FICTION

Turner laced his fingers together and stretched his hands over his head. “And I hope you like fire,” he said.

“Who doesn’t?” Rob replied faintly.

“Fires generate spontaneously,” Turner went on. “Pow! Then there’s things that set you on fire: lava lakes, blazes, magma cubes. . . .”

Rob took this in soberly. If Colonel M. had given up on the Overworld, what chance did they have of regaining the peace? Then again, the Nether didn’t sound all that hot, either. Or maybe too hot. “Are you sure this Nether isn’t home to fire-breathing dragons?” he asked.

Jools stared at him like he was crazy. “You’re thinking of The End. That’s where the Ender Dragon lives.”

Stormie put a hand on Rob’s elbow. “But don’t worry.  They don’t breathe fire.”

 “Yeah, just acid,” Turner put in. “But that don’t concern you. I’d say your biggest worry in the Nether ain’t whether you’re gonna burn up, but how.”

This seeped into Rob’s consciousness like cement into foam rubber. Forget spiders and the pitch-dark; a flaming underworld was definitely something he was afraid of. And in no way could he admit that to this group.

Book cover artwork and text excerpts courtesy of Hollan Publishing. Horse photo, “Heritage,” courtesy of Zane Healy. These books are not authorized or sponsored by Microsoft Corporation., Mojang AB, Notch Development AB, or Scholastic Corporation Inc., or any other person or entity owning or controlling rights in the Minecraft name, trademark, or copyrights.

EVIL FORCES are attempting to enslave Overworld players and villagers by staking out biome boundaries with enchanted mobs. When a peace-loving cowboy named Roberto drops into the game, he makes it his mission to liberate the populace—with a little help from his new friends: Frida, master survivalist; Jools, high-tech strategist; Turner, muscle personified; Stormie, terrain expert; and Kim, the “bronc whisperer.” Together with six warhorses they form a cavalry strong enough to challenge the notorious Dr. Dirt.

CAN ROB guide this group of fiercely independent warriors to victory? If he succeeds, he might find his way home to the ranch he loves. But, to return to his old world, he’ll have to learn to live in Survival mode first. Ride with Rob and the members of Battalion Zero to save the Overworld from griefers, hostile mobs, and freedom killers in The Battle of Zombie Hill, Book 1 in the Defenders of the Overworld series by NANCY OSA ... award-winning author of Cuba 15, a Scholastic Book Club Selection.

Rob was impressed. This Colonel M. was a legendary cavalryman. Just what they needed to help them devise a rock- solid battle plan.

“There’s just one problem,” Kim said, tapping her computer. “The colonel isn’t . . .receiving visitors right now.”

Turner blew out a breath. “So? We’ll go down there and knock on his virtual door. Can’t nobody get thrown out of the Nether.”

“Perhaps because only an imbecile would willingly spend any time there, other than the colonel, of course,” Jools said.

“How come?” Rob asked uneasily.

“Raging lava falls,” Turner pointed out.

“And where there’s lava, there’s blaze mobs,” Jools said.

“Ghasts,” Stormie spat out. “They’ll blow you to kingdom come.”

“And don’t forget the zombie pigmen!” Kim added.

Rob’s eyes widened. “Z-zombie pig—what?”

Kim nodded. “And zombie pigmen could care less about lava.”

Rob’s head was spinning. “Well, at least there aren’t skeletons! That’s a relief.” He chuckled weakly.

“Oh, there are,” Kim said. “Wither skeletons. Tons of ’em.”

“They’re closing in! What should we do, Captain?” Turner puffed in between passes with his blade, sending still-writhing green flesh every which way. Behind them, the villagers charged, their whoops interspersed with screams as they took hits or tumbled into the rocks.

The smart thing to do would be to ride down toward a clearing or to an area where they could lure the zombies over a cliff. If they did that, though, they might never make it back up to the viewpoint Frida had located. Rob felt torn in two. One part of him was committed to the safety and success of the battalion, the other was stubbornly determined to find his way home. He knew what he should do. . . .

“Battalion, to that hilltop. Follow me!” He clapped his heels against Saber’s sides and sent him scrabbling for the viewpoint.