Shattered Lands: A LitRPG Series Read online

  Merridack walked over to an ornate mahogany table and sat in the only empty space – a throne-like chair that was apparently reserved for him and only him.

  He clicked his fingers once at the ruffian sitting in the chair closest to him. The thug scowled, but obediently got out of his seat and slunk away.

  “Sit down, boy,” Merridack said.

  Daniel sat in the newly vacated chair and hungrily eyed the roasted chickens the other men were tearing apart.

  “Get me a bird and a bottle, Spat,” Merridack ordered. “Him as well.”

  Big Ears grudgingly served up a couple of roasted chickens on platters. Then he put out a bottle of wine for Merridack and a bottle of water for Daniel.

  I guess the game knows I’m under 21, Daniel thought as he took several thirst-quenching gulps. He could literally feel his Strength stats increasing with every mouthful.

  Merridack pulled out a knife, cut off a chunk of his chicken, and speared it on the tip of the blade.

  Daniel was about to tear into his with his fingers when he realized his fingers still had dried blood under the fingernails.

  “Is there a place I can wash my hands?” he asked.

  “What, do you want some fancy perfume and bows for your hair, too?” Merridack asked.

  The entire room laughed.

  Daniel blushed bright red. “I still have blood under my fingers.”

  “Mm, cannibalism is a bit grim, isn’t it? Just pour the bottle over your fingers and wash up right here.”

  “It’ll get all over the floor.”

  “Oh, yes, it’s not like we live next a sewer or anything.”

  Daniel shrugged, then poured half the contents of the bottle out over his hands and scrubbed them until they were reasonably clean. Then he started in on the chicken.

  It was delicious, and seemed absolutely real. Once again, he couldn’t get over how amazing the sensations of taste and smell were in this game…

  Merridack pulled off his floppy hat and hung it on one of the posts that formed the back of his throne. Without his face in shadow, his eyes were fully visible. For the first time, Daniel noticed that one iris was light green and the other was blue. He had a high forehead and still more scars, most of them thin and threadlike against his pale skin.

  Daniel was struck by how much the cutthroat looked like a punk rocker – long hair, thin features, and the cold hard look of rebellion in his eyes.

  “So tell me, boy – why do you want to be a thief?”

  Daniel shrugged as he wolfed down his food. “I dunno – I guess because it’s something I’d never do in real life.”

  He realized as soon as he’d said it that he’d made a mistake – although Merridack misinterpreted his words.

  “Real life’? This is real life, boy,” he sneered. “I don’t care where you came from, how many acres your father owns, how many horses are in his stables. You’re in the shit now, and don’t forget it. This is real life from here on out.”

  Daniel nodded silently as he chewed.

  Merridack glowered. “In fact – ”

  He grabbed his walking staff and swept Daniel’s chicken and bottle of water off the table with a clatter.

  The rest of the thieves hooted and hollered as Daniel sat frozen in disbelief.

  “ – I think it’s time we show you just how real your life is here in Merridack’s School for Wayward Children. You wanted to train to be a thief, boy?”

  From the way Merridack leaned in as he asked, it was clear the question wasn’t rhetorical.

  Daniel nodded nervously.

  “Good.” Merridack smiled maliciously. “Then let’s begin.”

  A new text box appeared in the air:

  New Quest: Train under Merridack to become a thief.

  Challenge Level: Moderate

  Reward: Possible riches beyond compare

  Punishment for Failure: Probable Death

  “Great,” Daniel muttered under his breath.

  11

  Eric

  Eric found the cobbler’s shop with no problem, then hung a right and walked until he reached a vast, open courtyard.

  Merridack had been right: there was definitely something giant and robed standing in the middle of the square. It was a marble statue, thirty feet tall, of an old man with a beard. In one hand he held a staff with a perfectly round orb at the top that was held in place by claw-like prongs. At the end of his other, outstretched arm, he held a lantern, as though he was using it to light his way.

  Just cast an illumination spell or use the staff, dummy, Eric thought sarcastically, though he knew the lantern was symbolic. Probably represented searching after Truth or something like that. And you couldn’t exactly carve light coming out of a marble sphere, anyway.

  A hundred feet beyond the statue was a gigantic set of marble steps that led to an enormous temple with massive pillars and arches. It reminded Eric of a Greek temple or the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C. Everything was bright and clean and white.

  He started walking towards the statue. Though almost as big as the marketplace, the courtyard was considerably less crowded. The few people milling around talking were serious-looking men and women (and a few elves and other races) in long cloaks. The robes everyone wore were white, grey, or blue, which contrasted notably with his own all-black attire. In fact, he got some dirty looks as he crossed the square – presumably for what he was wearing.

  Screw you, he thought as he reached the steps and started the long climb.

  Once he reached the top, he paused and turned around. The view was breathtaking. The temple was one of the tallest buildings in the entire city, second only to the palace, which he could see over to the right. The massive sandstone-colored structure had dozens of turrets and towers of its own – whether for defense or decoration, Eric couldn’t say.

  There were hundreds, maybe thousands of smaller buildings within the city walls. Many were the two- and three-story variety he’d seen lining the cobblestone alleyways, where most of the shops and residents were housed.

  But here and there, natural hills rose up out of the maze of tenement buildings, green oases surrounded by flowering gardens and topped by stately mansions. They were probably the homes of aristocrats. Or rich people, at the very least.

  Eric scowled at them, then turned his attention elsewhere.

  Miles beyond the castle walls, snow-capped mountains rose high in the distance. There were endless forests, sun-flecked rivers that snaked through open plains, and other cities and castles that looked like children’s toys in a tabletop landscape.

  He thought of all the players out there at this very moment, questing for gold, fighting orcs, killing dragons…

  Soon, he thought. Soon.

  Inside the temple it was another world. Cool, silent, austere. Dim sunshine filtered through a few arching windows, but most of the light came from dozens of five-foot-tall braziers with tiny oil lamps burning atop them.

  The layout of the temple was very much like an old Catholic church, with columned aisles along the side. But instead of stations of the cross, there were marble sculptures of various mages shown in battle, in contemplation, in acts of valor and kindness. The shadows cast by the lamps flickered across the blank-eyed faces of the statues, making them seem almost alive… if not quite human.

  Eric walked into the main center of the temple. An old man in white robes sat kneeling on the floor, his eyes closed. A ball of white light levitated in front of him, slowly pulsing and weaving through the air.

  “Excuse me,” Eric said, keeping his voice low in the tomblike silence. Even then, he sounded unnaturally loud.

  The old man opened his eyes. He was bald, with a long white beard that reached nearly to his waist. He looked Eric up and down contemptuously, no doubt finding fault with the color of his clothes.

  “Yes?” the old man said.

  “I was wondering if you could help me. I’d like to become a mage.”

  “I see. If that is
truly your path, then you have come to the right place.” The old man paused. “If that is truly your path.”

  Eric frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “We here in the Temple of Nollos are dedicated to the Natural Order – the balance and harmony of all things, both natural and supernatural. It is a life of quiet contemplation and much study, with its primary reward being the acquired knowledge of Truth. Is this how you wish to spend your days – in the pursuit of Truth?”

  Actually, I kind of just wanted to go around blowing shit up, Eric thought, but didn’t say it aloud.

  “What about… going on quests and killing dragons?” he asked instead.

  The old man scoffed. “Quests… dragons… those are desires of an immature mind. A true mage seeks not these things.”

  Some game designer’s been stealing dialogue from The Empire Strikes Back, Eric thought.

  “I don’t think wanting to go out and have fun with your friends is so bad,” Eric said, annoyed.

  The old man shook his head. “You do not seek Truth. You seek fame, vainglory, riches – ”

  “No,” Eric said without thinking – but it was the truth. While all of those things sounded tempting enough, they weren’t what he was really after.

  “What is it you truly seek, if you seek neither those nor the Truth?” the old man asked.

  Eric stood there in silence and thought.

  What DO I want?

  It took him a moment, but he finally came up with the answer:

  “…power.”

  A shadow passed over the old mage’s face. “Power for power’s sake is the desire of the tainted, the impure. Your path lies elsewhere, Darkling. It does not lie here.”

  Eric stood there, shocked at first – then enraged. He wanted nothing more than to kick the old man’s teeth in, but considering he was a Level 1 Beginner and this NPC was probably a Level 300 Mage, he knew that wasn’t a good idea.

  “That’s your final decision?” Eric snarled instead.

  “Yes,” the old man said, and closed his eyes – the coldest dismissal possible.

  “Asshole,” Eric seethed, then turned on his heel and noisily stomped out. On his way, he kicked over a brazier just for good measure, gloating as the glass lamp shattered and flaming oil spread over the marble floor.

  Clean THAT up, asswipe.

  Suddenly, magically, the scene played in reverse, with the flaming oil flowing backwards. The glass lamp reformed into a whole, and the brazier stood back up on its own – everything back in its place, as though it had never been knocked over to begin with.

  The old man’s voice boomed through the silence:

  “By your actions you are judged unworthy. Depart from here and never return.”

  Eric blushed both with anger and shame and fled from the temple.

  As he flew down the steps, he noticed other mages looking at him, sneering at him, smirking at him.

  Just wait, assholes. One day I’ll come back and I’ll turn this entire place to rubble – THEN we’ll see how superior you are.

  As he walked across the courtyard, he began to despair.

  Where to now?

  He flicked his wrist in a clockwise motion and pulled up his stats screen. On the way to the temple, he’d already checked out the bag that Merridack had given him and added it to his personal inventory. Now the icons floated midair with numbers next to them:

  Copper – 23

  Silver – 5

  A small note beneath informed him that 50 coppers were equivalent to one silver, and 10 silvers to one gold.

  Not a bad haul. He could definitely get some lodging and a feast for dinner, if grapes cost just three coppers. Merridack might have been a murderous asshole, but he’d treated him fairer than the old man had.

  Merridack…

  Eric stopped in his tracks.

  As long as he wasn’t going to become a Mage, why not go train with the thief?

  Daniel’s there, too!

  He remembered Merridack’s final words to him before he’d set off on his futile errand:

  If maging doesn’t work out for you, come see me. I can always use a man willing to set himself on fire.

  He also remembered something else the cutthroat had said:

  You sure you don’t want to become a thief? Or an assassin, maybe? You’ve certainly got the balls for it, I’ll give you that.

  Eric smiled darkly.

  Assassin.

  He liked the sound of that.

  He also liked the image in his mind’s eye of the old man in the temple lying on his back, a dagger in his throat, just like the idiot singer in the forest – and a pool of blood seeping slowly out beneath him across the marble floor.

  Yes.

  I’ll become an assassin.

  Now I just have to find them again, he thought with the tiniest bit of trepidation.

  Suddenly, a text box appeared in the middle of the air.

  New Quest: Find Merridack and convince him to train you as an assassin.

  Challenge Level: Moderate

  Reward: Training to be an assassin

  Punishment for Failure: None

  Eric stood there, thunderstruck.

  It’s like the game can read my mind!

  Then he laughed out loud.

  Considering everything that he’d seen, heard, felt, and smelled the last few hours was just electrical impulses generated in his brain – the game probably could read his mind.

  He started off across the square again, newly confident in the task before him.

  One thing struck him as odd, though.

  When Merridack had found them in the forest, he’d gotten the quest to convince the thief to spare his life.

  When they made it to the city marketplace, a text box had appeared with the order to steal something from the marketplace.

  And just now, a new text box had appeared, ordering him to find Merridack for training.

  But when he went into the temple, he never saw anything suggesting he should try to convince the old man to teach him how to become a Mage.

  Maybe my path really DOES lie elsewhere, he mused.

  What did that old asshole call me?

  He struggled for a moment, trying to recall the word the old man had used, before he finally remembered:

  Darkling.

  He liked the sound of that, too.

  12

  Daniel

  Jeez, training to be a thief was hard.

  Merridack started him out on the wooden cage with all the strings and bells.

  “There is a pedestal in the center, boy,” Merridack said. “On that pedestal is a coin. Bring me the coin without ringing a single bell.”

  Now Daniel understood: the cage was a training ground to hone your control over your body, to increase your nimbleness and dexterity.

  But it was impossible.

  The strings started off less concentrated at the periphery of the cage. They were more uniform, too – straight across, or straight up and down. But the closer you got to the center, the more strings there were, and the more slack there was in the line. Strings were tied together so that even brushing one string would set off a cascade of bells.

  “Nobody could do that,” Daniel said.

  “Really?” Merridack asked, amused. He pulled off his cloak, revealing a snug black shirt and pair of pants. There were also dozens of leather straps tied tightly across his body, like a series of holsters – and every one gleamed with some sort of throwing knife or dagger.

  “Anyone want to place bets on my ringing a bell?” Merridack called out as he pulled off his boots and cast them aside.

  “Why would we want to lose our money?” another thief answered, and the entire room burst into guffaws.

  Merridack looked at Daniel but pointed at the other thieves, as though to say They know what they’re talking about. Then he stepped through the only doorway of the cage into the spider’s web of strings and bells.

  Daniel was astounded. Merrida
ck moved with the grace of a dancer, snaking through the strings like a contortionist. Within 30 seconds he was in the center of the cage, and his hand weaved through the chaos of strings until his fingers picked up the coin from the pedestal – and then slowly drew it back out.

  Within another 30 seconds he was on the outside of the cage again.

  Not a single bell had rung.

  A cheer went up from the thieves.

  “Alright, boy – your turn,” Merridack said, flipping the coin through the air at Daniel. “Put it back.”

  “Okay,” Daniel said, and started into the cage.

  Within the first five seconds, a loose fold of his shirt snagged a string and a bell rang out with a tiny crystalline chime.

  A dull pain exploded right below Daniel’s left shoulder blade.

  “OW!” he cried out and whirled around, setting off another five bells in the process.

  Merridack was standing there with his walking staff jutting through the cage bars. He’d just jabbed Daniel in the back.

  “Oh, I didn’t mention?” Merridack said. “Every time you ring a bell, you get a smack.”

  “I don’t get to practice first?” Daniel said angrily.

  “This is the practice, boy. Trust me, the Staff of Pain is very motivating – and it hurts less than losing your head to a guard in the marketplace.”

  “Do I have to go as fast as you did?”

  “You’ll never be able to go as fast I did, not even if you practice twelve hours a day for the next twenty years. No, take all the time you need. Just don’t ring any bells.”

  Daniel frowned, then turned around. He started back to the center again… very, very slowly.

  Two feet and ten seconds later, he rang another bell.

  The staff whacked him on the top of his head.

  “OW!” Daniel yelled.

  “If you don’t like it, stop ringing bells,” Merridack said.

  Daniel got hit another ten times before he reached a point where Merridack could no longer reach him with the staff.

  “What are you gonna do now?” Daniel taunted when the staff came up short.