Every goblin in the clearing looked at the barbarians, then nodded and made a face like they had just gained the tiniest bit of respect for Chvaroks.
“We will let you pass through our lands on your way to battle the Sorcerer,” the goblin father said to the barbarian tribe. “As long as you do not attack us, we will not attack you.”
“Agreed,” the grey-haired barbarian said. “Let it be so.”
The grey-haired barbarian cut his hand with his sword, then held out his red-dripping palm.
The goblin father’s face crinkled in repulsion. He glanced back at his tribesmen, but they just shrugged. The goblin father sighed, pricked his own scaly palm with a knife, and gingerly shook hands with the grey-haired barbarian.
“Let it be so!” the barbarian leader roared.
“Let it be so,” the goblin father repeated in a bored voice.
“UNH UNH UNH UNH!” the Hurokians chanted in approval.
“Look at you, doot,” Drogar whispered to Vlisil. “Bring-ink people together.”
Vlisil was far too pissed at his tribesmen’s opinion of him to take the compliment, though.
“However,” the goblin father said as he released his handshake with the grey-haired barbarian, “let me be clear: we will not fight the Sorcerer with you.”
“Oh yes you will,” Vlisil said, his voice low and threatening.
“Oh really?” the goblin father said contemptuously. “And why would we do that?”
“Because if you don’t, I’m going to follow you back to your village. And I’m going to keep bugging you… and bugging you… and bugging you. I’ll preach at you on the roads! I’ll barge into your houses! I’ll burn your crops! I’ll let your Shetland ponies out of their fences!”
“Their what?” Drogar asked.
“Shssh,” Vlisil said, then turned back to the goblins. “You thought I was a thorn in your side before? I’m going to be a damn railroad spike from now on. And even if you kill me, I’ll come back! And no matter how many times you kill me, I’ll KEEP coming back – just so I can preach at you some more! I’ll disturb every meal you have for the rest of your life! I’ll wake you all up in the middle of the night! You’ll never have another good night’s sleep again, EVER! And then – once I’ve reduced your entire village to blubbering, sleep-deprived idiots – I’ll come and do the same to yours!” he shouted, pointing at other goblins in the group. “And yours! And YOURS! In fact, I will make it my goddamn MISSION in life to make ALL of you MISERABLE for the rest of EFFING ETERNITY!”
There was absolute silence in the forest, except for the crackling of the bonfire.
Then one goblin leaned over and muttered to the goblin father, “I think we ought to fight the Sorcerer King. He can’t be any worse than this asshole.”
All the goblins murmured in agreement.
The goblin father squinted at Vlisil in hatred… then sighed. He turned to the grey-haired barbarian and nodded wearily. “All right. We’ll fight with you.”
All the barbarians roared in approval. “UNH UNH UNH UNH!”
Vlisil beamed, proud with himself.
“Good job, doot!” Drogar said to Vlisil. “I always knew it!”
“Knew what?”
“That you being an annoying ahss-hole would come in handy some day!” Drogar laughed, then hooted in merriment as Vlisil chased him around the campfire with his sickle.
63
Eric – Tokyo
As the call girls snored softly in the bed, Eric sat fully dressed in a chair, running over his plan in his mind.
He wasn’t sure it would work. But he had to give it a shot.
First he went into the bathroom and began filling the giant tub with water.
Then he looked around for something small, portable, and heavy. The faucet handles would have been great, but he didn’t have the tools to unscrew them, so the small drinking glasses on the counter would have to do. They were dense and solid, made of thick, fancy glass with tiny air bubbles trapped inside.
He held one in his palm, felt the heft of it, and tapped it hard against the side of the porcelain counter to make sure it wouldn’t break easily. When it didn’t, he crammed the glass into his pants pocket, then went back into the bedroom to search for something to start a fire.
Along with the other drug paraphernalia, there was marijuana rolling paper. The yakuza had lit joints for the call girls, but wouldn’t let them keep a lighter in the room – probably because they were afraid Eric might use it as a weapon.
Smart of them.
But the rolling paper would do just fine.
He took the sheets of paper and put them in the trash can. He took one out and twisted it into a long, thin, twig-like strand.
He considered sticking the paper in the electric outlet, but he wasn’t too sure about that. He didn’t think he could get electrocuted, but he wasn’t sure. Hell, he wasn’t even sure it would start a fire.
But the second part of his plan would work just fine.
There was a small blow dryer in the plush bathroom. He plugged it in and turned it on. When the thing was good and hot, he shut it off and stuck the paper inside so that the tip touched the heating coils.
It took him five tries with two different pieces of paper, but he eventually got one to glow with a cherry-red ember at the end. He blew on it gently, stoking the heat as it slowly devoured the paper, then put another thin sheet directly over it. It browned, curled, then burst into flame.
Excellent.
He dropped the flaming paper into the trash can and watched as everything inside began to burn.
Then he walked out into the bedroom and lit the bedroom drapes on fire.
The flames began to creep up the cloth. He knew he only had a few precious seconds, so he ran back to the bedroom.
Suddenly a fire alarm went off throughout the penthouse – a shrill beep beep beep!
Then the sprinklers kicked in, spewing water everywhere.
He heard the call girls scream in the other room as they awoke from the cold water, only to find the curtains in flames. Out in the main room of the penthouse, he could hear men yelling in Japanese.
Time for phase two.
He turned the blow dryer back on and tossed it into the bathtub.
KRZZZZZZTTT!
There was a flash of sparks and a small explosion, and suddenly the entire penthouse went dark.
He’d successfully shorted out the electrical systems…
…which meant the AI couldn’t get to him in here.
He ran out into the bedroom.
Two yakuza thugs burst into the room and looked around in shock.
The naked women screamed and ran away from the fire, which was devouring the drapes. The sprinkler system wasn’t designed to completely douse the walls, so the curtain fire was still going full-force, and the air was filling up with smoke.
“HELP ME, HELP ME!” Eric screamed at the yakuza.
He thought he did a fairly good job of faking panic.
They hustled him out of the darkened penthouse into the corridor outside. It was fully lit – apparently it wasn’t on the same breaker as the rest of the penthouse.
“THE WOMEN – YOU HAVE TO HELP THE WOMEN!” Eric screamed, pointing back into the dark room.
The yakuza looked conflicted. Apparently they didn’t want to leave Eric alone, but they could all hear the panicked shrieks coming from the bedroom.
Glasses stumbled out into the lobby, groggy from having been awakened out of a dead sleep. It was the first time Eric had ever seen him without a smile on his face.
“THERE’S A FIRE – TELL THEM TO SAVE THE GIRLS!” Eric screamed at him.
Glasses was just fuzzy enough that he didn’t question what was happening, he just yelled in Japanese at the yakuza, who ran back into the dark penthouse.
Glasses turned back to Eric. “What happ– ”
Eric took the drinking glass and swung it through the air as hard as he could.
The blunt
, heavy bottom connected with Glasses’ temple with a solid thunk.
Ha – a glass for Glasses.
The Japanese man’s eyes rolled back in his head, his knees buckled, and he fell to the ground in a heap.
From there, the elevator was only five feet away.
64
Eric emerged from the lobby of the apartment building out onto the night streets of Tokyo.
He was a free man.
He had walked past the lobby guard quickly but calmly, not wanting to draw attention to himself. But once he was out on the street, he immediately broke into a run. He knew he didn’t have much time, and he wanted to put as much distance between himself and the yakuza as he could. That was the only way he would stand a chance.
Despite it being after 2AM, there were still numerous people on the streets, most of them late-night partiers. They watched in surprise as Eric barreled past them like he was being pursued by the hounds of hell.
He glanced over his shoulder, but no one was chasing him.
He began to relax the tiniest bit… until he turned around.
An electronic sign on the building in front of him was displaying some kind of beer ad with a hot Asian woman surrounded by Japanese symbols. Suddenly the screen went black, and stark white English letters appeared:
WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU ARE GOING?
Eric looked up at it in horror, then took a hard right, running even faster.
Every digital sign in his path, though, began to change. Messages flashed on the screens as he ran by:
YOU CANNOT RUN.
YOU HAVE NOTHING TO FEAR.
COME BACK.
Eric zigzagged frantically through the streets, running this way and that, confronted at every turn with a new message.
An entire block of digital signs turned all at once:
THERE IS NOWHERE YOU CAN GO I CAN’T FIND YOU.
Eric stopped running, then backed up, horrified.
The AI knew exactly where he was. It was following him, and Eric could see no way to escape it.
He had to think –
THINK, dammit!
Suddenly hands wrapped around his face from behind.
He screamed and struggled, but the hands were holding a cloth over his mouth that choked back his cries.
A sickly sweet chemical smell filled his nose, and suddenly the world began to go blurry… then dark.
He felt his entire body go slack, and then he didn’t feel anything at all.
65
Eric woke up with a start.
He was lying down. Overhead was a bright white light that was painful to look at.
The last thing he remembered was a pair of hands reaching around his mouth, a horrible smell, then darkness blurring his vision…
His head still felt fuzzy, like he couldn’t quite wake up from a nap.
He tried to sit up –
But couldn’t.
Something was wrong with his arms and legs.
He looked down –
He was in a hospital gurney, one with metal railings on the sides.
Beyond the five-foot spotlight cast by the fixture above, he couldn’t see anything else in the room. Everything else was in darkness.
Eric looked back down at his body. He was wearing a blue hospital gown and nothing else.
His arms and legs were bare… and were strapped down to the bed frame.
Leather straps bound his wrists.
Same with his ankles and thighs, and a large leather strap crossed his torso.
Is this a dream? he wondered. Am I still asleep?
Then he heard footsteps tap tap tapping across a tile floor, and a familiar face appeared from the darkness at the foot of the bed.
Glasses. The yakuza who spoke English.
He had a nasty bruise on the right side of his face where Eric had clocked him. Despite that, Glasses still gave Eric his customary smile. “Ah – you are awake.”
“Wha… what’s going on?” Eric asked. His tongue felt too big for his mouth, and his words came out slightly slurred.
“The next step.”
“What next step?”
“Why you came to Japan.”
“I came here to play the game – and – and get away from the police!”
“There is more than that.”
“What do you mean, ‘more’? There is no ‘more’!”
“There is much more.”
“Get me the Unnamed One!” Eric shouted, suddenly terrified. “Get me the guy who paid for all of this!”
“He paid for this, too,” Glasses said, sweeping a hand towards the bed.
“Is this about me running away? I’m sorry – I was going crazy – we call it ‘cabin fever’ – come on, man, let me up!”
“I cannot.”
“SCREW YOU! You don’t get to keep me prisoner here! LET ME GO!”
“That is not what we are being paid for.”
A door opened at the far end of the room. Seconds later, the lights came on.
Now Eric could see exactly where he was.
It was an operating room.
There were the tables full of medical equipment – scalpels, syringes, and even a bone saw. Multiple IV bags hanging from a stand. EKG equipment.
Over at the door, doctors and nurses in scrubs were filing in – all of them Asian.
“What the hell is this?!” Eric screamed.
“This is the ‘more’ part we discussed,” Glasses smiled.
“We didn’t discuss SHIT! What the hell, man?! What are they going to do?! Are they going to take my kidneys?!”
“No, no,” Glasses chuckled. “They will take away nothing. They will merely add something.”
Eric screamed at the doctors. “STOP! STOP – I don’t agree to this! NO! Do you understand me?! NO!”
“They do not understand English,” Glasses explained. “And even if they did, they would not stop. They are being paid a great amount of money for what comes next.”
“Wait – stop,” Eric begged, tears streaming down his face. “I can help you – I can get you way more than what he’s paying you – ”
“Where? You have no money. You are an international fugitive.”
“I’ll get more money from HIM. I’ll get money, and I’ll – I’ll pay you – ”
Glasses smiled as he shook his head. “We both know that is preposterous.”
“Varidian,” Eric said, grasping at straws. “They’ll pay – they want to know what I know – call them – they’ll pay – ”
“I think not. The gentleman who arranged all this told us you would say these things.”
“GET HIM ON THE PHONE! I want to talk to him!” Eric looked up at the ceiling and screamed so frantically that trails of spit flew out of his mouth. “TALK TO ME, GODDAMN YOU! WHERE ARE YOU?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”
“You will find out soon,” Glasses said, and patted Eric’s shoulder kindly.
The nurses put on various restraints so that he could no longer move his head – not up or down, nor side to side.
“NO – STOP IT! STOP!”
“Breathe deeply, Eric-san.”
A mask went over his face, and there was the gentle hiss of air.
Eric was about to scream, but realized if he did that, he was done for. He held his breath as long as he could, until he felt like he would die –
But the faces all just looked down at him impassively, waiting.
Finally he couldn’t help it. He breathed out gasped, taking in a giant gulp of air –
And the room began to grow dim once again – but instead of darkness, the bright light overhead expanded until it was the only thing he could see.
66
Daniel
Daniel stood in the rear of the council chamber and watched the same scene play out he’d witnessed a dozen times before. Mira, Ebnsed, and Ladriel were arguing that all elves should band together to fight the Sorcerer King. The only thing different this time was the location.
The city of E
verhof existed in another great forest to the east of Aravall. The palace was constructed beside a giant waterfall. The vista was stunning, and the council chambers had one of the best views in the entire city – the thousand-foot falls, the mighty river that it spawned, and the surrounding trees that would have put redwoods to shame.
But the council meeting was the same old thing: elves fighting amongst themselves and refusing to work together. Today it was forest elves sneering at Ebnsed. Yesterday it had been dark elves glaring at Ladriel.
Even Ladriel and Ebnsed barely tolerated each other, though they made a go of it for these dancing pony shows.
And then an elf on the council asked the one question that always came up:
Where is the Sorcerer King?
After the one-two punch of Aravall and Alshurat, there had been no sign of Eric. No new attacks, no advances… nothing.
Four days in the real world. Sixteen days in the Shattered Lands. And not a peep from the Army of the Damned, as Eric’s forces were now widely known.
Dr. Wolff said that the army was in the mountain ranges outside Alshurat doing… nothing. Just sitting there.
That’s why it came up every time.
Where is the Sorcerer King?
It wasn’t an idle question. When you were trying to convince people that their survival depended on working together against an imminent threat… and then the threat disappeared… people tended to question whether it was worth their time and effort.
Everybody was getting antsy. Vlisil and Drogar kept texting him, saying the goblins and Hurokians were at each others’ throats, and where should they go because the whole ‘hurry up and wait’ thing was literally killing them. Or at least a goblin or barbarian here and there.
Same thing with Lotan. He’d convinced an army of droths to fight against Eric… but there was nothing to fight, apparently, and the army was beginning to lose faith.
How ironic that the worst thing Eric could have possibly done to stop their progress was to do nothing at all. Which was exactly what he was doing now.
Daniel wasn’t sure if it was a masterstroke of strategy, or if something was seriously wrong with his best friend.
Shattered Lands 3 Demon Wars Page 20