Shattered Lands 3 Demon Wars: A LitRPG Series

by Darren Pillsbury

  The barbarians stared at him. “But… we feast and drink and rut like beasts before battle!”

  “Not tonight. Go to bed. NOW.”

  “This is tradition!” the barbarian roared.

  “You wanna fight the Undying One? Right here, right now?” Drogar challenged him.

  The barbarian was taken aback. “…no…”

  “THEN GO TO BED.”

  The barbarians all stomped down the mountain, grumbling as they went.

  “We’re not going to make it to the battle at this rate,” Vlisil muttered.

  “Ah, we’ll make it,” Drogar replied. “It’s too bad we’re not going to be back with the whole gang, though.”

  “Daniel and Mira will be there out on the field… somewhere.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not the same if we’re not all fighting together,” Drogar said morosely. “And Lotan didn’t make it.”

  “Who said I didn’t make it?” a nasally voice spoke up behind them.

  Vlisil and Drogar both whirled around at the same time.

  A lanky, fish-headed figure was perched above them on the slope.

  “DOOT!” Drogar hooted happily.

  “Lotan!” Vlisil cried out. “Where’d you come from?!”

  “Your guys’ guards suck,” the fish-man said as he came down for a bro-hug from the other two. “Seriously, the barbarians are all drunk, and the goblins are so pissed off at the barbarians that they all left their posts.”

  “It’s, like, a thing they do before they go into bahttle,” Drogar said, almost sounding like he was apologizing.

  “Are you alone?” Vlisil asked Lotan.

  “Nope – I got a whole army with me.”

  Vlisil looked out at the surrounding mountains and valleys. “Where?!”

  Lotan pointed down at the bottom of the valley. “There.”

  A large river ran through the greenery.

  “…in the river?” Vlisil asked.

  “Hey – it’s a body of water, isn’t it?”

  Vlisil laughed. “I guess it is.”

  “Is it a bunch of fish-doots?” Drogar asked.

  “Droths. Yes.”

  Vlisil squinted. “Where are they?”

  “They’re spending the night on the river bottom. I wanted to make sure we didn’t freak anybody out by suddenly showing up in the middle of the night.”

  “Smart. How many?”

  “About 5000.”

  “Five thousand?!”

  “Yup.”

  “Wow… that’s impressive…”

  “I’m not sure it’s going to help much,” Lotan said in a depressed voice as he stared out at the thousand bonfires in the enemy camp. “Not against that.”

  “They’re saying something happened to Eric,” Vlisil said. “That he up and left.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Well, he up and left before they freakin’ crucified him.”

  “What’d they do?”

  “No – they literally crucified him. Nailed him to a giant wooden X.”

  “Holy shit,” Lotan whispered.

  “Yeah.”

  “Any word on the AI?”

  “Nope.”

  “Greeeeaaaat,” Lotan muttered.

  “At least we’ve got one thing going for us,” Vlisil said.

  “What’s that?”

  “We can’t die.”

  “Yeah… just a thous-ant different ways to suffer horribly,” Drogar joked.

  “That wasn’t funny,” Vlisil said.

  “Ah… it’s only a game,” Lotan said.

  “I used to know a guy who said that,” Vlisil answered. “He was a real asshole.”

  They all chuckled.

  “And yet he did do one thing right,” Lotan pointed out.

  “What’s that?”

  “He gave us one hell of an adventure.”

  “Amen,” Vlisil agreed.

  “Still an ahss-hole,” Drogar said, and they all laughed again – then stared out uneasily at the ocean of bodies surrounding those thousand campfires.

  106

  Korvos

  On the eve of battle, Korvos stood in the camp shared by his and Cythera’s armies and looked out across the mountain ranges at the gates of Morrill. At such a distance, they were merely a pinprick in the side of the mountain.

  But the tens of thousands of soldiers massed on the plains outside were not a pinprick. They were a veritable ocean.

  Cythera walked up next to him. “Thinking about our glorious victory tomorrow?”

  “I am concerned that the boy is gone.”

  Cythera’s smile turned to a grimace. “It was your men who let him escape.”

  “It was two of my men who were killed and provided the artifice by which they escaped. But it was thousands of your mindless corpses who let them pass.”

  “There’s no need to worry – he’s an empty shell now,” she said dismissively. “All of his power was stripped and given to me. He’s impotent… as good as dead.”

  “I am also disturbed that the Unnamed One has not replied to my entreaties to appear.”

  “Again, we are in good hands,” she said, growing more agitated. “He gave all of Eric’s power to me.”

  “I still would prefer to know why the Unnamed One does not appear to us.”

  “Are you always so dour on the night before battle?”

  “Only when my primary ally is nowhere to be found.

  “I am your primary ally now, Korvos,” she seethed. “It would behoove you not to forget that.”

  His glowing, yellow eyes looked at her from the pitch-black depths of his horned helmet – and then he nodded the slightest bit. “Of course. You are the Sorcerer Queen.”

  Smug satisfaction came back to her expression. “And the Sorcerer Queen predicts a complete rout of the enemy.”

  “Let us hope you are right.”

  Korvos turned and walked through the camp back to his own tents – but not to rest.

  He stopped in the battle tent that housed the plans of his fellow generals Hastus, Mril, and Dagoth. Only Hastus was there, still poring over a map of the territory, with markers for their armies and those of the enemy.

  “Hastus,” Korvos said. “I assign my legions to you and your fellow generals.”

  Hastus was shocked. “You will not be in battle on the morn?”

  “I am called away by the Unnamed One himself,” Korvos lied. “It is a matter of great import, even more crucial a mission than the battle tomorrow.”

  At least that part was not a lie.

  Hastus bowed his head the slightest. “As the Dark One wishes.”

  “Do not speak of my mission to the witch. She has grown too full of herself, and will doubtless seethe with jealousy to know that the Unnamed One has summoned me, not her. If she asks for me, tell her I am in the rear guard.”

  “As you wish.”

  “May the might of Hell prevail,” Korvos said.

  “Evermore and for eternity,” the other general said in return.

  Korvos exited his tent and found his horse. After ordering a foot soldier to saddle it for him, he climbed up on the diseased and rotting creature and rode out of camp.

  He headed northeast, for the icy wastelands of Gur… far away from the slaughter that would take place at dawn.

  107

  Daniel

  Dawn crept up over the ridges of the mountains, and with it the beginning of the end of the world.

  Daniel was staring out at the distant armies on the plains when a knock came at the door.

  Eric looked up from his chair. He hadn’t moved all night.

  Siffis raised his head up, too, from where he was sleeping in the corner.

  Daniel opened the door to find Jorok – and behind him, Mira.

  “Hey!” Daniel said, taken aback.

  “May we come in?” she asked.

  “Sure, sure,” he said, ushering both the dwarf and the dark elf inside.

  Eric stood nervo
usly as soon as he saw her. “Mira.”

  “I heard they got you back,” she said. Her tone was neutral – not friendly, exactly, but without sarcasm or bitterness.

  “Lot of good it did them,” Eric smiled ruefully. “I don’t have any of my powers.”

  “And he’s trapped here in the…” Daniel was about to say ‘game,’ but he glanced down at Jorok and caught himself in time. “…Shattered Lands.”

  “What?!”

  They filled her in briefly, but used ‘the Unnamed One’ rather than ‘the AI.’ They also covered the operation in Japan and what had been implanted in Eric’s skull.

  At the end of the explanation, Mira’s expression was one of sheer horror. “I’m sorry, Eric… that sounds horrible…”

  Eric nodded. He didn’t have anything to say.

  “Are the elves going to fight with us?” Daniel asked.

  Mira gestured with her head. “Come look.”

  They walked out onto the carved stone balcony, and she pointed due east. In the rosy light blooming over the edges of the mountains, thousands of tiny sparks could be seen.

  Torches.

  “They’ve marched pretty much non-stop to get here.”

  “How many?”

  “Ten thousand or so. About half and half of dark elves and forest elves.”

  “How’d you convince them?!”

  “I didn’t. Ladriel and Ebnsed did. In the end it came down to them realizing that with every person who died on the battlefield, that was one more soldier for Eric’s…” Mira glanced at Eric. “…uh, for the enemy. The forest elves were particularly angry that a bunch of their own had been drafted against their will.”

  “As corpses,” Daniel pointed out.

  “Didn’t matter. Whether they’re alive or dead, it’s always easy to offend a forest elf.” Mira’s smile faded. “So… where’s Jennifer?”

  “Upstairs in the other room, I guess,” Daniel said.

  “You haven’t seen her?” Mira said coolly.

  “I’ve had slightly more important things to do,” Daniel said with irritation in his voice.

  “She hasn’t logged on,” Jorok volunteered.

  Everyone else in the room stared at him.

  “That is the word you use for when one of you awakens in this world, correct?” Jorok asked. “I’ve heard you use it several times.”

  “Uh… yeah,” Daniel said, trying to stifle a smile. “Yeah, that’s the term we use for awakening here.”

  “Well, she is still asleep with her eyes wide open.”

  “Makes sense,” Mira said. “It’s a school night.”

  “Is it a school for gods?” Jorok asked.

  “Uhhh… no.” She looked at Eric and Daniel. “Well, I need to be getting back… I’m leading the main charge for the elves.”

  Daniel looked into her eyes. “…good luck.”

  She gazed back at him. “…thanks.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence until Mira ended it. “Well, I better…”

  “Mira, before you go…” Eric said.

  She looked over at him, almost relieved to have something else to concentrate on besides Daniel. “Yes?”

  “I wanted to say I’m sorry… for everything I did to you inside the game.”

  She half-smiled. “Apology accepted. Besides, it was just a game, right?”

  “I’m not so sure about that anymore.”

  The room was quiet for a second, until Jorok asked, “What game?”

  Mira, Eric, and Daniel burst out laughing.

  “It’s a long story,” Daniel said.

  “I should be getting out to the gates as well,” Jorok said, “but I have something I wanted to give you.”

  The dwarf detached a scabbard from his side and held it out to Daniel, who unsheathed the sword and looked at it in awe. It was a beautiful piece of dwarf craftsmanship – not as flashy as the sword he had stolen from Lord Naughton and then returned to Jorok, but perhaps even deadlier. The stats on the weapon rivaled those of the sword before.

  “I felt a warrior should have a weapon truly befitting him,” Jorok said.

  “Thank you,” Daniel said quietly. “I’ll use it well.”

  “Will you go with me to the front lines?”

  Daniel shook his head. “I have to stay here with Eric. He’s powerless.”

  “I have a request to make, then.”

  “What’s that?”

  “If they should get inside Morrill, kill as many as you can.”

  Daniel nodded. “I will.”

  “Your griffin is housed within the mountain, should you decide you need to escape.”

  Daniel looked at Eric. “One last chance.”

  Eric shook his head. “At this point it’s either victory, or we go down with the ship.”

  Daniel looked back at Jorok. “Victory, or we go down with the ship.”

  “Alright,” the dwarf said. “May the gods be at your side.”

  “You, too,” Daniel said, and held out his hand.

  The dwarf shook his hand, then turned to go.

  Mira said, “Good luck. To both of you.”

  “You too,” Daniel and Eric both said at the same time.

  Mira looked at Daniel for a long moment. It was obvious the two of them wanted to say more… but neither did.

  She smiled faintly, and then followed Jorok out of the room.

  “Well, I can see one thing hasn’t changed from the real world,” Eric said.

  “What’s that?”

  “You still have no idea how to handle women.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “She wanted you to kiss her! It was obvious!”

  “No she didn’t – ”

  “Dude, have you never seen a movie before? Come on.”

  They continued to argue until they heard the first blasts of the horns of war, and scrambled over to the balcony window.

  108

  Cythera

  Cythera had her attendants dress her in armor that had been crafted specifically for her: sleek and feminine, with a crested helmet and visor. Then she walked out of her tent and looked out at her tens of thousands of soldiers. She could feel the black magic tying all of them to her, could feel the invisible strings of darkness binding their reanimated bodies to hers. An army of dead, all of them willing to die for her interminably, over and over again

  The orcs and the Hell Army, on the other hand, were their own beasts – not exactly under her control, and snapping at the end of their respective chains.

  Once she had used them to conquer the Shattered Lands, she would destroy the orcs and Hell’s legions. By then her army would number in the millions, and no one would be able to withstand her.

  The generals Hastus, Mril, and Dagoth rode up next to her on their rotting steeds.

  “Where is Korvos?” she asked imperiously.

  “He is at the rearguard to defend against the goblins and Hurokians,” Hastus informed her.

  “An appropriate place,” she sneered. “Goblins and savages are best suited for him.”

  “Whatever speeds our victory,” Hastus said testily.

  “Mm. Wait here… I have something I wish to say to the dwarves in Morrill.”

  She walked through the ranks of her soldiers until she reached the dragon. Other than the immense power she had inherited, it was her favorite ‘gift’ from her accursed former lover. After he had lost his power, the demon that inhabited the dragon had departed, leaving it once again a lifeless, rotting hulk. She could have repossessed it with a new specter – but instead she had raised it back from the dead with necromancy. Now it was hers and hers alone, with no demon to rely on.

  Just as she no longer had any treacherous filth to depend on, either.

  Anger rose up in her, and she thought back with satisfaction to the few days she had gotten to torture Eric. If she ever caught Merridack – no, when she caught Merridack – she would subject him to ten times worse.

  But for no
w, all she wanted was to get Eric back so she could torture him some more. That would be her prize for the battle ahead.

  Other than another 50,000 troops to add to her ranks, that is.

  The dragon lay its head on the ground. She stepped onto its scaly brow, and it raised her thirty feet in the air.

  This high up, she could see the 5000 dwarven warriors that stood at attention outside the iron gates of Morrill. She was quite sure that they could see her, as well – and then she cast a spell that would insure they would hear her, too.

  “Dwarves of Morrill,” she called out, and her voice boomed supernaturally loud across the plains. “I know that you are aligned with the griffin riders, one of whom stole the Sorcerer King from my grasp. I offer you a compromise: return him to me now, and I will spare you. The stronghold of Morrill shall continue to stand, and every one of you shall live. Defy me, and you all will perish – but not until your wives and children die before you, in ways more horrible than you can possibly imagine. Of course, my offer does not extend to your allies already arrayed against me here on the field of battle… but you can save yourselves. Unfurl a single banner from one of your windows if you agree.”

  Not a single banner appeared.

  “Last chance, little ones,” she hissed.

  Nothing happened in Morrill. Certainly no banners unfolded.

  “So be it. I will take the Sorcerer King from you, and every last dwarf shall die.”

  She raised her hand in the air.

  “ATTACK!”

  109

  Daniel

  Daniel and Eric stood on the balcony, listening to Cythera’s voice echoing through the mountains.

  “How does it feel to have everybody you were going to lead into battle want you dead?” Daniel asked kiddingly.

  “Not as bad as having all your old friends want you dead, too.”

  “Give me a break – I don’t want you dead. Mira doesn’t want you dead.”

  “Ask Drogar, Lotan, and Vlisil.”

  “Eh… I don’t think we could ever really say they were your friends, per se.”

  Eric raised one eyebrow. “Touché.”