Infinite Assassins: Daggerland Online Novel 2 A LITRPG Adventure

by Peter Meredith

  “You are in big trouble, mister. Big, big trouble. You’ve had the bad luck to come against Ellie the Raven, and that means it’s time for you to die.”

  “How old are you? Are you even fifteen?”

  She shrugged. “Does it matter? I’m here to kill you.” Ellie the Raven did not bother with pretense beyond this. A quick murmured word and from her hand branches of white lightning lit up the night, arcing right at Roan. He tried to dive out of the way, however his reflex saving throw could not overcome Ellie the Raven’s ability and the lightning swept over him, crackling and lifting his hair, but not hurting him.

  There was a moment where both paused, not quite sure what had happened. Bewildered, Roan attacked, sweeping up the Doom blade, but was unable to use it like he would against another opponent. She was just a child. He pulled the thrust so that if he had hit, his strength bonus wouldn’t have counted. But he missed.

  Ellie the Raven was not limited by a conscience or any sense of right and wrong, it seemed. More magic, this time a green haze of fog, billowed out from her hand. Again, Roan tried to dodge and again he failed…and again the magic seemed to have zero effect on him.

  “What the hell?” she cried.

  Roan realized something weird was happening and he chalked it up to intervention by the game. About time, he thought, as he attacked once more, half-heartedly slashing her for a measly six points of damage.

  The blood spilling down her robes brought a frown to her face, making Roan guess that she was playing the game on easy or medium, which eased his conscience slightly as he brought the sword around again. Before he struck, more magic poured from her hands. He didn’t bother to dodge this time and after it swept over him, he stuck her with the sword, this time putting more of his force into it.

  “That’s how you’re doing it,” she hissed, pointing at the ring on his hand. “Well, even a Ring of Shielding won’t save you.”

  It seemed that a Ring of Shielding blocked spells and yet Ellie the Raven, an obvious wizard, didn’t break off her attack. She brought forth more magic, this time conjuring a spider the size of a Shetland pony which launched itself at Roan. He slashed its black hide as he fell away, the Doom blade opening a terrible wound on the summoned creature, but not killing it as easily as it had the wolves.

  The spider shot out a thick strand of webbing that resembled a whip. When it struck Roan’s left arm, it glued onto him and immediately four of its legs began hauling Roan in towards its awful beak-like mouth.

  Roan hacked away one of its legs, but it wasn’t enough to stop the spider from pulling him in. When it bit Roan, the acid in its fangs burned(Damage -9HP). The pain was maddening and drove him into a frenzy. He slashed with the Doom blade over and over until the spider fell away.

  Gasping, Roan turned to Ellie the Raven. She had not been idle during his fight with the spider. His ring blocked spells centered on himself, not on her and now her pale skin was covered in fluid steel, while surrounding her was a circle of roaring fire that he would have to penetrate if he wanted to get to her. And when he did, he would have to face a conjured sword that seemed to be made from eerie green gas.

  “Crap,” he whispered.

  It made her laugh. “Never mess with a tenth level wizard. It won’t end well for you.”

  “Tenth level? Impressive. I got to eighth level as a wizard once. It was pretty cool having that much power in your hands.” As he spoke, Roan was moving to his left to cover the fact that he was digging for a potion. He was hoping to pull the Potion of Dragon Breath, instead he got a Potion of Healing. He slugged it back(Heal +9HP).

  When he reached for another. She laughed cruelly. “You’re going to need a lot of those. Every time you try to attack, the fire will get you for ten hit points. And when you get through…” She punched her own metal face with a metal fist. “This will absorb the first ten points of damage. And then there’s Crunie’s Sword spell. I hope you like the taste of poison and the feel of acid.”

  “Actually, I don’t,” Roan said, hoping that she would go on monologuing. He had too many pouches and too many potions. When he finally found the Potion of Dragon Breath, he could only hope that it was as powerful as it sounded because if it wasn’t, he was going to be in serious trouble.

  Chapter 24

  K Street Territory

  Ellie the Raven was advancing on him when he finally found the potion. He put it to his lips and immediately regretted the decision. It felt like hips were blistering with the heat and yet, he couldn’t pull the potion away. It poured of its own accord not down into his stomach but into his lungs.

  Once inside of him, there was no holding it back. A geyser of flame and plasma shot out of him, engulfing the wizard with such heat and force that for a moment the flames surrounding her looked as though they had disappeared. The night turned blinding, but only for a few seconds and then the light and heat faded.

  Ellie’s legs had buckled and her robe was smoldering. She wasn’t dead, though she looked more than halfway there. Still, her magical protections were up and her spell-created sword was in her hand. And there was no telling what other tricks she had up her sleeve.

  In a fair fight, the teenage girl would kill him. Roan reached for his last potion of flying, realizing he had made a mistake earlier by attempting to be chivalrous and fair. The truth was that he was going to have to throw the idea of fairness out the window if he wanted to live.

  That thought triggered another and instead of using the potion to fly away, he sheathed his sword and launched himself at her. Slamming into her(Damage -10HP) the flames surrounding her coated him, burning his hands, arms, and face. A scream of pain ripped out of him as he shot off the roof like a cannonball with her in his arms.

  The pain was so intense that he could only hold her for a few seconds. When he released her, it was her turn to scream as she hurtled like a comet plunging to earth. When she hit the cobblestone a hundred yards away, the flames that had surrounded her went out(XP +2000).

  Roan flew down to land beside her and had to fight against a feeling of shame at having killed such a young person. Evil people did not feel shame over the slaying of their enemies, they exalted in it. He didn’t have the energy for exalting. The crowd of thugs and adventurers were not far away and he only had a few seconds to strip the girl of her possessions.

  Once more shame entered his consciousness. He took her rings, a pendant, two wheels of gold, two hundred in gold coins and a silk bag that shocked him with its depth.

  “A Dimension Bag!” he cried, no longer feeling shame. He stowed it in his pack just as the crowd closed in. He “ran,” using his temporary flying ability to give the illusion that he was running when he was actually conserving his energy. Pretending to tire, he kept just ahead of the mob as he made his way to the textile mill. The second he ran through the one open door, he shot into the air to hide in the darker shadows near the lofty ceiling of the mill, where he was able to watch dozens of men and women creep inside.

  It didn’t take long for the first of the thugs to reach one of the tripwires he had set up. Roan was ready to enjoy the spectacle of a building-sized bonfire, only he didn’t count on the thugs being more than thugs. Although most were low level nobodies, some were higher level.

  The simple traps were discovered in minutes. Perhaps worse, a few adventurers entered the mill and began organizing a thorough search and more than one bullseye lantern was trained toward the ceiling. Roan had little choice but to pull out the Inferno wand.

  It pulsed in his hand and he assumed that was good. He guessed that it meant that it had a number of charges still in it. Now all he had to do was get it to work. This had been simple back when he had played a wizard. He had needed only to concentrate and point the wand in a bit of a “flicky” action.

  Roan concentrated on the fire inside the wand and then “flicked.” Nothing happened, so he concentrated even harder and gave a more violent flick. Still nothing.

  “Go!” he hissed, poi
nting the wand. “Crap.” The wand pulsed but was otherwise inert. He knew the problem: wands were made specifically for wizards and only a thief with a high enough Use Magic Items skill score could hope to set it off prop…

  As this thought was still unfolding itself, the tip of the wand exploded in fire, and he narrowly avoided getting his face burnt off. Just like an Inferno spell, the fire that shot from the wand started small, about the size of basketball. By the time it hit the ceiling, thirty feet away, it had grown to the size of a car. When it exploded, it lit up the entire mill.

  The fire from the Inferno was short lived and the ceiling was only scorched. The next ball of fire that shot from the wand did a lot more damage. Roan was still stunned from the first explosion and luckily had the wand pointed away when it belched forth. As a hundred faces stared up, the flaming ball flew across the length of the mill to strike racks that were filled with bolts of cloth. These went right up as if they had been soaked in gasoline.

  After that second fire ball, Roan knew better than to point the wand anywhere near himself. He held it stiffly towards the single unblocked door. Seconds later, the final Inferno spell came out, striking the floor in front of the door and catching three men in its blast area(XP +75).

  Perhaps because the spells had been shot in such an erratic and imprecise manner, the hundred or so people trapped in the building didn’t panic right away. Those with bows sent arrows zipping his way, while the few wizards among them attacked him with spells. The arrows all missed, however the spells did not which was something of a surprise. A round of magical bolts fizzled around him, however a fork of lightning (Damage -22HP) nearly sent him plummeting.

  Groaning, he flew to hide behind one of the cranes that went nearly to the ceiling. There he sucked down healing potions until his hands stopped shaking. He only had two left and fervently hoped that they would be enough. As much as he wanted to zip up one of the vents, the fires were being stubborn and hadn’t spread far at all.

  To get them moving he flew towards the one rack that was burning, grabbed a bolt of cloth that was partially on fire and threw it down towards one of the overflowing bins. In seconds the flames from this were two stories tall—and still there wasn’t any panic.

  It was only when Roan sent another flaming length of cloth at another bin that the thugs decided that things had gone too far. When one broke for one of the exits it brought around the panic that Roan had expected, leaving him free to make sure the fire was totally out of control.

  The thugs quickly found out that the doors were too thick and strong to be bashed down using only their shoulders. Some tried to pick the locks but were stymied by the double locks. Now there came screaming, but it was too late. Roan had set fires at every exit as well as at the base of the two ventilation shafts.

  He flew up one to where its fan sat turning on its own because of the violent gusts from the fires. He crawled through it and nearly choked on the smoke pouring up. Taking a deep breath, he flew up the shaft in a black cloud until he reached the cool night air.

  A moment later, a wizard flew up after him. He was coughing and half blind and didn’t see Roan until it was too late. Roan nearly took his head off with the Doom blade(XP +450). Another wizard came up and saw the first falling and Roan looking like a demon holding his Doom blade. The wizard zipped off, wanting no part of the bounty any more.

  Roan waited at the shaft, ready to kill the next being that came up. None did. Only torrents of smoke came from the vent. It billowed into the night, stinking of something horrible and evil.

  2—

  Roan floated over the building, apparently watching it burn. In truth he was feverishly counting as words bloomed into his vision like neon popcorn: (XP +25), (XP +25), (XP +25)…he counted these until he hit twenty-five. After that he just marveled and picked out the higher experience point numbers usually with a grunt of satisfaction.

  When the last of the numbers rang up, he’d accumulated over three thousand five hundred, which got him to the next level. Congratulations! You are now a Level Seven Rogue and have gained the following bonuses:

  Increased Hit Points(+8)

  Attack +1

  Sneak Attack X4 Damage

  You have 11 skill points to allocate

  He had to resist the urge to check his character sheet or to start assigning skill points. Below him on the street were more adventurers. If there were wizards among them… “Oh crap!” A flaming sphere was shooting up at him. Immediately, he thought himself higher, flying as fast as he could.

  Looking back, he saw the Inferno spell catching up. The only question was would it? It reminded him of an elementary school math problem: If Roan is traveling at a rate of forty miles an hour and a fireball that’s been launched at him at fifty miles an hour with a range of a hundred yards are on the same course…

  The short answer to a complicated question was: no, it wouldn’t reach him. But it was close. At the edge of its range, the Inferno spell erupted high over the city. The heat from it washed over Roan in a strange and comforting way. It meant that he had escaped.

  Roan flew through the night sky finally enjoying the sensation. He banked through low hanging clouds and whispered across roof tops and for once the stink of the city didn’t bother him. His one regret was that Amanda wasn’t there with him.

  Thinking about her brought him back to reality…or rather this fake reality. Dropping down to the top of some unknown building he took a minute to figure out where he was and what he should be doing.

  Obviously he had to check in with Tarranon so he could rescue Cricket, but he had hours before he needed to do that. In the meantime, his Daggerland body was exhausted and needed a rest, but he needed to get back to his real body to exercise it. Then there was his compulsion to check up on Amanda to make sure she was okay. Finally, he was hungry for information concerning the assassins stalking him.

  “Speaking of hunger,” he said. “When was the last time I ate in either world?” He vaguely remembered buying chips but when that was, he didn’t know.

  From the rooftop, he spied a thief below him trying to jimmy the lock on some alley door. Roan floated over to him. “Excuse me?” The thief let out a scream, jerked a dagger from his belt and then went in little circles, trying to find Roan. “I’m up here.”

  The thief cringed as if Roan was about to stomp on him. “W-what do you want?”

  “I just wanted to know where we are. Whose territory is this?”

  The question seemed to confuse the thief. He squinted up at Roan, his lips twisting into a grimace. Roan was covered in soot, ash and the blood of wolves, spiders, snakes and humans.

  “I’m a Shadow Cat and this is Shadow Cat territory. You should get out of here before someone cuts you.”

  Roan stared at the thief without really seeing him. He was in Shadow Cat territory; Cricket’s mom was also supposedly in Shadow Cat territory. Was this just a happy accident? Or was there more at play here? He took a second to glance over his shoulder, just in case. The two were alone. “Do you know a place called Hansen’s?”

  “I know Hansen the Heretic,” the thief answered, guardedly. “He owns a brothel three blocks down. Why? You want a girl? I know a place that’s better. The babes there are off the hook.”

  Off the hook? Was this guy a real person? Roan shook off the question. It didn’t matter. “Three blocks in what direction?” When the thief started to hem and haw, Roan put his hand on the hilt of his Doom blade. This prompted the thief to point south.

  Roan shot away. He had at least twenty minutes of flight time left and he wasn’t going to waste it. Then again, he wasn’t going to fly right up to Hansen’s front doors and ask politely for Cricket’s mom. There was no way Roan could trust Rollup. With such a huge bounty on his head, this was the perfect time to set up an ambush.

  The chances were great that Hansen the Heretic was also Hansen the Assassin, or at least Hansen the Gangster with a building full of goons. Roan circled the area where the
thief had directed him and found Hansen’s brothel. It wasn’t hard since the Heretic had a garishly painted, thirty-foot tall devil’s head as a marquis on his building.

  From a hundred feet up, Roan slowly circled the building, noting the prostitutes and the way they seemed nervous, and the fact that a greasy-looking goon came out of the front doors every few minutes to look around.

  If they were expecting Roan, they had to be expecting a boatload of trouble. He had wreaked havoc among the K Street Killers, so it would be a good guess that there were a few heavy hitters in the brothel. He couldn’t just storm in there with his sword swinging and nor could he use fire as he had before.

  This left him what? Acting the part of a rogue to go against other rogues? That was a gamble in itself. If anyone could outwit him, it would be another rogue. Another rogue would guess that Roan would want to stake the building out, so every window with a view would be watched. As well, the sewers would be filled with poisonous snakes, the gutters slicked with oil, and the back door would be booby-trapped.

  “It’s not worth it,” Roan concluded, shooting away. He had flown half a mile when a thought struck him. “They don’t want me flying away. How can they collect the bounty if I don’t show up? So, does that mean the back door isn’t booby-trapped?”

  Wearily, Roan set down on the closest building and dangled his feet over the edge. He had gone through so much in the last few days that he was having trouble piecing things together. The only thing that made sense was that he missed Amanda. He clocked back into the Brooklynn motel in time to hear a siren blaring.

  In his paranoid state of mind, he thought the urgent wailing had to do with him. The Glock was in his hand and pointed at the dim door, then at the window with its drawn curtains and finally at the bathroom. His body was a tense spring that only slowly unwound.

  When he was sure he was alone, he called Amanda, but she didn’t pick up. He then checked his messages, but at four in the morning with most of the country still sleeping soundly, no one was leaving messages.