Shattered Lands: A LitRPG Series

by Darren Pillsbury

  Durability: 1,000/1,000

  Power contained within: Unknown

  “Holy shit…” Eric whispered.

  “There is nothing ‘holy’ about that thing. Quite the opposite.”

  He stared at the handwritten scrawl on the yellowed, crinkled pages. There were many finely drawn pictures, too: human shapes in spiked armor, but no faces… hideous animals… jumbles of tentacles, appendages, eyes, and mouths.

  But there was only writing for the first five pages or so.

  “What the hell? There’s only a little bit of writing in here,” he snapped.

  ‘Complete tome’ my ass.

  “That is all you can see for the moment,” Cythera explained. “You are not ready for the rest until you master the first.”

  Ah… I have to ‘level up’ first…

  He turned to the last page with writing on it. Sure enough, the ink gradually faded out the further it went down the page, until it completely disappeared.

  “So the more I learn, the more I can access?”

  “Yes.”

  Level up… get more power.

  “Let’s get started, then,” he said greedily.

  25

  Daniel

  The Court of Mercenaries was similar to the Questing Market in that it was filled with hundreds of people shouting out and bartering for money. But other than that, it was completely different.

  For one, the Questing Market sold goods: weapons, armor, supplies.

  As far as Daniel could see, the Court of Mercenaries only sold services – training in particular.

  “Sword training – long sword, short sword, any sword, ten coppers a day!” one husky, bearded human yelled out.

  “Archery! Learn archery right here!” a half-elf called out. “Shoot an arrow through ten ax heads by the end of the day, guaranteed, nine coppers a day for training!”

  Daniel was only guessing that the guy was a halfling. He was taller than regular elves, and he looked less ethereal. Kind of ugly, actually. Also, other elven NPCs seemed far more dignified. Only a half-human, half-elf could be so… loud.

  Despite their short stature, dwarves didn’t have any problem being loud at all. A red-bearded one in a horned Viking hat roared out, “Hammer training! Eight coppers a day to train personally with Glilarn, master of dwarven arms! Special on dwarf-forged hammers as well! Present your certificate at Questing Alley, get ten coppers off the price!”

  A nearby orc, green-skinned and fang-toothed with a greasy topknot of hair, was even louder. “KILL! BASH SKULLS, BREAK BONES, DESTROY ENEMIES!”

  Daniel wasn’t sure if the orc was offering any training, or just espousing his general theory of life.

  The hucksters were entertaining, though Daniel didn’t trust a single one of them. They all had a shifty look to them, like they were trying to sell you high-priced game systems out of the back of a pickup truck.

  He watched the ones actually teaching, too. Most of them were leading huge, impersonal classes and ordering their students to follow a rote set of actions, like thrusting spears into the air at imaginary foes.

  The more expensive teachers had straw-stuffed dummies as part of their classes. Their many students would line up, take a swipe at the dummy – usually clumsily – and then go to the back of the line and wait for another try. Most didn’t seem to be making much improvement.

  Daniel knew he wasn’t qualified to judge the sword or archery classes. However, he’d picked up a thing or two about knife-throwing in the last couple of days, and he could tell that all the teachers sucked. They had their students pinching the blades between their fingers instead of pressing them against their palms. Some teachers even had their students grasping the knives by the handles, which resulted in most of the throws bouncing clumsily off their targets.

  Huh… at least Merridack was good for something…

  But as bad as the teachers were, they had an undiscriminating audience in vast supply. There were thousands of players wandering around the vast courtyard, wide-eyed and enthusiastic – all of them human, all of them dressed in clean clothes, many of them male. Daniel guessed they were noobs who had just logged into the game. They strolled from vendor to vendor, asking questions, picking up weapons and awkwardly trying them out.

  Did I look that clueless to Merridack when I first got here? he wondered.

  The newcomers were entering the courtyard from the city gates, which lay right next to the Court of Mercenaries. The gate itself was essentially a five-story-tall gap in the twenty-story stone wall. A steady stream of noobs came tromping over the wooden drawbridge, past an armed contingent of fifty city guards. At least every other noob stopped to ask a question of the blue-capes; usually all he got was a brusque finger pointed at the courtyard.

  Daniel stood on the periphery of the grassy quad and eyed the Day Watch nervously. He was afraid one of the guards might recognize him from the night before. But no one seemed to notice or care. He was just one more nameless face in a sea of thousands…

  “Get out of the way,” a deep voice snapped.

  Daniel turned around in surprise.

  A dwarf was seated on a leather rucksack, reading the pages of a weathered book. He wore clean but worn clothes, a combination of wool shirt and pants with a fur-lined leather vest. He was old – probably ancient by human standards. His beard was steel grey. Deep crow’s feet crinkled at the edges of his eyes, which glittered behind a pair of tiny spectacles with thin brass arms.

  And he was looking up at Daniel in irritation.

  “What?” Daniel asked, surprised.

  “You make a better door than a window,” the dwarf growled.

  “…huh?”

  “You’re in my light. MOVE.”

  It was true: Daniel’s shadow was falling directly on the dwarf.

  Any rational person would have been happy to have some shade in the blazing sun. But, given the glasses and his age, maybe the dwarf needed a lot of light to see.

  Daniel moved over, expecting some sort of thanks –

  Instead, the dwarf shook his head like he was thoroughly disgusted with ‘today’s youth’ and went back to his book.

  Asshole…

  Suddenly a text box popped up:

  New Quest: Get information from dwarf.

  Challenge Level: Moderate – he’s not talkative and he doesn’t like you.

  Reward: Unknown

  Punishment for Failure: None except the fear of missing out.

  GREAT.

  “Uh, can I ask you a question?” Daniel tried.

  “You just did,” the dwarf growled without looking up.

  “Okay – can I ask you a couple of questions?”

  “A ‘couple’ implies two, so – you already did. Again.”

  Daniel was getting pissed. “How about questions, then, plural, no definite number?”

  “If I say no, are you going to leave me alone?”

  Daniel decided this was getting nowhere, so he just cut to the chase. “Can you tell me anybody who could train me in sword fighting?”

  “Yes,” the dwarf said – still not looking up – and pointed in the direction of the throng of teachers yelling out for pupils. “Walk over there and you’ll find thirty of them.”

  “Yeah, but are any of them any good?”

  “Good at what? They might be able to teach you to pick your ass just fine, but as far as weapons training – no.”

  Wow.

  What an arrogant dick.

  “That’s pretty harsh,” Daniel said. He wanted to add, Especially from an old midget reading a book, but he held his tongue.

  The dwarf finally looked up in irritation. “Answer me this, boy: why would a real mercenary – anyone good at his craft, who could be out questing for gold and glory – spend his time teaching rank beginners for one or two coppers an hour?”

  Okay, that was the first semblance of progress Daniel had made in the entire conversation.

  “Well… what are you doing here, the
n?” Daniel asked.

  “Reading. Or I was, until I was interrupted by some nincompoop,” the dwarf said as he looked back down at his book and traced his finger along the text, trying to find his place.

  “Why are you reading at the Court of Mercenaries?”

  “Because unless you’re squawking at the top of your lungs about how many orcs you killed at the Battle of Hontish, no one cares about you and they all leave you alone.” The dwarf harrumphed. “Usually.”

  “Aren’t there quieter places to read?”

  “Probably. Especially today, since there’s this one particularly annoying ass.”

  Daniel was about to give up on the quest, but he gave it one more try. “Then why not – ”

  The dwarf looked up again and snapped, “Why do you ask so many questions? What does it matter to you?”

  Daniel shrugged. “I’m curious.”

  “I come here because I get no peace at home. I have a shrew of a wife who bleats at me all day to do this, do that. All the yelling and clanging out here? Doesn’t hold a candle to her. However, you’re giving her a run for her money.”

  “You could go to any library and read – or any quiet inn,” Daniel said. “But you don’t. I think you come here because you like it. Maybe you used to be a warrior, and you miss it… even if it’s just to be around a bunch of posers.”

  New skill: Insight

  Points Awarded: +2

  +1 to intelligence and +1 to Persuasion

  You have demonstrated an ability to peer beyond others’ words to see their true motives.

  2% greater chance of determining an NPC’s true motive.

  The dwarf eyed him suspiciously, then went back to his book. “That’s ridiculous.”

  But that terse answer – the briefest the dwarf had given him – corroborated what the text box had said.

  Daniel knew he had struck a nerve.

  “Do you teach?” he asked.

  “Not the likes of you.”

  New Quest: Convince dwarf to train you in sword fighting.

  Challenge Level: Difficult

  Reward: Highest level of sword-fighting training available at Court of Mercenaries.

  Punishment for Failure: Settling for far inferior alternatives

  Daniel paused and considered. The dwarf wasn’t going to be moved by a simple ‘please.’ And he probably wouldn’t respond to logical arguments, either – he was too much of an ornery old geezer for that.

  Suddenly an audacious plan came to him – but it was an all-or-nothing gambit.

  If it succeeded, it would succeed wildly.

  If it failed?

  Crash and burn time, with no second chances.

  Do I risk it?

  He hesitated… then went for it.

  I hope to God those Persuasion and Insight points are good for something.

  “Eh, you’re probably not any better than any of these dumbasses,” Daniel said dismissively as he looked out at the field of mercenaries and noobs.

  Oh… THAT did it.

  The dwarf looked up in a slow-boiling rage. “I’ll have you know, you impertinent vastral, that I am by far the best instructor to set foot on this field in the last hundred years.”

  “So you do teach. How much do you charge?”

  The dwarf – realizing he had been tricked – narrowed his eyes and returned to his book. “If you have to ask, you can’t afford me.”

  “How much?”

  “Not ten coppers a day, I can tell you that much.”

  Daniel pulled out the second gold coin, the one he hadn’t spent at the inn. “Would this do?”

  The dwarf glanced up, was about to look back down, and then did a double take. “Where did you get that?”

  Daniel grinned and threw the dwarf’s own words back in his face. “Why do you ask so many questions? What does it matter to you?”

  The dwarf glowered. “It matters a great deal. I don’t want to be training some vicious little strlax who plans to go around cutting throats and stealing gold coins.”

  Daniel flinched as though the dwarf had tried to hit him. The dwarf’s words certainly hurt more than any slap to the face could have.

  “…I’m actually trying not to be that person,” Daniel said softly.

  The dwarf peered at him silently for a moment, as though he were considering… and then he gestured with his hand. “Give it here.”

  Daniel handed the coin over.

  The dwarf bit it. Satisfied, he pocketed it. “One day of training – until sundown. That’s it.”

  Success! You have convinced the dwarf to train you!

  Persuasion: +2

  Daniel was delighted – until the logistics of the situation caught up with him. “How can you train me when you’re half as tall as I am?”

  “You’re hiring me for my brains, not my brawn,” the dwarf grunted as he got up from the ground.

  Daniel was about to say something when the dwarf put two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. Fweeeet!

  “GORTH!” he shouted loudly.

  About fifty feet away, a seven-foot-tall creature with the head of a bull and the build of a professional wrestler looked over. “Gwarn?”

  “A silver for the day to be the dummy,” the dwarf shouted.

  “Hronk,” the bull-man snorted and came walking over.

  “Meet the brawn,” the dwarf said as he pocketed his spectacles and picked up his leather rucksack.

  New Quest: Survive your training!

  Challenge Level: Moderate

  Reward: Highest level of sword-fighting training available at Court of Mercenaries.

  Punishment for Failure: You’re going to be in pain for days.

  “Oh crap,” Daniel whispered.

  “Never fear. By the end of the day – if you apply yourself, pay attention, and work hard – you’ll be able to best him in battle the majority of the time. I guarantee it,” the dwarf said.

  “Won’t he be able to learn what you’re teaching me, though, and use it against me?” Daniel asked.

  “Ah – quick thinker. Good,” the dwarf said, and Daniel secretly filled with pride. It was the only nice thing the dwarf had said the entire time. “Taurians are known more for their strength than their intellect. If he picks up one tip for every ten of yours, he’ll be doing well.”

  The bull-creature walked up to Daniel and the dwarf.

  “Gorth, this is – uh – ” the dwarf said, gesturing at Daniel.

  “Daniel.”

  “Daniel,” the dwarf said. “Daniel, meet Gorth of the house of Mitros.”

  Daniel put out his hand to shake. The bull creature just looked at him, puzzled, and snorted loudly, mucus flying from his snout.

  Daniel stepped back, then looked at his new teacher. “What’s your name?”

  The old dwarf handed him a wooden sword. “You can call me Simik.”

  26

  Eric

  They stood out in the shadows of the deep forest, Cythera in her hooded cloak, Eric holding the ancient book.

  In the background, the voices continued to whisper, no louder than the sighing of the wind in the trees.

  “There are dangers to demon summoning, as I told you before,” the witch lectured. “Bringing the creature forth requires mana, which depletes your resources momentarily. If upon its appearance you do not bind it with its True Name, the creature will be left to its own devices. The best case scenario is it will leave, making your momentary expenditure of power pointless. At the worst, it may very well turn on you… kill you… perhaps even take you back with it to the hell from which it came.”

  Eric looked at her.

  She smiled darkly. “There are perils to power, my young apprentice. We can turn back any time you wish.”

  It’s only a game… it’s only a freakin’ game…

  “No – no, let’s do this,” he said, gathering up his courage. Then he looked at the hand-scrawled words in the book. “But… I can’t read anything in here. It’s a di
fferent language or something.”

  “Qalarian. The civilization whose tongue it was is long dead.”

  “What happened to them?”

  Cythera gestured with a glance of her eyes. “Probably the book.”

  “Great…” Eric muttered.

  “If you studied a decade or more, you might have a passing knowledge of Qalarian. But the book has chosen you… and it will give you what you need. Put your hand on its pages.”

  Eric placed his palm on the book.

  He felt something move beneath his skin, like a vat of maggots squirming against his flesh.

  “Ugh,” he exclaimed, jerking up his hand from the paper.

  Nothing was there.

  “How are you going to learn magic if you can’t even keep your hand on a book?” she chided him.

  He gave her a look, then put his hand back on the page.

  The squirming sensation began again – and suddenly words began to flow up over his fingers and into his sleeve, like a movie projector’s light superimposed on his skin. He watched in horrified fascination as the words flowed up his arms, into his sleeve, like reversed trickles of black rain.

  Suddenly, he could understand the whispers all around him.

  “Call me, master…”

  “Release me… let me do your bidding…”

  “I shall serve you well… free me from this cage, and I will bind my will to thine…”

  “I… I can understand the voices I’m hearing,” he exclaimed in amazement. “And somehow… I know their names…”

  Cythera nodded. “Excellent. What do they say?”

  “They want to be let out… they say they’re going to do my bidding…”

  “Mm,” she said with a grim smile. “Never believe them. A demon’s only agenda is its own. They will beg and plead to be released, but once they are…”

  “Don’t believe her!” one of the voices whispered.

  “She lies – she deceives you!”

  “Ignore her! I shall serve only you!”

  “They’re telling me you’re lying,” Eric said.