hit me. It doesn't matter who or how tough you are—there's no denying that sound startles you when it comes out of the blue (or would it be out of the red?) like that. Despite the intense heat of the Nether, my blood froze on the spot. Most noobs can't tell how close or far away a Ghast is by its cry, but I'm no noob. Judging by the minute difference in volume, the beast was behind and a little below the hill I was standing on. A new series of shivers ran down my back as a second close-range Ghast call responded to it. Okay, so now there were two Ghasts way too close for comfort to me. I gulped nervously, put a hand on the hilt of my sword, and carefully descended the hill.

“Ohh,” I breathed in awe. There they were. A group of eight white eggs, speckled with gray spots, shone in the glowstone light. Each egg was about the size of a volleyball. The eggs were tucked into a Ghast nest. I wondered if the eggs were heavy or not, and how long it would be before they hatched. Speaking of hatching, I hatched a risky idea. Crouching down behind a bump of Netherrack, I waited for an opportune moment, passing the time by fantasizing about riding a tamed Ghast.

The nest was built of crumbling Netherrack and soul sand. One of the Ghasts sat on it, with its tentacles wrapped around the cluster of eggs. Judging by its soft, steady breathing, it was asleep. The sound was high-pitched and delicate, rather feminine in a way.

“That must be the mother,” I whispered to myself.

Even though she was sleeping, there was no way I could run over there and swipe an egg. Another Ghast standing—err, floating by the nest turned this way and that in the air, making its crying noises to “look” for oncoming trouble with echolocation. This one's voice was deep and masculine. Obviously, this was the father.

“Maybe if I can distract Daddy-o, I can snitch an egg...” I mumbled to myself, “but how would I do that?” I sat on the ground, hands clutching my knees, and waited for an opportunity.

“Huuuugh,” a Zombie Pigman groaned, staggering out onto the flat plane of Netherrack and waving his golden sword around clumsily. Immediately the father Ghast whipped around, screamed in anger at it, and spat a fireball.

The pigman dodged out of the way just in time as the fireball slammed into the ground and exploded, leaving a smoky crater in its wake. The Zombie Pigman squealed in terror and ran in circles, in its blind panic.

The Ghast was just getting started. He screamed again, and while his mouth was wide open in rage, I saw him actually pull in his set of square teeth. A set of all fangs slid down in its place. I gawked at it for a second, then ducked behind the bump of Netherrack and touched a hand to my forehead, trying to make sense of what just happened.

“Ooo-kay,” I mumbled. “So Ghasts have two sets of teeth. And they can switch between them at will. Ah, I didn't know that.” Still, I wasn't about to miss the epic battle here, so I peeked over the edge again to watch.

The Zombie Pigman had strafed left and the Ghast turned its back to me so he could face his opponent better. In that moment, something clicked in my brain. Now was the moment. I stole a speedy glance at the mother Ghast, who was still sleeping peacefully despite all the din her mate was making as he fought the pigman. Huh. Ghasts must be heavy sleepers.

I vaulted over the Netherrack wall and, heart hammering in my chest, dashed over to the nest. I scooped up the first egg I saw and held it close. I bumbled away, my running ability hindered somewhat by holding onto a bulky egg. Blaze rods fell out of my priorities as I carried a new and different prize home.


(To be continued...)

“Mmm...what was all that screeching about?” Kadoi murmured in Ghast language, stretching her stiff muscles.

“Nothing significant. Just another pig zombie.” Kusu replied. He smiled proudly. “I took care of it.”

“Ooh, goody,” Kadoi said. “Woke up just in time for dinner.” She floated out of the nest and scooped up the simmering meat the zombie pigman had dropped with her large, flat tongue. She gulped down the whole slab of rotten flesh at once.

“My turn!” Kuso flopped on the nest, hugged the eggs to his body, and promptly dropped off to sleep before Kadoi could warn him to be more careful around the eggs. Then, she did a double-take, glancing back at them.

“Wait a minute.” Something didn't seem right. Kadoi counted the eggs, pointing to each one as she sounded off its number. There should have been eight.

“On, du, tri, kud, zent, sais, siet*...” Where was the eighth? She gave Kusu a shove, jolting him into the land of the conscious.

“Hey!” her mate cried in indignation. “I'm tryin' to sleep!”

“Get up! Are you sitting on an egg?”

“No! You know I'm more careful than that. Why might I be sitting on one?” He floated up and scrutinized the nest. No, there were only the seven eggs in the cluster. There was no eighth anywhere in the nest or immediately outside of it.

“Because I only counted seven!”

“Kadoi?” Kusu said in a small voice. “I was going to tell you this earlier, but I didn't, because I didn't want to scare you.”

“What? What is it?” He could hear the panic rising in Kadoi's voice.

“I thought spotted a human around here just before I went to sleep. Could it be...”

“No...Please, tell me it isn't so.”

“...that it stole one of the eggs?”

Once the words were out there, there was no going back. Kadoi erupted into soul-shaking weeping. Her sobs bounced and reverbed off the cave walls of the Nether to herald the terrible news to everyone for hundreds of blocks around.

“My egg...My egg!” she wailed, shunning Kusu's attempts to console her. Kadoi plunged to the ground, letting her tears roll down her face and splash to the ground. The drops evaporated the instant they made contact with the hot Netherrack.

Burning hatred bubbled up in Kusu's inmost being for whoever stole their egg. No-one made his mate cry like that and got away with it!

“I'll kill him,” Kusu vowed. “If that wretch ever steps foot in the Nether again, I'm going to blast him to bits. I'll burn him to ash. He will pay for what he has done.”

*The words for 1 through 7 in mob language.
-----
Before I even reached the portal, a horrible wailing reached my ears. The Ghasts had realized they were now one egg short. The female was sobbing at the top of her lungs and the sound kept echoing through the cavern. I felt a stab of guilt in my conscience, but if I took the egg back now, they'd shoot me dead on the spot with a fireball, and no way was I going to risk that.

I gulped, tucked the egg closer to myself, and stepped through the portal. A few seconds later, my feet landed on soft Overworld grass. I exhaled a deep sigh of relief. Now that I had a moment's peace, I could take a minute to fully appreciate my prize.

The egg was warm to the touch despite the chilly autumn air, and had a dull sheen. Most of the gray patches on the shell were amorphous blobs, but a couple were shaped like hearts. Cute. It was light as a feather; it seemed like it weighed nothing at all. Forget coffee at the cafe. I carried the egg back to my house.

I set it on top of a low bookshelf. Then I stared at it and realized I had no idea what to do next. “So how long does it take one of these things to hatch?” I wondered aloud. Hmm...maybe someone in town had a field guide on mobs. Shouldering my favorite rucksack, I left the egg on the bookshelf, locked the door to the house, and headed off to town.

(to be continued...)

“Why, Jay, hello,” Emmaline, the librarian, greeted me as she jumped off of one of those sliding ladders they have in bookstores and libraries. “I don't see you around here too often. What book can I interest you in today?”

“A field guide on mobs. Ghasts, specifically. Do you have one?”

“Why, yes I do. Follow me.” She led me through the maze of bookshelves until we came to a small, dusty corner. A sign was tacked to the wall above the bookshelf that said, 'Field Guides.'

She whipped a large white book out of the shelf and tossed it into my arms. “Here you go. What compelled you to do a little reading about the great white beast?”

“Um...” I shrugged. “Just curious. Maybe I can find out how to fight them better.”

“Hey, good idea.” She opened up the book to the back cover and stamped it. “Return it in two weeks.”

“Can do.” I tucked the guide under my arm and left for home.

-----
I set the book on my desk. A Ghast face, with its fierce red eyes and wide-open mouth, leered on the front cover. For a second, I half-expected it to shoot a fireball at me. The author could have eased up on the cover art.

Regardless, I thumbed through the pages until I found what I wanted. An illustration of a nest, like the one I had swiped the egg from, sat at the bottom of the page. A detailed sketch of a Ghast egg, cross-cut to show the embryo, was situated next to it. The article was titled, “Eggs Hatching.”

“Ghast eggs hatch approximately 20 days after being laid,” the book told me. Too bad I didn't know how long it had been since the eggs were laid.

“During this time, the mother and father take turns keeping watch over the eggs. One sleeps while the other fights off any threats.” Yeah, don't I know it.

“Ghast eggs thrive in a warm, dry environment. Excessively low temperatures can kill the embryos. Humid conditions can promote the growth of dangerous bacteria on the eggshells, which can make the baby Ghasts sick as soon as they hatch.” Well, I had better make a warm, dry environment for the egg, in that case. I hopped off of my chair and swung back the lid on one of my storage chests. I rummaged around in the piles of random junk for a while before I came up with a stack of wool in assorted colors.

“This should do.” I also got out a little tin box—my sewing kit. I threaded a large needle and started to sew together the wool blocks. It was a slow, tedious process, but after half an hour I was rewarded with a misshapen Ghast bed. “There,” I said, flopping it on the ground next to the bookshelf. I scooped the egg off of its pedestal and set it in the nest. “Hatch quickly for me, little buddy.”

After I had put the egg in the artificial nest, I spent my days doing your ordinary survival stuff—mining, cutting trees, hunting animals, all that jazz, and my nights watching the egg for the slightest sign of starting to hatch. A discouraging week passed without anything happening.

Then, one night as I was reading the section on how a parent Ghast raises its babies—the closest I'd ever get to instruction on caring for one as a pet—it happened.

The egg shook. I gasped in gleeful surprise and ran to it. A small fissure appeared on the shell, splitting one of the heart-shaped gray spots in two. Then it grew larger and another crack branched from it. It cracked and crumbled until the top broke off. A tiny white head peeked over the edge.

“Why, hello there,” I said as a miniature Ghast crawled out of the egg. It opened its red eyes long enough to look at me and then shut them again. It squeaked once, then started to cry.

“Aw, shoot,” I grumbled. “I should've known that would happen. All right, all right. You must be hungry.” I rummaged through my inventory and pulled out a cooked pork chop. For one horrible second I thought I the baby Ghast would be toothless and I'd have to chew up his food for him—and no way was I going to do that—but then he sneezed, opening his mouth long enough for me to see itty-bitty teeth. Exhaling a sigh of relief, I tore the meat into chunks and tossed it, piece by piece, at the baby Ghast, who scooped them up with his wide tongue and gulped them down.

Once he had eaten his fill, the Ghastling squeaked happily and jumped from the nest onto my shoulder. I yelled in surprise, but it didn't faze him. He let his tongue loll out of his mouth, then slid it all the way up the side of my face.

“Oh, yuck! Bleecchh!” I rubbed my shirt sleeve against the licked side of my face, knocking the Ghastling off my shoulder in the process. He fell back into the nest in a spray of wool fibers.

“Now, that we can't do. Okay?” I wiped the last of the Ghast spit off my cheek. Licking me may have been a sign of affection, but affectionate or no, it was pretty nasty.

The little guy looked up at me with big, sad eyes. He looked to be on the verge of crying again. Aww. For a weepy, fireball-spitting jellyfish thing, he was kind of cute. I couldn't stay mad at the little marshmallow.

“Hey!” I said. “I know what to name you. I'm going to call you Marshmallow.”

Marshmallow sniffled, then looked up at me and squeaked happily. He liked it.

-----
“All right, kids, climb on.” Kusu flattened himself as low to the ground as he could while the hatchlings climbed on his back. Now that the eggs had hatched, Kadoi had left, entrusting their care to him. He counted each little one as it crawled onto his back, calling him or her by name.

The first was Megarah, the oldest. She was followed closely by Vikteren, the next-oldest, and little Ahdeemdi. After them came Tarevo and Nah. Then there was Kadoi-Du, who looked so much like her mother that Kusu just had to name her so, and finally Saloh.*

One...Two...Three...Four...Five...Six...Seven.

Seven.

Kusu's mind wandered back to the lost eighth egg. Would it have been a girl or a boy? What would they have named it? He loved all seven of his Ghastlings, but there still seemed to be a void left by the Lost One. Ah, yes, that is what he would refer to it as—On-Kandun.

A growl caught in his throat. He had not forgotten his promise. But he had to push it back to the corner of his mind. He had seven little ones to care for, after all. Until that human worked up the nerve to set foot on Kusu's territory, there was nothing the Ghast could do to avenge his lost egg.

*These are names from Ghast language, meaning Mercy/Compassion, Conqueror, Little Man, He is Sharp, Joy, Magic-Two, and King, respectively. On kandun means “lost one.”

I knew right away that Marshmallow would be huge when he was fully mature, but I had no idea he would grow so fast. It was easy to hide him in my house for the first year when he was still a hatchling, but by the time he was reaching two years old, I realized that I would have to figure out a new plan...

Marshmallow settled into his bed with great difficulty. He whined at me as I finished crafting a new iron pickaxe. I turned and gulped nervously when I saw him squished into his tiny bed. He was the size of two cows by now, and his sounds were getting loud enough for the neighbours to take notice. More than a few had come by to ask me what the “weird sounds” emanating from my house were (I always dismissed them as, “Huh, must just be my Nether portal you're hearing.”)

I sighed. “It's time.” Putting the pick away in my inventory, I strode over to Marshmallow and helped him out of his too-small nest. He started to make his cries again, but I clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Shh,” I chided. “You have to be quiet.” I looped a lead around him, turning it into a makeshift halter. Holding the tail of the rope, I broke down the door as quietly as I could, mined away the surrounding blocks, and then struggled to push Marshmallow out of the hole in the wall. He slipped through, tumbling off the porch and onto the lawn.

“Hush, now,” I warned him, before he could start whining. The moon was creeping up to the zenith of the sky. Midnight. I had six hours to safely evacuate Analiese, the city of snoopers, and find a safer place for a boy to raise his pet Ghast. Before we left, I dashed back inside to collect a bed, food, a pickaxe, a regular axe, some torches, and of course my trusty sword. Throwing the stuff into my inventory, I rejoined Marshmallow and began our escape.

As I stole off into the night, dragging a half-flying, half-stumbling Marshmallow along behind me, names of possible places ran through my mind. Finally, I decided on River's Bend. I had been there a few years prior, and wasn't too impressed. It was just a hick town further southeast, with more sheep than people. The houses were few and far between, creating open fields where I could keep Marshmallow in secrecy. After glancing at my map, I got a bearing of the backcountry route I wanted to take, settling from a fleeing run to a steady trot as I adjusted my direction to aim at River's Bend.

The trip to River's Bend seemed endless—just hour after hour of walking under a dark sky and a half-moon, toting Marshmallow behind me, and wondering what would happen if anyone found out I had a pet Ghast. I don't know how many miles I covered that night. Finally, just as the first threads of a new morning were stretching across the eastern sky, the outline of a handful of houses appeared in the distance.

“Yes!” I pumped a triumphant fist and, ignorning the dull ache in my legs and Marshmallow's exhausted groans, I shot towards the houses, coming to a sign that greeted me and declared the settlement “River's Bend.”

It was the pale grey hour of dawn, and everyone was still asleep. I skirted away from the clustered homes and cut a circle around to the back fields near the woods. Right on the edge of the woodlands was a small cobblestone-and-wood cottage with a brick chimney. A few holes riddled the roof, and the door hung crookedly off a broken, rusted hinge. Peering curiously inside the dusty windows, I saw that the house was empty save for a lonely crafting table shoved in a corner.

Marshmallow squeaked at the house—echolocation—then gave me a dubious look.

I shrugged. “So it's a bit of a fixer upper. Nothing I can't handle.”

-----
Marshmallow cried at me as I stood haphazardly atop my fixer-upper house, nailing a plank block into place to fill a hole in the roof.

“Oh, relax,” I called down to him. “I'll be fine. I'm careful—whoops!” My foot skidded across a board and knocked a handful of nails off the roof. They hit the ground one after another like iron raindrops.

After fixing the roof and dropping many more nails in the process, I went around front and ripped the door out of the doorway, replacing it and the old hinges with the new. With the new door installed, I ducked inside to survey just how much sprucing up the interior would require.

Immediately, I had a sneezing fit from the dust I'd kicked up. A fine layer of it covered almost every surface in the house, from the window sills to the stairs leading to the second floor.

“Aw, man. I hate dusting,” I complained.

-----
The wind whispered through the leaf-cloaked tree boughs. I crouched in some shrubbery, with a stone sword strapped to my back, a lead rope in my hand, and a second lead coiled around my arm. I vowed to return home that evening with two pigs. Marshmallow needed food, after all.

There were some oinks not far off. A smirk crossed my face. I could already smell their feral stench. My leg muscles tensed as a chunky pig waddled into view. It was followed shortly after by two more. A grin crept across my face. Yes, that would do quite nicely.

Adrenaline shoved its way through my system and I sprang to my feet, letting out a war-cry that frightened the pigs. They squealed in terror and ran in panicked circles. I whipped one lead in the direction of the biggest and fattest pig, who was moving none too quickly. The loop of rope slipped around its neck and tightened. The other pigs freaked out even more and scattered.

I started to panic, myself. If I waited another second, they would get away. I unraveled the second lead from around my arm and tossed it blindly at another pig. I felt it slip around something and go taut. Excited, I looked over at my captured...tree stump.

“What!” I screeched. “Dang it, dang it, dang it!” The others had gotten away! Crud! Fuming, I ripped the lead off of the lassoed stump and stuffed it in my inventory. I took a deep breath to cool it and consoled myself with the fact that I had caught the big one.

“All right, bub, let's go,” I growled at the captive pig, dragging it along by the lead. It seated its plump rear end on the ground, stared defiantly at me, and snorted. The sack of fat was heavy and it did NOT want to come along with me. “Come ON!” I grunted, nearly throwing out my back from lugging the noncomplaint pig home.

-----
The months to follow were mostly quiet, with Marshmallow growing to his full size and me spending the days mining, logging, and farming, and most importantly avoiding the bulk of civilization in River's Bend. But as time wore on, I found myself having to go into the village itself more and more. The problem with living in a civilized town is that the surrounding area is often drained of resources. I had to go into town to obtain supplies I couldn't harvest or craft myself way more than I cared to.

With the house repaired and the pig farm established, it was time to focus on my prime goal—riding the Ghast! The only problem was...I needed a saddle for it, and I seriously doubted I could scoop up a Ghast-sized saddle from a dungeon chest. Which meant that I had to make one myself. Ugh...I didn't even want to think about how much leather I'd need for it.

There was a line of five other people wrapped around the leathersmith's counter. I sighed with frustration and blew a stray strand of hair out of my face. I joined the line as number six, lugging the load of leather behind me. It was bound into a ragged bundle by a piece of twine.

“That's a lot of leather,” commented the man in front of me as he stared at the bundle.

“I'm aware of that,” I said coolly.

“NEXT!” barked the leathersmith villager, and the line slid forward.

“Whatever could you be crafting that you would need that much leather?” the annoying guy pressed. “Are you making armor suits for the entire village?”

I ignored him and peeked around the line. A woman was haggling with the villager, trying to get him to trade a leather tunic and pair of leggings—both dyed pink, by the way—for only seven emeralds instead of the ten he demanded.

“Don't you think ten emeralds is a little, I don't know, outrageous for leather armor?” she asked him, annoyance bubbling up in her voice.

“I don't negotiate. Ten emeralds or no deal!” he insisted.

“Fine, fine, FINE!” she grumped, dug a handful of the green gems out of her inventory, and slammed them on the counter. She snatched up her pink armor and left in a huff. The leathersmith immediately started counting the emeralds.

“...seven, eight, nine—Hey, she only gave me nine emeralds!” the villager whined, but it was too late. The woman was gone. “Swindler!”

I chuckled to myself. Taste of your own medicine, bub. Then I groaned as I imagined just what the leathersmith would extort for the giant load of leather I was buying.

“NEXT!” the upset villager bellowed. The line jumped forward again. The next person in line was someone in a hooded cloak who was all business. Without a word, (s)he bought a horse saddle and left immediately.

“NEXT!” The annoying guy in front of me stepped up to the counter and small-talked with the leathersmith as he bought a pair of yellow leather leggings.

“Yellow, eh?” the leathersmith asked skeptically as he accepted six emeralds—sheesh—for the armor.

“Yellow is my color!” the man said cheerfully as he picked up the leggings, slipped them into a bag, and skipped out the door, humming like Mary Poppins. Ugh.

“Oh, my,” the villager said as he caught sight of my big bundle of leather. “Doing a large project, are we?”

“Yep.”

There was an awkward silence before he asked, “Um...care to tell me what it is?”

“Nope.”

“Aw, come on. You know how much I like DIY. Tell me about this big, bold project of yours.”

“It's gonna be a saddle. Happy?”

“Awful large saddle,” he remarked, then gestured for me to pay. “Thirty-two emeralds, please.” I whistled, but counted out thirty-two of the green gems and dropped them on the counter. The leathersmith smiled and scooped them up into his inventory.

“All right. Pleasure doing business with you. Good luck on your saddle.”

“Thanks,” I said insincerely, struggling to fit the bundle through the door.

-----
I poked the needle through the leather, finishing the last stitch. The finished saddle sat upon a makeshift stand I built out of oak planks. It was a good thing I had just completed my project, because the wooden legs holding up the table were bending under the saddle's weight.

“Aha.” I snipped the thread and stowed the needle back in my sewing kit. “All right, Marshmallow. Have a look!” Mashmallow rolled the rope halter around in his mouth and made his squeaking noises at my creation. A confused look crossed his countenance. He made louder cries, until he actually opened up his bright red eyes and stared at it. “It's a saddle,” I explained. “It'll make flying easier.”

Marshmallow pointed a tentacle at himself and tilted his head (which was his whole body, really) in the silent Ghast version of asking, “Easier for me?”

“No. Me. Maybe that was bad wording. I'll have a much easier time riding if I have something to sit in.” I pushed my goggles down over my eyes. “Let's take this bad boy for a spin, what say you?”

Marshmallow looked worried. With no small effort, and constructing temporary platforms of dirt during the process, I hoisted the saddle off the stand and dropped it on Marshy's back. The Ghast stood up, using his tentacles as feet. I wrapped the girth strap around him, slipping the wide leather strip through the gold buckle and tightened it.

Once I had gotten the saddle into position, I went to work on the bridle. I cut the rope halter and tossed it aside. Marshy yawned, giving me an opportunity to set the iron bit on his teeth. After scaling the dirt platforms, I stood on Marshmallow's back and looped the leather reins over, dropping them on the other side of the Ghast. I jumped off, sustaining minor fall damage that healed almost instantaneously, and fit the other end of the leather rope into the bit on the right side of Marshmallow's mouth.

The Ghast watched me curiously the entire time I put on his saddle and bridle with his piercing red eyes. I ran around to his left side. When I got there, I noticed that the buckle on his saddle had somehow come loose. I grunted with irritation and went over to fix it.

Marshmallow squeaked and gnawed at his bit uncomfortably.

“Let it be, Marshy,” I told him as I adjsted the buckle. I hopped up the dirt platforms and climbed into the saddle. He snuffled, frustrated. He scratched at the strap holding on his saddle with a tentacle.

“All right!” I took a firm hold of the reins. “How to Train your Ghast, here I come!” I flicked the reins, urging Mashmallow to lift off. He reluctantly floated a few blocks above the ground.

“Come on, you can do better than that.” I spurred him gently with my knee.

He cried, ascended somewhat, and started flying very slowly, skimming low over the ground. It wasn't too exciting, but at least he was going. Still, I was disappointed. I had seen Ghasts fly way faster and higher than this in the Nether. “Uh, Marshy?” I asked. “Don't you think you can kick it up a notch?”

We passed over some sheep in a pasture. The wooly animals stopped grazing to stare slackjawed at us. Marshmallow flew only slightly faster than they walked. I spurred him with my knee again and told him to step it up.

Marshmallow whined in protest, but strained and accelerated, and ascended a little. I leaned over to look at the world below. The grass, trees, sheep, and whatnot melted into a colourful blend as Marshmallow zoomed by.

“That's more like it! Woo!” I laughed heartily, my voice drowned out by the wind roaring in my ears. “This totally beats riding a horse!”

Marshmallow coasted and ground to a stop outside the house. He stuck out his tentacles and landed softly, then lowered the rest of his body to the ground.
“Wow, what a ride!” I jumped out of the saddle and landed on the ground with a thud. Pain shot up my legs from the minor fall damage, but it healed almost immediately, so no worries.
Marshmallow cried and gnawed at his bit again.
“What?”
He squawked and scratched at the bridle with a tentacle, apparently trying to get it off.
“Oh, fine.” I went inside my house and returned with a rope. Marshmallow yawned and I pulled out the bit, replacing it with the rope as a halter. As soon as I did, the Ghast started chewing on the rope.
“Hey. No,” I chided. “You need to keep that on.”
Marshy snorted.
“It's for your own good! Don't you have any idea what the city folks will do to you if they catch you? ...And what they'll do to me?”
-----
King Lantis of River's Bend wanted to have a nice day to himself to respond to all his correspondences from other city-states and maybe finish that novel he had been reading for almost five months now. Unfortunately, that was not going to happen.
“Sir, there's a problem.” A dark-haired, dark-eyed woman strode into his public office, the soles of her work boots slapping against the smooth andesite floor.
“What would it be, Miss?” Lantis closed his book and shelved it.
“Call me Bertha,” the woman responded. “I was tending my sheep in their pasture this afternoon, when I saw something you should know about.”
“Like what?” The king sipped coffee from his favourite mug.
She took a deep breath. “One of your citizens was riding a Ghast.”
Lantis pitched forward in his seat and nearly spewed the coffee in shock. “A GHAST?”
“Indeed. With a saddle and everything.”
“AHHHH!” the king yelled, rising to his feet. “That is so dangerous! Doesn't that fool know Ghasts are evil? Who even was it?”
Bertha crossed her arms. “It was Jay. That newcomer.”
“Armour-bearer!” Lantis screamed at the open doorway. Seconds later, a lanky guy in a red tabard scurried into the room.
“Yes, sire?” The armour-bearer did a nervous little salute.
“Go call the elite guard! Tell them to put on a search for Jay the new. He is hereby wanted for enlisting the aid of the enemy, fraternizing with Ghasts, and altogether being a weirdo and a stranger!”
“Right away, sire!” The armour-bearer did that stupid little salute again and left in a hurry.
“Don't you worry, missy,” Lantis assured Bertha. “I'll have that no-good Ghast rider in my dungeon by sundown.”
-----
The sun was starting to creep onto the western horizon, painting the sky a soft salmon pink. The stars shone dimly in the gradually darkening sky, and the heat of the day began to evaporate into the cool, clear night air.
I landed again after another high-flying adventure on Ghast-back. I felt so proud of myself. I was sure no-one else had ever tamed and ridden a Ghast before. On the other hand, I was scared. Terrified, even. This wasn't something I could hide forever. Someone would find out eventually. I hadn't exactly been careful to not be seen while riding today. A big white Ghast ridden by a spunky teen wasn't something you could easily miss while watching the placid sky.
I thought about all this as I took off Mashmallow's tack and slipped the rope halter back on him for the night. He shook like a wolf after a swim, relieved to not have a heavy saddle on his back. After feeding him a couple cooked pork-chops, (fortunately, he didn't seem to mind that they were stone cold) I tied his lead to a fence post and started to go inside. Maybe all that worrying about what would happen if—more like when—I was discovered had been a sign that something was off, because I never even got into the house that night. The first thing I saw was a mass of flaming torches headed toward my house. Then I heard the shouts, and realized that a squad of soldiers were approaching.
“Oh, no. Oh, no!” I yelped, because I was certain they weren't here to throw me a housewarming party. “I am so sorry, buddy, but I have to do this.” I somehow managed to slap the saddle on Marshy's back in less than a minute, slip on his bridle, and climb on.
“Enemy! Stranger! Weirdo!” the accusing knights chanted as they barged onto my lawn, trampling my carrot crops. “You're under arrest!”
“No!” I screamed as Marshmallow rose into the air. My Ghast was oddly calm despite the angry men with sharp weapons bearing down on him.
“Then get out of town and don't ever return!” the lead soldier said.
“With pleasure. So long, dorks!” I snarled, and spurred Marshy with my knee to make him go faster. We flew sort-of-quickly off into the night, leaving the hick town of River's Bend behind.
I laughed, happy to fly and breathe in the fresh free air of the open skies, but as I looked back on River's Bend disappearing into the folds of rolling green hills, the realization hit my gut like a speeding minecart.
I am a criminal now.

A few months later...
“I'm dumbfounded, really,” Erik said, hands in his pockets, while he walked down the dusty cobblestone streets of the town of Charlotte one night. It was a sleepy fishing town a few kilometres east of Analiese. His friend Nancy strolled beside him as they talked about the recent nationwide search for Jay the Stranger, Ghast-Friend, and Weirdo.
“I thought he was going into the Nether to get Blaze rods, when he went to the Nether three years ago.” Nancy commented. “Why would he grab a Ghast egg instead? Is he not right in the head or something?”
“Beats me. But we gotta lie low. If we let it slip that we're his friends, they're going to be questioning us all about--”
“--how much you know about this controversy,” the gruff voice of a guard finished his sentence. A group of four knights locked their meaty hands around Erik's shoulders. “We know you're awfully chummy with you-know-who, Erik. That's why you're coming with us. The Circle of Nobles want to have a word with you.”
“Wait, I don't think--” Erik spluttered, but he didn't get to finish. The guards unceremoniously tossed him into the back of an official coach bound for Analiese.
“Go home, missy!” the driver barked at Nancy, who meekly left for her house. He flicked the reins and the horses galloped off down Stockholm Street, rolling out of Charlotte and onto the road to Analiese.
The drive lasted all night, and the Charlottean roads aren't the best quality. Erik was bounced about in the empty wooden coach as it rolled over the bumpy stones. He banged his head probably about eleven times, and didn't stand a chance of getting some decent shut-eye. Finally, as the grey dawn light streamed into the window, someone unlocked the door, helped him out, and he was promptly marched over to the Analiese town hall.
The meeting-room was dark, with the shades drawn and some candles providing modest illumination, where the nine members of the Circle of Nobles were gathered around a square table, with grave looks on their faces. A giant map of Analiese and the surrounding towns was spread out on the table, marked up with dozens of red Xs.
“We've been searching for Jay the Stranger, Ghast-Friend, and Weirdo for two months with no success,” Sir Melville of Analiese, and the spokesman for the group, began, “and I do think it is because we have no direction and no lead.”
“But why do you want me?” Erik whined.
“It should be obvious,” Sir Melville sneered. “You have inside information. We know you and Jay are—or at least were—friends. You know him well. Where would the lunatic go, now that he is a criminal? Where would he hide?”
Erik shrugged. “Beats me.”
“If you're lying or holding back information, we will have to use...more dire methods of eliciting said information,” Melville reminded him, voice laced with venom.
“Well, he wouldn't hide in a city, I guess,” Erik said, shifting from one foot to another. “Too hard for him to hide.”
“That's a good point.” Melville nodded at a noble to his right, who took out a pad of paper and started scribbling down notes on what Erik had said. “Is there anything else you can tell us.”
Erik bit his lip. He was caught between a rock and a hard place. He had to either lie or refuse to speak and suffer whatever torture the Circle of Nobles would inflict on him, or spill his guts and compromise his friend's safety.
“I'm not a patient man,” Melville rumbled after half a minute of silence from Erik.
In the moment, Erik's cowardice overtook his loyalty. “Look, it's not all that hard to pinpoint a place where Jay would've gone if he ran—err, flew off on a Ghast. Like I said before, he wouldn't go to a place where there'd be a lot of people around, right? So he'd be in the wilderness somewhere--”
“Well, as if that narrows it down at all!” a random noble cut in scornfully. “There's wilderness all round, beyond the walls of cities, you fool. How is that bit of information helpful?”
“If it was up to me, I'd just raze all the forests, set up more cities, capture all the mobs, and have the whole wild-lands under my thumb and not so wild anymore. Then we wouldn't have these problems,” another chimed in.
“Shut up! No-one asked for your land development plans,” Melville snapped at him, irritated that the discussion was getting off track. He took a deep breath and pressed his hands together to cool down, then continued, “But in all seriousness, we do require more lead than that, sirrah.”
“You fellows know what Ghasts are like, I assume. Very large and not terribly maneuverable. So I supposed wherever Jay went, he went somewhere with plenty of open air and little obstruction. Therefore, it couldn't have been a forest—too many trees.”
“Ah-ah,” the note-taking guy babbled, struggling to jot down everything that Erik was saying.
“Good, good,” Melville mumbled. He addressed a noble seated across the table from him, who was diddling with the big map. “Tyree, get ready to mark the map some more. First, eliminate all the forests. Jay wouldn't hide there.”
Tyree crossed off all the forested areas on the map. “That leaves the northern tundra, the east mountains, and the southern desert.”
“Okay. Okay.” Erik tapped his chin, thinking some more. “I remember reading in school that Ghasts are ectotherms.” “Ecto-what?” Melville looked at him like he was crazy.
“Stay with me here. Basically, that means that Ghasts are cold-blooded and need a warm environment, or else they get all slow and sleepy. Therefore, he wouldn't hide on the tundra or in the mountains. They'd be much too cold.”
“I like this man's logic,” Tyree commented, slashing big Xs through the tundra and mountains.
“And of course, these inhabited plains are out of the question, as there are too many prying eyes. Therefore, the only logical place Jay could have hidden himself is the southern desert.”
Melville stood up and shook Erik's hand. “Thank you very much for your time. You are a great help. But we're afraid we can't let you return to Charlotte just yet.”
“Why not?” Erik protested.
“We need you to do another little task for us. You see, we Nobles cannot go to apprehend Jay. He would be much too suspicious of us. But you—you he trusts. Thus, we want you to go and find him, and devise some way to bring him here. Never fear, we will help you in the latter endeavour, but you must send him a message inviting him to a rendezvous yourself.”
“What! No way! I'd never betray my friend like that.”
Melville's expression darkened and he marched across the room to Erik, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Send him a message, or you will suffer the law...and some extra punishment, courtesy of us Nobles.”
Erik gulped, cowardice setting in again. “O-Okay. Will do.”
“Very well.” A smirk crept across Melville's mouth. “I'll get you our best carrier bat.”
-----
“Dratted sand!” I growled, sweeping sand that had blown into the mouth of the cave I was residing in. I hated that desert cave. The air in it was always uncomfortably hot and dry, and everything got so dusty from the blowing sands. The space was furnished humbly by a bed, a crafting table, a furnace, a storage chest, and Marshmallow's tack piled up in a corner.
On the other hand, Marshmallow clearly enjoyed the desert. Outside of the cave, he lay on a large slab of rock, sunning himself.
So it wasn't my first choice of biome, but there wasn't much I could do. I had no idea of telling just how fervently I was being searched for, and I wasn't about to find out. It had been a few months since I escaped—maybe they'd have let it go by now.
“Huh, wishful thinking,” I muttered. I imagined my face gracing wanted posters plastered on every wall in Analiese and probably a good deal of walls in other cities, too. An “enemy, stranger, and weirdo” they called me.
The flapping of little leathery wings caught my attention. A fuzzy brown bat settled atop the crafting table and waggled its leg, showing me a rolled piece of paper tied to it.
“What's this?” I said, gently untying the string and taking the paper. “Who's it from?” The bat said nothing, of course. I unrolled the message and started to read:
Jay
Hey, it's your old friend Erik here. How's hiding? Listen, I was wondering if we could talk. I haven't seen you in a while and I thought we should catch up on some things. Meet me in the Cave of Ancients, 'kay?
Erik
“Oh, cool!” I said, crumpling up the letter and tossing it aside. “I was starting to think Erik forgot I was his friend. Say, I wonder if he knows...Eh, he'll find out about Marshmallow anyway. And I know Erik; he wouldn't tell anyone where I was.” I got out a fresh piece of paper and started scribbling down a reply. When I was finished, I took the string and wound it around the rolled-up paper, and again around the bat's little leg. I picked up the tiny animal and brought it to the mouth of the cave.
“Take this to the one who sent you,” I instructed the bat as I cast it to the wind. A hot breeze blew by just then, giving him a gust to ride off of. Within seconds, he was disappearing off into the horizon as just a dark brown spot.

Erik paced nervously outside his house, stomach knotting up in a ball of dread. He secretly hoped his bat got waylaid en route to wherever Jay was hiding, or that his friend had declined the invitation. No such luck. At sunset, the bat swooped down and alighted on his arm. With a sigh, Erik took the paper, unrolled it, and read Jay's reply:
Erik: Yeah, that's good. I've got something awesome to show you. Cave of Ancients. Saturday. Can do. Jay
Erik cursed quietly and crumpled up the paper. There was no getting out of this. He could make it to the Southern Desert by Saturday (two days from now) if he left immediately. Grudgingly, he packed a few meagre supplies and saddled up his horse for the two-day journey.
-----
Two days later
The hooves of Erik's horse clattered on the stone ground as it trotted into the cool darkness of the Cave of Ancients. It was a large, spherical cave yawning out of the side of a tall hill of sand a small ways in from the border of the southern desert.
“Erik! Good to see you, buddy!” I said, coming out from the shadows. “Sorry I don't have the best accomodations, but you know, beggars can't be choosers.” I set a bucket of water on the floor, which his horse eagerly drank from. “So I hear you're a weirdo and a Ghast-friend,” Erik said, starting a shaky conversation.
“Well, I wouldn't concur on the 'weirdo' part but...” I turned around and whistled at the back of the cave. Moments later, my pet Ghast floated into the open, wearing his bridle and chewing on the bit. Erik gasped and looked ready to run for it.
“Say howdy to Marshmallow!” I chirped.
Erik was too busy goggling at Marshmallow to say hi. “Great Scott! It's a tamed Ghast!”
I patted Marshy's side. “Isn't he great?”
“It seems a little dangerous...”
“Oh, pooh.” I waved my hand dismissively at Erik. “He's trained...Well, mostly. But I've got it all under control. No worries.”
“Can you—can you fly on him?” Erik pointed at the saddle.
“Oh, yeah. It's really great.”
My friend shifted from foot to foot, obviously nervous about my Ghast. “I, uh, I better go. Go back home.” “What? But you just got here.”
“I know, but if I don't leave now, people will wonder where I went.”
I tried not to look too disappointed. “Okay. But can you keep my location a secret?”
“Sure,” Erik said as he swung up onto his horse's back. He flashed a shaky grin at me, but something seemed insincere about his behaviour. I watched as he trotted off into the hot, gritty desert, headed back to civilization.
I shook it off. Come on, Jay. He's your friend. Why would he lie to you?
-----
“Where is he? Where's Jay?” Sir Melville grilled Erik as he was hauled into the meeting-room for the Circle of Nobles shortly after returning from the southern desert.
Erik traced a foot on the ground and looked away.
“Answer me!”
“He's residing in the Cave of Ancients, in the southern desert.” Erik swallowed hard.
Melville clapped quietly. “Ah, splendid work, Erik! I was beginning to doubt your competence. But there's still one more thing we need you to do.”
“What is it now?” Erik droned, trying not to whine. “I've already tracked down Jay and found him for you.”
“Well, that was only half of the solution. Now we need to capture Jay and imprison him so he can't cause a stir any longer. Therefore, you will organize a rendezvous with him again, letting him think that this is just a friendly meeting. Then you will go to this meeting while we come along secretly and hide ourselves. At the speaking of a specific directive from you, we will emerge and detain our target and his Ghast. Then we will take them back to Analiese and deal with them accordingly from there.”
Erik gasped. “No! I've already betrayed Jay enough. I'm not doing that. That's so vile!”
Melville was so angry he flipped a chair, making it crash to the ground and startling everyone in the room. “No, you will be doing that, you dirty rebel! Or we will make your punishment even more severe than his! Perhaps you would like to join your friend on the list of Analiese's Most Wanted?”
Erik looked horrified. “No...No, I wouldn't,” he stammered, his cowardice rearing its ugly head again. He was more afraid of the law than he was of disappointing his friend.
“Then go! Wait a week from now so it doesn't seem so suspicious,” Melville instructed. Then he added, “Oh, and if you succeed, we will guarantee great rewards for you. All of Analiese and the surrounding towns will speak of your bravery and good deeds. Consider that.”
-----
A long week passed, filled with boring routine. Hiding out in a desert was even more dull than living in a town. At least in town, there was more going on then miles upon miles of blowing sand under a beating sun, with occasional patches of cacti breaking up the piles of dunes.
Erik's carrier bat returned one Friday night, a message tied to its leg again. It was another letter, reading:
Jay:
Sorry for chickening out before. I've never seen a tamed Ghast, so I wasn't sure how to react, really. Let's meet up again at the Cave of Ancients in two days. Maybe we could even take Marshmallow for a test drive.
Regards,
Erik
“See, I told you he would warm up to the idea,” I said to Marshy, writing down a response and tying it to the bat's leg. I went to the mouth of the cave and cast the bat out to the wind again, watching him fly off.

When Erik reached the mouth of the cave, he heard a crying Ghast. A second later, Marshmallow appeared, still wearing a bridle.
“Erik, buddy!” I called as I came out into view as well. Erik was knotting his horse's lead rope to a fence post I'd put up for that exact purpose. Like before, I offered his pony a drink of water.
“I'm so glad you don't mind that I keep a pet Ghast. You're so understanding,” I said. “Thanks a lot, friend.” At that, the smile dropped off of Erik's mouth.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
“No, no,” he said breezily. “It's just that, wow, your Ghast is really quite incredible up close and...” He trailed off. “Okay. Take him, sirs.”
“Huh?” Before anything else got out of my mouth, there was a clatter of armour and the Analiese royal guard dashed out of the shadows, halberds at the ready. They lit torches for extra light, illuminating the cave with an evil reddish glow. The captain, Dmitri, had an idiotic, diabolical smirk plastered all over his face.
“What's going on here?” I demanded. Two burly knights rushed forward and grabbed me by the arms. I tried to squirm free, but their grip pinioned me so that I couldn't escape.
“How long have you been waiting for me?” I yelled.
Dmitri trotted over, with that stupid, pretentious smirk still on his ugly mug. “Long enough.”
“If you lay a hand on him...” I threatened, but it held no clout. A team of eight guards had beset Marshmallow. The Ghast turned this way and that in the air, shrieking with confusion and fear. Some knights roared in anger and jabbed their spears at him, while others whipped out lead ropes and chains.
“STOP! STOP!” I screamed so hard my throat burned. “Don't hurt him!”
“Shut up,” Dmitri said, slapping me on the side of the face.
The knights ignored my pleas. Four of them worked together to lasso four of Marshmallow's tentacles and forced him to the ground. They stomped on the ropes to keep them from moving while more knights rushed in for reinforcements. Because he had a bridle on, Marshy's ability to shoot fireballs was suppressed, making him defenseless against their attacks.
Five knights ran in and gave Marshy a communal kick to knock him on his side. While he was down, they hastily grabbed his tentacles and tied them together. When he struggled to right himself, two other knights wrapped a muzzle around his mouth. Hardly able to move and thoroughly helpless, Marshy lay there crying while the guards scooped up the tail ends of the ropes and attached them to their horses' saddles, preparing to tow him away.
I thrashed. I kicked. I swore. I fruitlessly wrestled to escape my captors. Anything to save Marshy from this ordeal. Panting furiously and nearly foaming at the mouth like a rabid wolf, I turned on Erik.
“YOU SET THIS UP!” I screamed at him. “You're a brown-noser and a coward and a wretched Brutus!”
Erik looked like he was going to be sick and turned away. Dmitri, unfazed by my histrionics, strode over to Erik and patted him on the shoulder. “You've done well, Erik.”
Exhaling a deep, emotion-charged sigh, I let my head droop and a tear run down my cheek.
“I'm sorry, Marshmallow.”

A few days later
“Good morning, people of Analiese!” Dmitri called brightly over the rumble of the crowd gathered on the plaza of the castle. He stood on a wooden stage overlooking the rabble. “Today is a very special day.”
The people gave him some polite applause. Dmitri nodded and stepped aside so Walter, the king of Analiese, could take center stage as he descended from the steps up to the castle. The crowd cheered and clapped as he appeared, waving to them all. When he reached the stage, he started his speech.
“Thank you, thank you. You are all so kind. I have gathered you all here today to celebrate a momentous occasion.”
“Ooh,” the people murmured, and leaned forward in excitement.
“Just a couple days ago, my capable royal guard (here he motioned at Dmtri, who bowed) have captured the dangerous nuisance known as Jay the Stranger, Weirdo, and Ghast-Friend!”
“Hooray!”
“I'll have you all know that he is languishing in the dungeon as we speak, as is his foul Ghast! And he'll never be released. Now, let me present the one who served an instrumental role in Jay's arrest—Erik. But now we will call him Erik the Good!”
“Erik the Good! Erik the Good!” the crowd chanted as Erik shyly stepped up onto the stage.
“H-Hello, everyone,” he said quietly.
“Aw, come on,” King Walter encouraged, clapping him on the back. “Volume, man! These people want a speech!”
“Oh. Well, um...I don't know. I' m not sure what to say.” He shifted from foot to foot, trying to think of something clever. “Jay put up a decent fight, but...um...we know that good will conquer evil...yeah.”
“Good will conquer evil!” the masses repeated. “Good will conquer evil! Erik the Good will conquer evil!”
While they cheered, Erik excused himself and went back to his office in the castle. He sat at his desk and laid his chin in his hands. He didn’t deserve that applause. He didn’t deserve the title of Erik the Good. He didn’t deserve anything, except maybe to be exiled in disgrace. There was no sugar-coating it; he had betrayed his best friend because his cowardice.
“This is terrible,” he muttered. “What kind of friend am I? ...Ugh, Jay was right. I really am wretched!”
----
The girl twirled a dagger in her hand. “Ha! What kind of joke is this? High and mighty Erik the Good needs the help of lowly, dirty street urchins?”
Erik bit his lip, not wanting to admit that, but he had no choice. The rebels were the only people who would help him break a most wanted criminal out of the slammer. “Yes. I need help from you.”
“Ain’t that nice,” the girl droned, wiping the blade of her weapon with a hanky. “What’s in it for me?”
“Emeralds. Piles of them,” Erik promised desperately.
She lifted an eyebrow. “Keep talking.”
“And diamonds, too.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“And if the police are after you, I’ll make sure your name gets cleared, so they leave you alone. I can pull some strings.”
“Bingo!” the girl said, pointing at him. “You got yourself a deal. The name’s Jessica--”
“I’m Erik the--”
“I know.”
“Sorry.”
“Lemme just get my friends first.” Jessica ran down the alley, yanked open a door a few blocks down, and ducked inside. A few minutes later, she emerged, followed by a ragtag group of more rebel riff-raff. She quickly explained the situation to them, and they murmured their agreement.
“Don’t need introductions,” she dismissed. “Let’s go.”

They approached the dungeon from the back to avoid catching attention from the guards. It was a cluster of towers, cell blocks, and courtyards enclosed by a large stone-brick wall. Despite all the grandeur, Jessica knew it was underfunded and poorly staffed--exactly what they wanted--and didn’t waste time telling Erik that.
Jessica nodded at a wiry youth boy standing nearby, who got out a stolen regulation crossbow, loaded a large, pronged arrow with a rope attached, and loosed it at the wall near the top. It shot across the air and caught fast in the crumbly old stone. The rope uncoiled and the tail end dropped conveniently down to them. They now had a rope and a climbing wall.
“Would anyone like to go first?” Erik offered, gesturing at the rope.
Silence.
“This is your idea,” Jessica reminded him.
“Oh, fine,” Erik grumbled, and took hold of the rope. He wedged his toes into a pair of spaces between the stone for footholds. Inch by inch, he made his way up the wall, scared to death and almost falling off several times. He hauled himself up on the walkway made by the thickness of the wall and lay there, gasping.
“What a lily-liver,” Jessica commented scornfully when she reached the top a few minutes later. One by one, the rebels joined them on the walkway. “Now where are we going?”
“We’re looking for Jay the Ghast tamer,” Erik explained as they started through a maze of cells and tight corridors. Inside the dungeon, it was dark, dank, and smelly. Creepy noises echoed through the empty halls.
Jessica was unfazed. “Jay--he’s pretty important, isn’t he?”
“Yeah,” Erik agreed. “So I’d bet he would be in one of the ‘important cells.’ We’d better start heading for the central--”
“Get back!” a dark-skinned girl warned, and pulled Erik out of the open just as a pair of guards came into the hallway they were walking down. The men stopped in the middle of the hallway and discussed something amongst themselves. They had gruff, sludgy accents, making it hard to understand what they were saying. One of them grunted something and left down an adjacent corridor, leaving the first alone.
“Now’s my chance,” the scruffy teenage boy from before said, and slid out into the open before anyone could stop him. “Hey, kid!” the guard said, clearly enough, angry that either a prisoner escaped or that a civilian got inside the prison.
Either way, it didn’t matter. The kid hit a hard punch to his head, knocking him out cold. While the guard was down, the boy stole his armour, leaving the man in his normal clothes. He slid on the armour and flashed a thumbs-up to his group.
“What was that for?” Jessica grilled the boy as the group continued their way down towards the center. “You better have a dang good reason for nearly blowing our cover like that!”
“I do have a good reason,” the boy defended. “Just wait until the next time we cross paths with a guard.”
They snooped around a little while longer, having no idea where they should go, until they crossed into a four-way hub with one lone guard posted. The teenager motioned for the others to stay back, hidden behind a corner, then approached the guard.
“Good day,” the guard greeted the imposter.
“Excuse me, but could you give me directions to Jay the Ghast Tamer’s cell?” the imposter asked. The guard eyed him suspiciously. “Why do you want to know?”
The teenager did a remarkable job of crafting a cover-up on the spot. “Well, I’m new here, and I was summoned to guard Jay’s cell. They need all the help they can get over there, after all. The problem is, I have no idea where this cell is. How could I possibly do my job if I have not an idea where to go?”
The guard took it hook, line, and sinker. “From here, keep alternating left and right at corners and going straight down halls. You’ll be down at Cell Alpha 1 in no time. Can’t miss it.”
“Thanks plenty,” the teenager said sweetly, then promptly sucker-punched the guard unconscious as soon as he turned his back. That kid had TNT in his fists.
“You heard the man.” The teen waved to the others. “Keep alternating.”
Jessica came up to him. “Impressive, Sluggy.”
“I told you the armour suit would come in handy.”
----
As promised, twenty turns later, they came to a set of large iron doors with “ALPHA 1” painted on them. Despite their foreboding appearance, the doors were unlocked. Still, they were heavy, and it took a communal effort from the team to push them open.
The doors swung open to reveal a medium-sized atrium. It was dominated by a stone brick cube in the centre of its floor. Guards milled about the space, toting their spears and looking bored.
“Okay,” Erik whispered. “Do we have a plan?”
“Lola,” Jessica addressed the pretty dark-skinned girl. “You’re the brains of this operation. Got any ideas?
“I’ll knock them out,” the teen boy, whose nickname was apparently Sluggy, cut in, slapping his fist into his open palm.
Lola shook her head. “That won’t work. There’s too many guards. They’ll overpower you.”
“Darn,” Sluggy said quietly, shoulders slumping. “I like punching these guys out.”
“We have to make a distraction or something,” Erik said.
“Yeah. A distraction,” Jessica agreed. “But what?”
“It will have to be something that will drive all of these men out of the room.” Lola adjusted her glasses. “What about...a fire?”
“Did someone say fire?” a redheaded boy piped up, whipping out his flint and steel.
“A fire,” Jessica mused. “Perfect.”
“Yessss!” the redheaded maniac hissed, and started to go back into the hall.
“Go find the most flammable room, and light it up like a Christmas tree,” Jessica instructed as he left. “And stay hidden!”
“Yeah, yeah!” The boy disappeared into the hallway while the others hid in the atrium. Several minutes later, they heard screams and a fire alarm siren echoing through the building.

“Oh, my gosh!” the guards exclaimed. “Fire!”
They quickly vacated Alpha 1, leaving the entire room unguarded. As the last one approached the exit, the rebels sprung into action.
“Nope.” Sluggy used his signature move on him, knocking him to the floor. He stole the downed guard’s keyring and tossed it to Erik. “Do your stuff, Erik the Good.”
“Uh-huh.” Erik ran over to the cell, unlocked the door, and went inside.

“Ooh...ow…” I moaned. The bare iron manacles around my wrists cut painfully into my skin. Their chains were taut, forcing my arms to be almost straight at my sides. My muscles ached from the strain. The chains on my ankles weren’t as tight, but they seemed to be heavier, not to mention that they made an obnoxious clinking sound at the slightest movement of my legs. I was in a despairing cubic chamber of stone brick, with one iron door and a small window allowing a peep at the atrium outside. So this was what it felt like to be a maximum-security prisoner. I wasn’t sure whether to be offended or honoured (in a weird way) that they felt such a measure of security had to be put on me. I was thinking about this when the cell door opened. I looked up. Standing in the threshold was none other than Erik, carrying a keyring.
I let out a flat “What.” at his appearance.
“Hi.” He waved awkwardly.
“What are you doing here?” I stared daggers at him.
“I’m busting you out of here, that’s what I’m doing.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me. I thought you were Erik the Good. What dastardly trick is Dmitri setting up this time?”
“Erik the Good is a phony,” Erik said scornfully as he fumbled with his keyring, trying to find the right one to unlock each shackle. Eventually, I was free.
“Thanks,” I said breathlessly, and started running towards the door. A tall, scrawny girl stopped me.
“Whoa,” she said. “Take it easy, chief. What’s the big hurry?”
“What the--” I said, looking around at the group of scruffy kids (seriously, the girl was the oldest of the bunch and, she looked no older than eighteen) who appeared to have replaced the squad of guards patrolling Alpha 1. “Who are you people?”
“Just some friends,” Erik explained.
“We are not your friends,” the girl said coldly. “As soon as we get out of here, I want those diamonds.”
“Uh...Did these guys help you?” I shook my head. “Never mind. I gotta find Marshmallow.”
“Yeah, we helped him.” said the girl. “And if you’re going to rescue your Ghast friend--I’m assuming this Marshmallow character is your pet Ghast--you’ll need this.” She slapped a lock pick into my hand.
That’s right! No doubt they would have shackles galore on poor Marshmallow.
“Thanks. But y’all can mosey on out already. I need to save Marshmallow alone.” With that, I set off into the maze of corridors to find my pet Ghast.
----
“Ohh,” I gasped. The cell was a deep pit with a walkway all round it. The stone brick walls were sooty and grimy, and only a little light reached in from slits between the barred windows.
Marshmallow was in its centre, lying on the cold, bumpy stone floor. A thick iron shackle was locked around each of his tentacles, with a chain attached that ran to an iron plate bolted to the floor or wall. The muzzle was still around his mouth and they had never bothered to take off his bridle, either. His giant white body was marred with bruises and cuts.
“Poor Marshy!” I whispered, and looked around for a way to get down to his cell. No such luck. There wasn’t a staircase or even a ladder I could climb. I would have to use a different method of getting down there.
Just then, I heard an iron door on the mezzanine creak open. I ducked behind a pillar holding the low roof aloft and peeked out from behind it. A guard came out onto the walkway, casually swinging his spear.
Aha, I thought. I’ll watch how he gets down there. Sure enough, he was going for Marshy’s cell. He counted a specific number of bars on the railing, and cranked the eighteenth one back towards himself. There was a grinding, scraping sound, and a secret staircase slid out of the wall. The guard vaulted over the fence and galloped down the stairs. I had to wait until he left, though, and that was a thoroughly trying experience.
The guard lit a torch and stepped up to Marshmallow, shining the light in his face. The Ghast whined and twisted away from him. The guard grabbed the strap of the muzzle, pulling back on it and forcing Marshmallow to turn towards him. “Stupid Ghast,” he grumbled, and kicked Marshy.
Another guard came down the steps and joined him. “Any luck?”
Any luck with what? I wondered.
“No,” the first guard growled, and kicked Marshmallow again, who cried in pain. “I’ve beat him round enough, but no. Nada. Nothing. Can’t get him to obey.”
“Shoot. What’s Dmitri gonna say if we can’t force this Ghast into submission? We’ll never learn how to fly one of those things as long as it won’t back down.”
“He’ll be royally ticked off, that’s for sure,” said the second guard. “Investing all that loot into a Nether excursion just to find out that we can’t subdue the Ghasts? Not good, man, not good.”
I swallowed a gasp. So that’s what that rotten piece of scum was planning! He was going to kidnap Ghasts and make them be part of his cavalry--probably to stop mob tamers like me from making a stir. And he was going to take them down by cruelty and force. What an idiot! Didn’t he know that doesn’t work?
“How does Jay do it, anyway?” the first guard complained.
“I dunno, but the boss said they were gonna work on him next.”
Uhp. Something told me that “work on him” didn’t mean a polite interview. We had to get out of there, and fast. As soon as the guards left, I scurried over to the railing and counted out the bars. When I reached the eighteenth, I bent it back, activating the secret staircase. Checking my left and right quickly for anyone who might have heard, I scrambled down the steps to the floor of the cell.
“Psst,” I whispered to Marshmallow. “Marshy. It’s me.”
Marshmallow started to make a happy cry, but I stopped him. “Shh. We can’t let them hear us.” I took out the lock-picking tool Erik’s friend had given me, and stuck the end of it in the lock on the first of his irons, twisting and working it around in the mechanism. Eventually, I heard a satisfying click and the metal band popped open.
“Good,” I said through gritted teeth. “One down, eight to go.” Unlocking the rest of his chains took longer than I wanted it to, but there wasn’t much I could do about it besides try to manipulate the mechanisms and lay the chains on the floor as quickly and quietly as possible.
Once those were done, I went to work on the muzzle. It was a dense wire screen pressed hard against his lower face, holding his jaw shut, with leather straps running around the circumference of his head. I took out my sword and peeled back one of the straps as far as I could.
“Hold still,” I advised, and slipped the blade under it. With a quick backward jerk, I sliced through the leather. Marshmallow shook off his restraint, then tapped fervently at his bridle with a tentacle.
I shook my head. “No. Sorry, but you need to keep that on.” I took hold of the reins and pointed at the steps. “Come on. Let’s go.”
By some miracle I snuck out through back rooms and hallways without detection (and that’s really saying something if you’re sneaking out of a big shot’s dungeon with a Ghast in tow), and eventually came to the big stone outer wall, the last barrier between captivity and freedom. It was a plain square encompassing the entire dungeon complex, with four towers at each corner.
Erik was waiting for me. “We need to talk.”

Time to defy a little gravity...
“I just want to say thank--” I started as we strolled down the narrow walkway formed on the dungeon wall, but Erik whipped around and cut me off.
“Jay. What's the matter with you? Three years ago you were totally normal. Now you're some sort of deranged Ghast king!” Erik growled, pointing an accusing finger at me. “I hope you’re happy.”
I was taken aback. No way was I expecting the guy who just sprung me from the clink to be so angry. But as I thought about it, what right did he have to be mad? He was the one who landed me there in the first place.
“Oh, yeah? I hope you’re happy!” I shot back, planting my hands on my hips. Erik recoiled in shock.
“I hope you’re proud of yourself--betraying your best friend just for cred as Erik the Good!” I continued, stepping forward and getting up in his face.
He pushed me away. “You can’t say that. That is so unfair!”
I returned a shove. “Is it? IS IT?”
He put up his hands defensively. “Jay, calm down. ...Just say you're sorry. You can still be a good citizen. Blend in with society, get rid of Marshmallow, uh...unquestioningly follow the king's orders...um…”
I shook my head as we walked along, discussing this. “I don't want that anymore. I'm tired of playing by their rules, working my hands to the bone just to line a greedy king's pockets. I'm not getting caught in that trap.”
Erik shrugged. “Then what do you want to do--ride Ghasts?”
I sighed blissfully, thinking about Ghast riding. “Oh, I tell you, there is nothing like it! The wind roaring in your ears, that spray of mist when you break through the cloud layer—it's awesome.” I let out a little gasp as I hatched an idea. “Erik, come with me. We could be a team. The two friends that no-one's gonna bring down.”
Erik was quiet for a moment, wringing his hands. Then he shook his head softly. “Sorry, Jay, old friend, but the people need me.”
I was disappointed, but I understood anyway. “I see.”
“I hope you’re happy,” he said, not sarcastic this time, “choosing this.”
We now stood facing each other on the balcony of the clock tower. The giant face of the clock tower, as big as Marshmallow, loomed behind us, as the sun rolled toward the western horizon.
“You too,” I said. “I guess the people do need Erik the Good.”
“And Marshmallow needs Jay the Ghast Tamer,” Erik agreed.
He and I bounced down the steps back to the wall with the ladder that would lead down from this lofty place to the ground. I signaled Marshmallow to dip below the wall until I was ready for him.
“Well, so long, then--” I started to say, but I was interrupted by a loud crash.
The doors on a nearby stair-tower were bashed down by a squad of night watch guards who had spotted us while we were dilly-dallying. Then, on the other end of the wall-walk, a second team rushed onto the walk from that tower.

“Egad!” Dmitri yelled at the scene he was greeted with: an escaped Jay in a showdown with Erik the Good. “What’s going on here?”
Erik, bless his soul, pretended to keep up his cred as Erik the Good to cover me. “I was trying to stop him!” he shouted, pointing at me. “I did all I could.”
Dmitri waved him off and grabbed a crossbow from its holster on his back. “Save yourself, man! The townsies need Erik the Good!” Then, he addressed me. “You’re under arrest! ...Again!”
I looked around. With guards on my right and left, a dead end on the clock tower behind, and a hefty drop off the walls in front of me, I was trapped. No escape…
No escape...except for Marshmallow. While the guards pressed in with their spears and halberds drawn, I flashed them a knowing, confident smirk and stepped up onto the ridge of the wall.
“Oh, yeah?” Before their shocked faces, I hopped off, falling cleanly out of their sight. A second later, I came whooshing back into view, standing on Marshmallow, who screamed his Ghast-scream at the terrified and awed knights.
“You want to find me? Look to the western sky!” I thrust my arm out at the sun setting in the fiery western sky. “I might be flying alone, but at least I’m flying free!”
“JAY!” Erik called, but I couldn’t tell if he was angry or happy. It didn’t matter. The knights rushed up to the edge of the wall, jostling him out of the way.
“No-one’s gonna bring me down!” I yelled, spreading my arms wide. “Not you, not the Circle, not even the king! I’M FREE!”
“Look at him! He’s wicked!” they shouted. Dmitri grabbed out an arrow, loaded it onto his crossbow, and lifted the weapon up to his eye, taking aim at Marshmallow. “We’ve gotta bring him down!”
Dmitri loosed the arrow. It shot off of the bow and streaked toward Marshmallow. The Ghast writhed and twisted away before it could find its mark. We soared off into the evening, leaving an enraged Analiesean Royal Guard--and an overwhelmed Erik--behind.

Two weeks later
“All right, that’s it.” I kicked a rock in frustration. Once again, Marshy and I were hiding in the vast sandy wastes of the southern desert. The cave I was sheltering temporarily in was even more miserable than the Cave of Ancients. However, the both of us knew full well that we couldn’t stay. Dmitri and his goons were hunting me down with even more fervor than before.
“That’s it,” I repeated as I wiped Marshmallow’s cuts with a wet cloth. He had them all over his body from where guards had apparently jabbed him with their weapons, trying to prod him into submission. Some of them had scabbed over already, but for most of them, I had to tape pieces of wool over as bandages. I couldn’t do much for his bruises, so I let them be. He squeaked, cried, and occasionally lashed out at me with a tentacle as I worked.

“Ouch!” I rubbed the side of my face where he struck me with a tentacle. “Stop that. I know it hurts, but I have to do this. Otherwise, it’s not gonna heal.”
He backed down after that, and I could finish cleaning him up without getting walloped by an appendage again.
“I’ve been thinking,” I started, amazed that I was so lonely, I was talking to an animal that I knew couldn’t answer, “The Overworld is too dangerous. They’re running all over creation trying to find me as we speak. We have to leave.” Marshmallow made two short, crisp cries as if to ask, “Go where?”
I looked him right in the eye. “The Nether.”
The only Nether portal anywhere near here was the one in the Cave of Ancients. Well, okay, it was actually the frame of one, the portal having flickered out long ago. Once Marshmallow was ready, I saddled him up and got ready to fly over there.
Ghast riding makes the desert a lot more tolerable. The wind was pleasantly cool as it whipped past, and I leaned over slightly in the saddle to watch the waves of sand-land shining in the clear sunlight. A few minutes later, the wide yawning form of the Cave of Ancients appeared and I guided Marshmallow to coast downwards and stop.
I hopped off and led Marshmallow into the dark depths of the cave, lighting a torch when the shadows became too much. It was somewhat larger than the usual portal--10x8 instead of 3x4. I stuck the torch in the ground, kneeled near the bottom edge of the portal frame, and got out my flint and steel.
While Marshy looked on, I struck the steel against the flint at a hard, sharp angle. A spark jumped from the contact point, then disappeared without a flame. I grunted in frustration and tried again. Starting fires with a flint n’ steel wasn’t one of my strong suits.
It took eight tries, but I finally got a spark to land within the frame of glassy dark rock. A fire flashed for half a second before transforming into a wide, swirling purple portal. I took hold of Marshmallow’s reins again, smiled at him, and ducked into the portal, taking my Ghast with me.
----
“Gami*, it’s time,” Megarah reminded Kusu. The other six siblings, now adult Ghasts, floated at her side.
Like any father sad about his child leaving the nest, Kusu faltered. “I know, but…”
“We’ll be fine,” Megarah assured him, patting his side. “You’ve taught us well. And don’t worry about Ahdeemdi--”
“I am worried about Ahdeemdi!” Kusu protested, desperate to shield the runt of the litter from the cold and cruel outside world.
“--I will protect him. He will be safe with me. It is my duty as the eldest sibling to care for the youngest.”
Kusu smiled, proud of his daughter’s wisdom and responsibility. He addressed all seven. “Splendid. You and the others are ready. Go forth; stay out of trouble; find good places to live. Be brave. Be kind. Be gentle...except with humans.
“Megarah, you were named after the virtues of Mercy and Compassion. Exhibit them. Never take pleasure in killing or wounding.
“Vikteren, your name means Winner, but that will not ensure your life will be without defeat. But I have no fear, for you were brought up learning how to be gracious in victory and accepting in defeat. I trust that you will carry this for the remainder of your life.
“Tarevo, this world is filled with deception and trickery. Be as Sharp as your name proclaims. Be wise and discerning. But should your wit and logic falter, don’t despair. Learn from your mistakes and move on; such is the course of life.
“Nah, from your childhood you have been a bright beacon of Joy to all of us. Never lose that cheerful glow, dear one.
“Kadoi-Du, you have all the beauty and grace of your mother, and therefore I named you to reflect that. Be a touch of Magic in every life you touch.
“Saloh, you are bold and brave. I cannot be certain that one day you will not be a King. Be brave but not reckless, and bold but not arrogant. Rule with kindness and respect.
“And finally, Ahdeemdi, my Little Man, you are small in size but big in heart. Don’t be afraid of the world. Megarah will protect you. And one day, perhaps not all that long in the future, you will be strong to protect yourself.”
“Love you, gami.” Megarah licked her father on the side of her face (the Ghast equivalent of a kiss a little girl would give her dad before he would leave for traveling) and flew off with Ahdeemdi following close behind. Vikteren gave Kusu a fist-bump with his tentacle, because he was “too cool” for a goodbye lick. Tarevo, and Saloh did so as well, while Kadoi-Du and Nah weren’t above goodbye licks. Once they had said their proper farewells, they flew off, excited to start lives on their own.
Kusu watched them leave and sighed sadly. Once the seven were gone, he had one last part of his speech to make--one last child to address.
“And for you, On-Kandun, wherever you are, I pray that someday you won’t be lost and unknown to me any more.” Kusu whispered.

*The word gami is an informal term for “father,” similar to Papa or Daddy.

“Yeowch! Hot-hot-hot!” I squealed as I was spat out of the Nether portal and skidded across the floor of red rock. I rolled onto my back, giggling. Marshmallow floated above me, confused and concerned about my strange display.
“Chill out, buddy. I’m fine.” I stood up and brushed the grit off of my clothes. “I’ve been to the Nether before...obviously.” I slipped my hand through the loop of reins and clumsily climbed back onto his back.
“All right.” I squinted through the hazy red fog. “I’m pretty sure there was a fortress around here somewhere. Let’s check it out.”
Sure enough, the Nether fortress I had failed to reach so long ago broke through the mist, looking small and insignificant from atop Marshmallow. I directed him to circle around the structure, planning on having him slow down and land on one of the bridges.
He didn’t.
“Whup! Watch it!” I exclaimed at the Ghast suddenly veered left and shivered. I yanked on the reins and pulled him back into the proper flight pattern, only for him to derail to the right.
“What’s gotten into you?” I growled, guiding him into line. The Ghast started whimpering and slid onto the bridge, coming to a stop. I jumped off.
“Atta boy, Marshmallow,” I said, patting him on his side. I took off his bridle and replaced it with the rope halter. As I did, I noticed that he was shaking like a scared puppy and he glanced around nervously as if a predator was going to pounce on him.
“Are...are you, okay, Marshy?”
Marshy whimpered again and covered his eyes with two of his tentacles. I helped push him into the sheltered part of the fortress through a large entrance-way. The fortress, usually a hub of hostile activity, was oddly vacant. Every time I’d raided one in times past, there were stalwart Wither Skeletons patrolling the hallways that had to be battled, troops of sad, tired-looking Zombie Pigmen wandering aimlessly through the structure, and clouds of guardian Blazes to dispatch. But there was none of that here now.
The dimly-lit and creepy dark crimson corridors were even more unsettling when the place was abandoned. Sure, it was nice to walk round the place without being in danger of getting a Wither Skeleton’s sword sunk into my back or being blasted from being by a Blaze, but the emptiness and loneliness, and the looming feeling of something bad about to happen, was arguably just as bad.
I walked out onto an open plaza. Bits of a broken Blaze spawner littered the rocky floor. There was something else there, too, that made horrified shivers run down my back. Burned into the floor, in lopsided letters and broken English, was a message:
NOW TOO LATE, HUMAN.
A Ghast swooped into view, glaring at me with its hellfire-red eyes. Its lips were peeled back to reveal a mouth full of deadly fangs, from behind which a red glow leaked out. Its face was creased and back was arched, suggesting that this was an elderly Ghast. Despite his age, this specimen exhibited all the fury and danger of one in its prime.
The old Ghast wrenched upon its jaw, a fireball forming on its tongue. Despite that I was about to be pummeled point-blank by a fireball, my leg muscles locked in place and refused to respond. I couldn’t fight, couldn’t run, couldn’t do anything.
Just then, with a scream, Marshmallow burst out of the sheltered space and intervened, throwing himself between the hostile Ghast and I.
----
“What are you doing--Get out of the way!” Kusu snarled at the Ghast who had just disrupted his line of fire. He was about to blast this miserable human to bits when that cabbage-head got in the way.
“You’re in my line of fire, you ignoramus! I’m trying to dispose of this human menace!” He shoved the other Ghast out of the way. As it was knocked backwards by the force, he took notice of the bridle in its mouth. “And what are you doing with that ugly contraption in your mouth?”
“Don’t hurt him!” the bridled Ghast cried, muffled through the restraint. He had an oddly human-sounding accent. “That’s my tamer!”
“Your what?” Kusu bellowed. “No. You’re a Ghast. Ghasts are not tamed!”
“Well, this one is!” the bridled Ghast defended. “Jay takes good care of me. He hatched my egg, raised me from a hatchling, rescued me from the bad humans, and takes me flying all the time.”
“You’re a disgrace--wait.” Kusu paused mid-rant. “Did you say you were hatched from an egg by this human you call Jay?”
“Uh-huh.”
Kusu blinked, then realized who this other Ghast was. Then his eyes welled up with a fresh batch of tears.
“I never knew my real father," Marshmallow continued.
Kusu blinked, letting the tears of joy run down the sides of his face. “You’re talking to him.”
“W-What?”
“My mate and I, we had eight eggs. But a human stole one of them. You were that eighth egg.” “I was?”
“What’s your name, son? What does Jay call you?”
“Marshmallow. My name is Marshmallow.”
Oh my gosh! Marshmallow TALKED! Mind = blown!

“Marshmallow? What are you doing?” I tilted my head, curious. My Ghast appeared to be conversing with my would-be opponent.
The old Ghast, smiling kindly for some strange reason, floated over to me. I ducked in fear, but he reached down to the ground and wiped away the ashes from the burned spots instead of attacking. Then he gently blew flame over the fresh ground, spelling out a new message:

YOU BE GOOD I SEE. NO FEAR. I BE KUSU.

“Your name is Kusu?” I asked. He nodded and brushed away the words, then wrote new ones:

I BE FATHER OF MARSHMALLOW.

“And you’re my Ghast’s father. Holy cow! What are the odds?”

YOU STEAL EGG. BAD.

I drooped my head. “I’m sorry.”

I FORGIVE. YOU DO GOOD NOW.

“We came here for safety--ironic, I know.” I told Kusu my story, from when I stole the egg up until just now. He drifted to the ground and listened intently, occasionally nodding or making a small noise to react to what I was saying. When I was finished, he wrote on the ground:

GOOD STORY. BUT NOT SAFE IN NETHER. NOT FOR HUMAN.

“It can’t be worse than being hounded in the Overworld.”

NO WATER. NO FOOD FOR HUMAN. CAN NOT LIVE.

“Are you sure?”

YES. TAKE MARSHMALLOW. GO HOME.

“Maybe I hadn’t thought it through fully. Are you sure you want Marshmallow to come with me?”
MARSHMALLOW HAPPY AS IS. DO GOOD JAY.

“I will treat him well,” I promised, climbing into the saddle once again. As we flew off, I yelled back to Kusu, “Thank you, sir!”
----
“La-dee-dah, it’s a nomad’s life for me,” I mumble-sang as we emerged from the portal and tried to stave off the nausea from portal travel. I ducked to avoid banging my head on the top edge of the obsidian frame. When I looked back up, Marshmallow had screeched to a sudden stop...and with good reason.
“Long time, no see, Jay,” Dmitri, accompanied by a team of about eleven guards, sneered.
“Crud.” I facepalmed. Not again!
“Crud indeed,” he said with a nasty smile, then addressed his goons. “Arrest them!”
“Not gonna happen!” I sailed Marshy right over their heads, dodging the arrows from their bows as they zipped past. Marshmallow crashed into the side of the Cave of Ancients as we escaped, dislodging sand from the mouth of the cave that fell in a messy pile to slow down our pursuers.
“After them, you fools!” I could hear Dmitri shouting at his men, before we coasted out of earshot. A minute later, Marshmallow cried in alarm as they broke out of the sand barrier and galloped after us on their horses. Marshy wasn’t fast for a Ghast, and these must have been the city’s best steeds, because they were booking, and catching up to us quickly.
“Oh, man--this is not good!” I yelled, desperately spurring Marshy with my knee.
The endless folds of sand-land below abruptly broke off into a wide ravine. Even from high above, I could spot the evil glow of lava at its bottom. Not good.
And especially not good when an enemy arrow planted itself in my back. It wasn’t a killing shot (not fully charged and landing on my left lower back), but the force and surprise was enough to knock me out of the saddle. I fell to the ground and landed on my bottom in a spray of sand, sustaining four hearts of damage in all.
Marshy screamed in concern and spiraled around to float down and help. Meanwhile, the knights and their horses were galloping up to me, spears and halberds drawn.
“No, Marshmallow!” I yelled. “Go away! Save yourself!”
Marshy didn’t obey. As soon as he touched down near me, eight knights surrounded him and threw lead ropes over him, pinning him down. They staked the ropes in the ground with tent pegs, ensuring that he wouldn’t escape. I was sitting on a tongue of rock that extended precariously over the ravine. Dmitri approached, drawing his diamond sword. I pulled out my own sword, made of the same material and slightly worn, and stood up carefully, taking fight stance.
“I’ve waited a long time for this moment, Jay,” Dmitri began to monologue, holding out his weapon. That stinky imp. I half-expected him to grow horns and pointy tail.
“I’ve waited a long time for this moment, too,” I countered. “Beating the crud out of you is going to be really enjoyable, I do think.”
That definitely rubbed him the wrong way. All at once and with a yodeling war-cry, he charged forward and swiped his sword at me. In a split second, I lifted my own blade to meet it, and they crashed together with a screeching clang. I withdrew my sword and instantly whipped it forward again, knocking Dmitri off balance and causing him to stumble backwards.
“Rebel! Agitator!” he screamed at me. He swung at me again and I blocked it, but then he kicked me in the gut and I staggered three steps closer to falling off the ledge. He shot forwards, not letting me regain the distance I had lost.
“I’m done dealing with you!” He hacked wildly and I struggled to parry his blows.
“Same!” I sidestepped so I wasn’t directly in the line of fire anymore.
“And when--I’m done--with--you--” he threatened between blocked strikes, “--the city--will be safe--once more!”
“You’re--the danger--to the city!” I retorted, doing a quick double take behind me. The fight was pushing us closer to the ravine. Dmitri took notice of this and he flashed an evil smile at me.
“Goodbye!” He knocked my sword out of my hand, kicked me again, and sent me plummeting down the ravine.

“ERRRRRAAAAAH!” Marshmallow wailed his loudest, most wild scream yet, and struggled against his restraints.
“Hey--get back, you!” the nervous soldiers guarding him warned, pointing their spears.
They didn’t scare Marshmallow. The Ghast switched his teeth-set from normal to all-fangs, lashed out his tentacles, and ripped some of the pegs out of the ground. Then he reared up with as much force as he could muster. The ropes snapped and he rose into the air, snarling fiercely. He swatted his foes out of his way, and zoomed over to the ravine with a speed that would put a falcon to shame. Without stopping to consider, he dove in.
----
I yelled like a terrified kid as gravity hungrily swallowed up the distance between me and certain death. The wind roared in my ears like an irate dragon. My arms flailed, uselessly slicing through the air. I was helpless. Then, the wind inexplicably seemed to go quiet, settling to a low hum. The saturation of fear in me dissipated, and a strange sense of peace washed over me.
I had made peace with my friend. I had accomplished my dream of riding the Ghast. I had fought. I had fought well, and had won a few times to boot. But I wasn’t going to win this skirmish. Somehow, that was okay. If I died, at least I died free.
----
As it turns out, heaven had other plans. A loud screech sounding uncannily like “JAY!” rang from above, and I looked up. The huge white form of Marshmallow soared down towards me. He flew so fast, his tears ducts were in overdrive, with a constant flow of the grey liquid streaming from his red eyes. In those red eyes shone a glow of fierce determination. His teeth were gritted, and his back was arched to make himself more aerodynamic. He was throwing his all into saving me. Marshmallow whipped out a tentacle and wrapped it around my torso, halting my fall.
I glanced, wide-eyed, below me. I had been stopped no more than two blocks away from the lava. I could feel its heat from where I floated. Gasping from the emotion of the moment, I met Marshmallow’s gaze with a look that silently screamed, “Thank you!”
Marshmallow brought his appendage up and dropped me on his back. I took hold of the reins, gripping them so hard my knuckles turned white.
“Okay, I’m ready,” I said, then braced for the sudden upwards rush that followed shortly thereafter. A few seconds later, we popped up over the edge of the ravine. Dmitri was yelling at his men for letting Marshmallow escape.
“You incompetent, unprofessional, idiotic fools!” he spat at them. “You let that dratted Ghast get away! You were supposed to keep that thing in check until I was ready to kill it!”
“Sorry,” a bunch of men offered for a lame apology.
“Hey, look behind you,” one of the soldiers said to the captain, pointing at me.
Dmitri whirled around and his jaw unhinged in shock. “JAY?! Wha-what? You’re supposed to be dead!”
“Surprise?” I shrugged.
“Get him! Don’t just capture him this time!” Dmitri commanded the knights, who scrambled to pull out their swords and load their bows. “Kill him and that Ghast! Get rid of them both!”
“You’re never gonna bring us down!” I taunted, directing Marshmallow this way and that to avoid the volley of incoming arrows. “No-one is! We’re free!”
“You’re not gonna be free when I’m done with you,” Dmitri threatened. “You and your stupid Ghast are both going to be dead!”
“Oh, really?” I bent down, got out a spare sword, and did something really risky.

I cut Marshmallow’s bridle clean off.

The Ghast spat it out, clicked his teeth together, then shrieked an untameable screech. He spat a fireball first at the men who had tied him down and beat him up, then zeroed in and whisked four more into the air with a tentacle before backpedaling and going on the attack with the fireballs again.
Dmitri looked round in fear as his men were incapacitated by Marshmallow’s attacks. A battle-battered swordsman crawled up to him and begged him to surrender.
“No, we cannot bring him down!” the men who were still conscious cried, an ironic echo of how they had yelled “We’ve gotta bring him down!” when I escaped from the dungeon.
While a defeated Dmitri watched in despair, I waved good-bye. Marshmallow and I flew off, deep into the far wilderness where no-one would find us.
Well, someone would eventually find us, but that’s another story…

“How are we going to explain this to King Walter?” one of Dmitri’s soldiers asked as they walked back to Analiese. He pulled off his helmet and inspected the damage.
Dmitri bit his lower lip and looked away. The last thing he wanted was to admit that he had failed--yet again--to defeat Jay. Heck, the one time he was was because he used a dirty trick! He shifted his shoulders, trying to come up with an excuse or a way to mince his words so it didn’t seem so bad.
“Walter’s going to be really angry when he finds out that a spunky teenager and one lousy Ghast defeated a squad of his best fighting men,” the soldier reminded him, “and that he got away basically unscathed.”
“I know!” Dmitri snapped, shooting him a scowl. “Ugh. Look, no-one said that we had to tell the truth--”
“That’s not true; what about ‘truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth’ in court?” asked another soldier.
“Shut up!” Dmitri growled. He shook his head. “Look. We’ve tangled with Jay for long enough. And we’re tired of fighting him, right? Trying to keep him in check?”
“Right,” the soldiers agreed, not sure where he was going with this.
“And I’m sure Jay is done fighting us, too. He even told me that when we were dueling.”
“Okay…”
“It would be really stupid and pretty pointless for him to return, I’m sure. He’s going to go out of his way to avoid this country from now on.”
“Makes sense…”
“So why don’t we just tell King Walter that we killed Jay? The Ghast-rider is never gonna come back here, anyway. Plus, we won’t look like incompetent oafs in front of the king. What say you?”
“It sounds good to us,” a bunch of soldiers concurred, nodding enthusiastically.
“Good. That’s what we’ll do.”
----
“I want results,” Walter demanded when Dmitri and his goons were led into his throne room. The king sat on his gold throne upon a high dais, looking down on his underlings like the haughty ruler he was.
“And we have them,” Dmitri assured, putting on his pretentious smirk. “The battle was difficult, and we hardly emerged safely from it…”
“Yes? And?” Walter leaned forward in his seat, excited.
“But we have triumphed! Jay the Ghast Tamer and his foul beast are no more!”
“Ah, yes, yes!” Walter brayed, clapping fervently. “I knew you could do it!”
“Thank you, sire.” Dmitri bowed.
“We’ll make this day a holiday!”
“A scrumptious idea.” Dmitri and his soldiers left to go set up for the event.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me...ERIK! GET IN HERE!”
Erik scurried into the room, did a nervous salute to Walter, and asked, “What is it?”
“Oh, wonderful news, Erik the Good,” Walter said, laughing heartily. “We are rid of the country’s greatest menace! He’s dead, good and dead, I tell you!”
“Ah...who is ‘the country’s greatest menace,’ anyway?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Jay the Ghast Tamer!”
“Wha-what?” Erik couldn’t even mask his surprise.
“Oh, and I see you’re just in shock with joy. Yes, this is a most wonderful day. In fact, I am giving you the honour of making the speech at the ceremony! Go out and give those scared people a stirring, eloquent speech right now!”
“But--I don’t think--” An armour-bearer came in and grabbed Erik by the arm, pulling him out onto the plaza, which had been hastily set up with a soapbox and some yellow banners. The bodyguard gave him a shove into the open, then retreated back into the castle. Caught in the sudden bright noonday sun, Erik blinked and rubbed his eyes. When he could see properly again, a horde of people gathered for the event stared back at him.
----
“Speech! Speech! Speech!” the crowd chanted. They pumped their fists in the air or waved around yellow flags that Dmitri’s soldiers were passing out.
“Um, hello, people of Analiese,” Erik shouted--a very feeble shout. “Today is a special day--I mean, obviously, since they’re passing out those flags and stuff.”
The people thought he was trying to be funny, and started guffawing.
“According to what I’ve been told,” he began over their noise, “Jay the Ghast Tamer has been cornered and killed by our elite men. I’m assuming that means they killed his Ghast, too.”
“Ooh...wow!” they murmured. “Hooray!”
“Jay...he fought well. And his Ghast, too. Hopefully this incident will prove a learning experience for us. We won’t tolerate weirdoes taming monsters. Monsters ought to be eradicated completely,” he lectured, feeding the masses exactly what they wanted to hear, despite his conscience reminding him that he was spewing lies. “And when the monster and the weirdo fall, we all celebrate and do not mourn.”
While the people clapped and hooted, Erik sat down on the soapbox and rested his chin in his hands.
“We all don’t mourn...except me,” he whispered.
----
The wind whooshed around me. Marshmallow floated high above the trees. We had passed over the southern desert, crossing back into verdant forest-land. A sapphire-blue river snaked through the woods, shimmering in the twilight. Proud grey mountains rose up like a line of teeth in the east. Occasionally the cover of trees broke for a meadow-clearing dusted with colourful flowers. I had never traveled this far before, and I didn’t know what to expect. I was nervous. I was excited to be moving into a brand new land, untouched by man.
I patted Marshy’s side. “I am so stoked for this, Marshmallow.”
He chirped in agreement. He turned and we flew to the western sky, in which the fiery sunset burned in a flood of orange and gold.
So, if you ever go to Analiese, you’ll probably hear stories about a deranged monster king. Maybe they’ll show you paintings of a teenaged maniac riding on a Ghast. Just remember, though, that I’m the one they talk about in hushed voices.
They call me Jay the Ghast Tamer.
THE END!

Wow! Betrayal, daring midnight jailbreaks, Wicked references, heartwarming father-son reunions, psycho captains of the guard, violent sword-fights on the cusp of ravines, near-death experiences, lies, and discoveries of brand new lands! What more could someone ask for?