Shattered Lands 3 Demon Wars: A LitRPG Series

by Darren Pillsbury

  Jennifer was sitting on the bed, still stroking Siffis.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Oh – you’re back,” she said, relieved. “That’s so weird – you’ve been standing there like a zombie for hours.”

  “I know… but now I need to leave for good. Siffis, come on.”

  The fire sprite jumped down from her arms, bounded across the floor, and leapt up onto his shoulder.

  “Wait – what?!” she exclaimed as she stood up. “What the hell is going on?”

  “I have to go save Eric.”

  She stared at him. “Eric Richards?!”

  “Yeah,” Daniel said as he started for the door.

  “Your friend, Eric Richards, the hacker who’s wanted by the police?!”

  “Yes.”

  “Why the hell would you want to help him?!”

  “Because he’s in terrible danger,” Daniel said… then added, “And he’s still my friend.”

  Just as he was about to walk out, she blurted, “Let me come with you! Let me help.”

  Daniel turned back and smiled. “I appreciate it, but I’m not actually going to be doing the rescuing. The people who have Eric are going to be looking for me, too.”

  “Then who’s going to save him?”

  “Let’s just say… I know a guy.”

  “Well what should I do?!”

  He paused and thought for a second.

  “Log off. Go enjoy your real life. And if I’m still alive after all this is over, I’ll tell you when to come back to the game.”

  Daniel nodded farewell, then ran down the stone stairs.

  92

  In the field outside Morrill, Daniel tied the bags of gold to his griffin’s saddle. Jorok stood nearby watching him.

  “I appreciate this,” Daniel said.

  “If what you’ve told me is true,” the dwarf said, “then I am giving you the equivalent of grains of sand that can be created at will by the gods from their thrones in the Other Realm.”

  “They’re not gods, just people doing their jobs. They sit on office chairs, not thrones. And right about now, these are very valuable grains of sand,” Daniel grinned as he patted the bags of gold.

  “It’s the least I can do, seeing as I won’t help you in your fight.”

  “About that… the fight’s coming. The Army of the Damned is on the march from Alshurat. They’ll be here within a couple of days, and then you’ll have to fight.”

  “And you know this, how?”

  “The people in the office chairs told me.”

  Jorok looked grim. “So you’ve brought the war to my doorstep, then.”

  “Not me. The thing I told you about is bringing it.”

  “The other… ‘artificial intelligence.’ The one like me, but with more power.”

  “And without any goodness in its heart, unlike you,” Daniel said as he climbed onto the griffin’s back. “You’ve got to be ready.”

  “We will,” Jorok nodded. “So you’re off to the Army of the Damned, eh?”

  “No,” Daniel shouted as the griffin’s wings beat the air and the creature lifted into the sky. “I’m off to their allies in the south.”

  93

  Merridack

  As the Hell Army marched northward to Morrill, Merridack made the most of his time.

  At the rear of the procession, a band of prostitutes traveled along in their own procession of carts. Skull-headed warriors from Hades had no desire (or the necessary equipment) for female flesh, but the army had attracted a large number of warriors who did. The warriors included some NPCs, but mostly video game players attracted by the chaotic carnage and slaughter that the Hell Army promised. After the fighting was done, illicit female companionship was just the icing on the cake.

  Even without the other warriors, Merridack could have kept the prostitutes in business all on his own.

  There was little else to do on the march. He hated the skullheads with a passion – especially Korvos. The general forced him to do his dirty work in every single invasion, ordering Merridack to invade cities to run reconnaissance, then go in later and kill the entire ruling family.

  Merridack didn’t mind killing men, but women and children? No. Never. He’d let every single one of them escape.

  If he could have slit Korvos’ throat, he would have done so without a second’s hesitation – in fact, he would have paid mightily for the privilege. But it was hard to cut a man’s throat when he didn’t have a throat to cut. And when he was surrounded by ten thousand soldiers. That tended to make things more difficult, too.

  Merridack would have deserted, but the last time he tried, Korvos had sent a detachment of skullheads to hunt him down.

  To ‘remind’ him not to do it again, Korvos broke the pinky finger on Merridack’s left hand.

  “I would rather cut off your entire hand, but then you would be useless to me, so… let this be a reminder,” the asshole said as he broke the same finger three times, in three different places.

  So Merridack bided his time, looking for a way out.

  Or a way to murder Korvos.

  Or both, preferably.

  In the meantime, he drowned his sorrows in supple, perfumed female flesh – at ten silver coins for every 15 minutes.

  Pricey, to be sure… but things always came at a premium in times of war.

  Apparently Merridack ‘came’ at a premium, too.

  Anyway, he was riding his horse towards the rear of the 50,000-strong army when one of the prostitutes came galloping up on a horse of her own. Which had probably been purchased solely through hourly sessions with Merridack.

  Her name was Alessia. Though only passably attractive, with limp brown hair and an oversized mole on her forehead, she did possess a wide range of skills that made up for her lack of aesthetics.

  “Ha – couldn’t wait to have my sausage between your legs, and my silver in your greedy little palm?” he chuckled as she fell in beside him.

  “No,” she said, “there’s a new girl in camp – and the madam wants you to have first crack at her!”

  “Really!” he smirked. “Lead on!”

  This was welcome news indeed. It had been a while since there had been a new girl in camp. The regular merchandise had started to lose his charms, in his opinion.

  He rode with Alessia to the rear of the army, where several massive carts were drawn by teams of horses. Each one was decked with silks and pillows inside, and canvas tarps outside, so you could have at least a modicum of privacy while you ‘transacted’ business. And this way the carts never needed to stop, either. A rolling brothel on wheels.

  Merridack found the madam – an unpleasantly fat orcess named Waraq who dressed in black lace and made up her ugly face like a child fingerpaints in the nursery. She was sweating in the back of one of the carts as one of the uglier (and thus least useful) prostitutes fanned her.

  “Waraq, I hear you have a new find for me,” he grinned lustfully.

  “A virgin and a real beauty. Saved her just for you, human,” Waraq grunted. “Five gold.”

  “Five gold?” Merridack exclaimed, and let loose with a barrage of curses. “By Azzoth’s balls, I could have the rest of your girls 24 hours straight for that price!”

  “So do that instead.”

  “And she’s a virgin! She won’t have any skills!”

  “But she’s fresh and untouched. You want to break her in, you pay the price.” The orcess grinned. “For ten gold, though, I’ll let you go as long as you like.”

  Well, that was music to Merridack’s ears. Like showing a starving glutton an All-You-Can-Eat buffet in a 24-hour establishment.

  “Deal,” he said, and threw a leather purse through the air.

  It hurt him to part with that much money, but another good thing about wartime was pillage and theft allowed for quick replenishment of his entertainment slush fund.

  Waraq caught it handily – when money was involved, she never let it slip her grasp – and counted out t
he coins before she jerked her head towards the farthest cart. “She’s over there.”

  “She better be worth it,” Merridack warned, “or I’ll take my refund out of your hide.”

  “You’ll love her,” Waraq grinned. “Or your money back.”

  Merridack rode over and tethered his horse to the back of the cart. Then he dismounted and climbed up into the cart, brushing aside silk tapestries.

  “Helloooo, little lady,” he cooed as his eyes adjusted to the dark. “Are you ready for some fun and games?”

  A figure rested on the plush pile of pillows that lined the cart bed, though she was huddled under a pile of bed sheets that covered her from toe to crown. Merridack couldn’t see a damned thing.

  “Please, sir,” a squeaky little voice said from underneath the sheets, “I’m scared.”

  “Don’t be scared – Merridack is about to initiate you into pleasures untold!” he said as he crawled forward on all fours.

  “Please… I’ve never done this before…”

  “Don’t worry, you’re going to have lots of practice by the time we get finished,” Merridack said as he crawled up on top of her.

  Suddenly her knees came up and clamped him on both sides of his body – although she still remained completely hidden beneath the sheet.

  “Oh, you’re frisky!” Merridack said with delight, although there was something very strange about her legs. They felt quite bulky and hard as they pinned him between her thighs.

  Suddenly she threw her body weight to the right, and Merridack was slammed to the side of the cart as she rolled over on top of him.

  Except ‘she’ was a he.

  A fellow in silver armor was sitting on top of him, his razor-sharp sword clamped right under Merridack’s chin.

  A very familiar-looking fellow.

  “YOU!” Merridack raged, then stopped speaking because the sword bit into his throat whenever he made a sound.

  “Hey, Merridack,” Daniel said in his normal voice. “Good to see you again.”

  94

  Merridack sat there in the wagon and listened to Daniel’s proposition. It was the polite thing to do, considering their long and storied history together.

  That and the fact that the bugger had a sword tip at his throat.

  “Let me get this straight,” Merridack said. “That little asshole who killed me – ”

  “And brought you back to life,” Daniel interrupted.

  “And constantly threatened to kill me again,” Merridack snarled. “Now that same little shit is powerless, and Cythera’s inflicting unimaginable tortures on his misbegotten hide. But… if I sneak him out and get him back to you alive, you’ll pay me ten thousand pieces of gold.”

  “Yes.”

  Merridack looked up at the roof of the wagon as though considering. “On the one hand, I consider what he’s undergoing to be a particularly poetic form of justice. On the other hand… ten thousand gold. Plus I hate every son of a bitch in this army. And I hate the bitch who’s torturing him, too. Speaking of bitches, how’d you get Waraq to betray me?”

  “Fifty pieces of gold.”

  “Greedy whore,” Merridack muttered, then said, “Not that I don’t appreciate the irony of me saying that, mind you. She is greedy, but, hell, I can respect that.”

  “I also promised her that if you said ‘no,’ you’d go free.”

  “What if I ‘go free’ straight to Korvos and get you captured or killed?”

  “Part of the agreement with Waraq is the, um, ‘ladies’ are falling farther and farther behind the army. I’m going to call my griffin down, jump on it, and I’ll be gone in ten seconds… along with all that gold.”

  Merridack licked his lips. “That would be a pity.”

  “It would indeed,” Daniel agreed.

  “You do realize this is a complete suicide mission?”

  “Which is why it’s worth ten thousand gold.”

  “I really think it’s worth at least twenty.”

  “Ten’s all I got, so it’s either that or nothing.”

  “I’m also going to need transport out of here,” Merridack said.

  “Fine. As long as you don’t try anything funny, I’ll get you out of here… and you’ll walk away a rich man.”

  Merridack sat there thinking.

  “Alright,” he said, “I’ll do it. But we haven’t even joined up with Cythera’s army yet.”

  “You will in the next 24 hours.”

  Merridack looked startled. “How do you know that?”

  “I’ve got a friend. She knows these things.”

  “A sorceress?”

  “Something like that.”

  “I don’t trust sorcerers.”

  “She’s a good sorceress.”

  “Right. How am I supposed to let you know where to meet us?”

  “She’ll let me know.”

  “This whole thing depends on some omniscient witch I’ve never met?” Merridack snarled. “How do I know she’ll come through?”

  “She knew where to find you.”

  “Why doesn’t your friend get him out, then?”

  “She’s not that kind of a friend.”

  “But I am,” Merridack smirked.

  “I guess you’re that kind of paid friend.”

  “The ladies here get paid for it. Don’t knock getting paid.”

  “If you say so.”

  “All right – I’ll deliver him to you as soon as I can. And your ‘friend’ will know where I am and keep you in the loop?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m betting a lot on this ‘friend’ of yours,” Merridack snapped.

  “Ten thousand gold.”

  “And my life.”

  “I’ll be there to pick you up,” Daniel promised.

  “So, what, now you’re going to summon your precious little birdie – ”

  The griffin soared right down behind the wagon and skidded to a stop behind them.

  “Yup,” Daniel said, and jumped out the back with his sword still held out. “Talk to you soon.”

  As Daniel leapt onto the bird and it took off into the sky, Merridack poked out his head and looked around.

  The prostitutes’ caravan was indeed a full mile behind the army now. Someone must have seen the griffin, but the ladies would cover for him, he was sure. If someone asked, they could say it was some adventurer taking a bit of pleasure between quests.

  “This might just work,” Merridack muttered as he watched the griffin climb into the sky and disappear into the clouds.

  95

  Daniel’s sorceress was right: Korvos’ and Cythera’s armies met each other early the next evening. They were both beginning the climb through the mountains surrounding Morrill when their scouts encountered each other.

  As soon as he found out, Korvos summoned Merridack. Accompanied by a group of skullheads, the two of them rode through the ranks of Cythera’s army.

  Merridack found the short trip unsettling. Cythera’s foot soldiers were a disgusting menagerie of rotting corpses, burnt bodies, and orcs. Everywhere he looked was another atrocity. When an orc was the prettiest thing on display, that was a problem. And the smell… ye gods. Like a mass grave left unburied for weeks.

  Merridack was used to the underbelly of society and the dirt and grime that came with it. But at least all his associates had been alive – and once they died, they had the courtesy to stay dead.

  Their horses approached the inner circle of tents at the heart of the army. Korvos and Merridack dismounted and were shown to a grandiose tent decorated with opulent furnishings.

  “Korvos… Merridack,” Cythera purred as they entered the tent. She was lying on a chaise longue and eating daintily from a platter of fruits.

  “Milady,” Korvos nodded.

  “It’s ‘your grace’ now,” she said coolly. “I am the Sorceress Queen, in case you haven’t heard.”

  “Congrats on the promotion,” Merridack said jauntily, though he didn’t feel it. He l
ooked around the tent. “So, where is the little shit? Did you burn him at the stake, or did you make him into one of those rotting sad sacks out there you call your army?”

  “No, I keep him around as an amusement,” she smirked. “Come, I’ll show you.”

  She led them out of her tent to another one further away. A ring of rotting soldiers kept watch outside.

  When they walked in, Cythera lit a spell light – and revealed a truly horrible sight.

  Eric was hung upside down, nailed to a wooden X made of beams of wood. His hands and bare feet were caked in dried blood. His face was streaked with red, and his black shirt had been ripped to shreds – although there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with his body.

  The sight shook Merridack – not necessarily out of mercy for Eric, but because of how difficult it was going to be to get him out.

  He couldn’t let on, though, so he just chuckled as he knelt down beside Eric. “How the mighty have fallen.”

  “Oh… it’s you,” Eric muttered. “You going to take a whack at me, too?”

  “You’re welcome to,” Cythera said with a smile. “Every so often I come in and work out a bit of anger on him.”

  “What is the point of this?” Korvos asked.

  “The point of what?”

  “Of keeping him like this.”

  “The point is to make him suffer,” Cythera snapped.

  “Why? Kill him and be done with it.”

  “He can’t die, or don’t you remember?”

  “Is that how he’s still alive?” Merridack asked. “He looks a bloody mess, yet there’s not a scratch on his body.”

  “Oh, that. Watch,” Cythera said, and hissed, “Naxat abraminok!”

  “No – ” Eric groaned weakly, but he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

  Suddenly his ribs cracked outwards and tentacles tore through his skin. Eric screamed as the tentacles writhed over him, and blood spilled down his neck and face in cascades.

  Merridack stumbled backwards in terror. He’d seen this done several times by the little bastard himself, but always at a far distance. This close up, it was grotesque and horrifying in the extreme.