Guilds at War: The LitRPG Saga Continues

by C. J. Carella

  More anti-life spells hit him. His pursuers knew the area and were beginning to surround him. He had enemies on his left – more of Laryn’s reanimated corpses – and a whole bunch of Troggs to the rear. He ran through the swirling buildings and saw one of the cave’s walls looming ahead. If he couldn’t find an exit there, he was done for. He had a tentative plan to summon a Tarakken and have the Digger clone try to dig him an exit. If that didn’t work, the best he could hope for was to get killed and respawn. If they caught him alive… Images of the Nerf Herders in the melting pit made him run faster.

  Hawke Lightseeker.

  A female voice called to him. That wasn’t the first time it had happened to Hawke, but the voice in this case was different than Saturnyx’s. The message wasn’t Mind magic, which he was familiar with, but something working on a different wavelength he didn’t recognize. And yet, there was something familiar about the voice, something he couldn’t pinpoint in the middle of the running fight, but which made him distrust it immediately.

  That’s my name, lady, he sent back as he used Twilight Step to gain some distance on his pursuers. But I’m kinda busy right now.

  I can see that. I would like to make a bargain with you. I can facilitate your escape from your current predicament, in return for a favor of my choosing.

  Saturnyx said.

  Hawke cursed under his breath. Dealing with Fae was risky, not something you wanted to do in a rush. A moment later, he found himself at another dead end. He’d managed to put a building between him and the larger group of Undead, but the Troggs were right behind him. He couldn’t see any doors or windows in the structures around him, so after dropping a Consecrated Ground on the street, he used Burning Light to smash a hole in the nearest wall. The cone spell tore through the composite material as if it was papier-mâché, creating an opening big enough to walk through. Hawke rushed into the building as more spells hit him. His Mana was dropping to dangerous levels, so he accessed another potion. Two left before he had to start drinking them by hand.

  The inside of the building was as twisted and insane as the exterior. Hawke found himself in a narrow corridor that curved until it met other spiraling passageways. Hawke went left. One direction was as good as another when he could just blast through any walls in his way. Being out of sight kept more spells from hitting him, at least. A couple of healing spells removed any ongoing damage, giving him a few seconds of peace. They hadn’t landed a Major Undead Curse on him, thankfully, because he didn’t know how to remove them.

  You are running out of time, Hawke Lightseeker, the Fae said.

  What is the favor you want? Hawke replied. I’m not giving you a blank check.

  While he spoke, he continued down the corridor and opened his map app. It only showed him places he had seen, so most of the building’s interior remained blank, but all he was interested in was a general direction, as in away from his pursuers. Behind him, he heard howling laughter as the Troggs came closer. He left another Consecrated Ground for them and kept moving.

  I want one of the Revenants you stole from the Necromancer Gregory Ballantine, the voice answered after a short pause.

  So you help me escape this Revenant to let another one loose? Screw that!

  That was all the time he had for conversation. A Trogg warrior in his bronze armor came at him, two short swords in his hands, each glowing with the curse he’d been worrying about. Hawke hit it with three anti-Undead spells, but the bastard was an Undead tank, with massive protections and Health, and it kept coming. Hawke blocked a thrust with his shield, deflected a second blow with his sword, and sent a Hammer of Light right into the monster’s leering metal mask. That staggered the Trogg for a second, just enough time for Hawke to ram Saturnyx into its chest and send a 500-Mana bolt of Light energy through the blade and directly into its body. The monster exploded into chunks of meat just as two more rushed into view and he had to run again.

  We have no intention of releasing another Revenant, the Fae went on. We want to study them to better understand the necromancy that created them and device countermeasures against it.

  Fae rarely lied directly, although they were experts at twisting the truth to suit their purposes. Still, Hawke didn’t like the idea of letting one of those monsters fall into their hands. He blasted another hole and ran out of the building – right behind another group of reanimated zombies. Before the Undead could react, Hawke hit them with a couple of area spells and ran off in the opposite direction. Sooner or later, they were going to corner him. He’d better make a deal before that happened.

  If you help me get out of here and return to the surface, I will allow you or one person of your choice to come to my Stronghold and examine one Revenant.

  He had to use a third Mana potion as he ran through a gauntlet of spells, curses, and poisoned missiles; some of the Trogg warriors were carrying crossbows.

  Very well, Hawke Lightseeker. We have a bargain.

  Great, Hawke thought as he kept running. There were bands of Undead of both varieties on three sides of him, leaving him only one place to go, a broad avenue that curved away from the cavern wall and led back into the city. A blast of black lightning hit him from above; he looked up and saw several Troggs flying atop bat-like monsters. They had an air force, and he was out of luck.

  Kindly stop running and stand close to a building, the Fae woman instructed.

  He did as he was told, and realized a perfect copy of himself was still running down the road, chased by the band of Troggs behind him. The illusion was powerful enough to fool the Undead; not only that, the fake Hawke fired off a couple of spells that injured and killed a few of its pursuers, which none of the illusion spells Hawke knew of could do.

  Saturnyx said.

  I think she’s one of the Fae who worked for Laughing Man and brought Greg to the Realms. Cheerleader and Goth Girl.

 

  Wasn’t planning on bringing it up, he replied as he turned off his auras and recast Twilight Shroud on himself, as well as taking the time to reach into his inventory and refill his Dispensary with fresh Mana potions. He still wasn’t out of the woods.

  The pursuit moved away from him. He thought about circling back and taking another look at the ritual circle, but decided he’d taken enough insane chances for the day. What he needed to do was get the hell out and inform the authorities that a dead Trogg city was coming to life right under their feet.

  What next? Hawke asked the Fae woman.

  Come toward me. The cavern is protected against most forms of teleportation and intrusion, so we need to be much closer to extricate you from it.

  He had figured as much, which was why he hadn’t tried to use Node Recall to get out of the caverns, that and the fact that the closest Node under his control was three days’ travel away from the city, with no quick way to get back. There were still sounds of fighting and spellcasting in the distance, so the simulation was giving the Undead a good show. Best to make good use of it.

  A set of coordinates appeared on his map, a red point in a sea of darkness, since he hadn’t visited that area yet. He made his way there, moving as quickly as he could while remaining in stealth mode. The fighting in the city stopped, and soon he spotted parties of Undead prowling through the warped streets. The jig was up, and they were looking for him. And they weren’t relying on their eyes and other senses, either; their witches and lieutenants were casting area spells all around them, hoping a lucky hit would reveal his position. It was the sort of tactic you used when you had an unlimited supply of Mana, and Hawke realized with a sick feeling that he had seen the monsters’ Mana pools refill themselves with impossible speed. The ceremony, or maybe the city itself, was recharging their energy.

  He made i
t to the cave side just ahead of one of the scouting parties. All he could see was an unyielding wall of stone, probably warded against Earth spells, teleports, and scrying spells. He didn’t know how he was going to get through it.

  I’m here, he sent out. Behind him, he heard the unmistakable howling of a Death Cyclone, too far to hurt him, but making him feel like a submerged sub while depth charges went off around it.

  Listen carefully, the Fae woman said. You will use your Twilight Step spell. I have created an opening in the rock that will serve as your emergence point, but you must let me access your mind so you can see it through my eyes.

  What? You never mentioned that before.

  There was hardly enough time to explain. Now, do it or take your chances with the Troggs. I swear I will not use the connection to harm you in any way, now or in the future.

  Hawke scowled but when he felt a mental probe reaching for him, he allowed it in. More spells were going off all over the city, and sooner or later one of them was going to land close enough for the Undead to spot him. His vision wavered, and when it cleared, he was staring at a dark and narrow tunnel where two figures waited. He only could see their feet, as the Fae woman was looking down: one set clad in green boots, and one pair bare and covered in tattoos.

  Make the jump. I will help you get past the wards.

  The maximum range of his teleport was thirty yards. He hoped he wasn’t about to try to exceed it, since a failure would leave him stranded where he was and send out a flare of Mana that would let everyone nearby know where he was. Activating the spell only took a thought, but instead of appearing elsewhere an eyeblink later, everything slowed down to a crawl. He was moving through pure darkness, and something was trying to drag him back. The wards against teleportation, he figured.

  Bolts of light energy flashed past and exploded somewhere behind him. Everything speeded up again, and Hawke found himself standing on the tunnel, facing his rescuers. The Fae woman had gotten him out.

  “Look who the cat dragged in,” one of them, a half-naked man covered in tattoos, said. The man’s voice was somewhat familiar, but Hawke had to look at the nameplate floating over his head to recognize him.

  “Nice to see you, bro,” Desmond the Destroyer told him, a nasty smile on his face.

  Twenty-Six

  Desmond the Destroyer (Human, Eternal)

  Level 21(20) Engraved Warrior

  Health 6,111 Mana 2,262 Endurance 3,171

  Desmond’s head was shaved, and covered in more tattoos; so was his face, reminding Hawke of a hard-core Mexican gangster. His broad chest was festooned with even more ink, as well as scar designs that looked like they had been burned into his hide, like cattle brands. Almost every inch of the Warrior’s skin was covered with intricate designs and symbols that Hawke recognized as spell patterns. Hawke had an enchanted tattoo of his own, a boar design on his chest that increased his Health and Resistance values, but he hadn’t gotten it inked; it had been magically grafted to his skin when he ‘equipped’ it. By the looks of it, Desmond’s tattoos had been made the old fashioned way.

  The Engraved Warrior – an Elite Class Hawke hadn’t heard of – was wearing only a leather harness, a kilt, and a pair of sandals. His main weapon was an insanely oversized sword with a six-foot chopping blade that looked like something stolen from a Japanese action game. It barely fit in the tunnel and looked like it would be useless indoors, but it probably had some magical property that made those shortcomings irrelevant. A quick glance revealed it was a level 20 Masterwork item known as Ghost-Cutter. Its abilities were shielded from his True Sight and he didn’t feel like trying to do a full Mana analysis of it. Besides the main weapon, half a dozen daggers hung from the chest harness, some long enough to qualify as short swords. No shield, although his insanely-high Health suggested that he could act as a tank and damage-dealer.

  “You don’t look so tough anymore, Hawke,” Desmond said. “I bet I could kick your ass.”

  “Maybe later, dear,” the woman standing by his side told him. Desmond’s grin vanished and he unconsciously took a step back. Some things had changed, but the big guy was still letting women walk all over him. Except that the green-clad creature facing Hawke was no ordinary woman.

  Her stat box was nothing but question marks, revealing nothing except her species: High Sidhe. Hawke couldn’t see her class, level, or energy pools. That meant she was at least fifteen levels higher than him, had access to powerful abilities to hide her nature, or, more likely, both. She was over six feet tall, slender but not spindly, unlike most Fae, and her bright coppery hair was arranged in a dozen braids woven through with gold wire. Her inhumanly large purple eyes regarded him with amusement, her mouth quirked in a thin smile that he recognized from the Necromancer Greg’s memories. Leara, also known as Cheerleader. Agent of some guy called Saul Valentino who was likely working for Laughing Man, Demiurge of Chaos.

  “I am known as Leara,” she said. “I am glad you still live, Twilight Templar.”

  “I’m not,” Desmond muttered.

  “That’s wonderful, but maybe we should get going,” Hawke replied. “There’s a major ritual going off in those ruins, and my guess is that it’s going to trigger a Zombie Apocalypse of some sort.”

  Leara nodded. “So I have gathered. The Ebon Dynasty created powerful weapons meant to turn the populace of entire cities into teeming hordes of Laughing Dead, as they called their monstrous creations. That is likely what your enemies plan to unleash.”

  “Not on my watch,” he said before mentally reaching out to Tava, who was still in range of the sword-bond. He explained the situation to her in a few sentences.

  Let Thane Stern know. He can get the Dwarves ready. I’m going straight to the Prefect. This is going to take a lot of firepower.

  We will be there soon, Tava replied. But be careful of the Fae woman, and, next time you fight, you will have me by your side or you will face another fight afterward.

  I promise, he told her. And I love you.

  As do I.

  “All right,” he said out loud. “I take it this tunnel leads back to the sewer tunnels? I have business to attend to.”

  “What, no ‘thanks for saving my ass’?” Desmond asked. “What a dick.”

  Saturnyx had taught Hawke that you never thanked the Fae, or they would take it as an admission that you owed them something and they would not hesitate to collect on such debts. From the looks of it, Desmond now belonged to Leara, and from the way the Warrior cringed when the Fae woman shook his head at him, it wasn’t a pleasant dom-sub relationship. More like a horror show situation.

  “You’ll have to forgive him for his rudeness,” she said. “Dear Desmond is no longer fit for polite company. He mostly kills anyone I tell him to kill, and keeps to himself otherwise. But yes, I created this tunnel from the sewers above us. I sensed you were about to get in trouble and prepared a way out. We have a bargain, Hawke Lightseeker. See that you keep it.”

  “I’ll do my best. Only thing is, I’m about to do something extremely dangerous.”

  “Other than wandering around an ancient Trogg city by yourself, you mean.”

  “That’s how I roll. I’m sure I’ll survive, being an Eternal and all, but you never know. I think that keeping me alive until I can take you to my Stronghold is in your best interests.”

  Leara grinned. “You are asking for my help with no attached obligation in return.”

  “No. I’m saying that if I’m dead I cannot fulfill my current obligation.”

  “It appears that your bloodline runs true, for you argue like one of the Good Folk. Perhaps we may be of some help, although I think a better bargain can be reached.”

  “You want us to help him?” Desmond said, his hatred of Hawke overriding his fear of Leara. “After what he did to me?”

  “I want you to do as you’re told,” she replied coldly. “What he has done to you is but a tithe of what I will do if you displease me.”

  The Warrior
backed off once more and lowered his head. Hawke didn’t like the dynamic he was seeing, not one bit, but Desmond had made it clear that he was no friend of his. Not entirely without justification, but the hatred he saw in Desmond’s eyes was reason enough to let him sink or swim on his own.

  Saturnyx told him.

  Leara grinned. “I am prepared to lend you dear Desmond, to serve you as you wish, in return for the destruction of all Revenants in your possession. After I am done examining one of them, of course.”

  Hawke looked thoughtful and did not say that he had already decided to destroy all the Undead Fae that he’d inherited from Necromancer Greg. Getting paid for something you were going to do all along seemed like a damn good deal. Having Desmond’s help could be useful, and he thought the Warrior was too afraid of Leara to do anything that might put the deal with Leara in jeopardy.

  “Why not your help?” he asked her. “You can probably handle both bosses on your own.”

  “In the higher Realms, perhaps, although Laryn is a tricky one; he has humbled a god already, and might prove to be a handful. But my presence in Akila must remain a secret, for I was not given permission to be here. Their wards are powerful; I have managed to fool them, but if I reveal myself they would strike me down.”

  After seeing how the city’s wards had nearly killed Blaze, Hawke could understand that. Interesting that pure-blooded Fae were treated like Demons or Undead. Maybe the similarities didn’t end there. Worrisome, since he was part Sidhe himself.