Stolen Lives: A LitRPG/GameLit Novel (The Underhill Chronicles Book 1)

by Keith Ahrens

  I shake him awake and call his name. He comes to, slow and groggy, and sits up. He shakes his head like a dog does upon waking.

  We quickly bring him up to speed on what happened since he got caught in the lightning blast. He gets to his feet, a little unsteady, and walks over to the remains of what used to be Jesse.

  “Doppelganger,” he states with disgust. “Shapeshifting assassins and bounty hunters. The elves enjoy using them to sow discord and kidnap humans from their world. Very tough to kill. Good job humans.” He spits on the corpse. Who knew dogs could spit?

  “But what happened to Jesse, then?” I ask. I kneel next to the body, or whatever it is, and take a closer look. Rot and decay have set in at a surprising rate. I take a stick and lift one hand up to inspect it. Small suction cup-like organs are on each fingertip. Even stranger, the digits seem webbed to the next and contain an extra joint. The skin feels spongy and rubber-like. Gross.

  “Doppelgangers try to take their bounties alive if they are worth more that way. I suspect Jesse is still alive but hidden somewhere nearby. The doppelgangers can use their magics to turn their bounty into almost anything they want. When the sun rises, we will hunt for him,” Nian says, still staring at the corpse.

  I turn back to my inspection of the body. Underneath its hand, covered in a blackish ooze, I see the small copper rod. I push it out into the open with the stick and reveal the lightning rod he'd used on us earlier. A thick, black leather band wraps around it for a handle, and the clear crystal glows faintly with trapped electrical static. Strange, thinly etched runes and symbols decorate its length. I pick it up with two fingers. I definitely have to wash this thing off before I mess around with it. Rotten doppelganger-ooze does nothing for its resale value.

  I realize that Nian and Haynes have still been talking this whole time.

  “Sorry guys, I missed that last part, but I found something.” I show them the lightning rod. “This is what he was using to shoot those lightning bolts.”

  “Great, more magic,” Haynes says sarcastically and shakes his head. “Nian says his tribe's Shamans told stories that all magic fades at the sunrise. If we wait until then, the magic effects of the fog should go away, since the person who cast the magic is dead, and there is no one to renew the spells.” He nods toward the corpse.

  “Well, I for one, have no plans to go back to sleep. Sunrise can't be more than a few hours away,” I say.

  “Agreed. We'll wait it out together then; I don’t want to split the Pack any further and finding Jesse will be easier with Thirax on the hunt,” states Nian.

  Haynes also nods, and we settle down to wait, well away from the fog and the rotting corpse. It's a long few hours, tedious but uneventful. Nothing to do but think. Yet, I do my best to not think about the acts I've committed in the past few days. Kill or be killed, right?

  My first few years as a Medic were the toughest, as far as casual and senseless deaths go. I continued to study and read up on all the new medical advances and techniques, working as hard as I could to save as many people as possible. Even one death was too many. In the end, it didn’t really matter. There are always some I can’t save…sometimes the damage is just too much. Sometimes a body just gives up the fight. I learned to deal with that a long time ago.

  But this is completely different.

  My traitorous mind offers a quick slide show of all the people and Fey folk I've killed or maimed in the past few months, and I shake my head side to side as if I to dislodge the images. It doesn't work too well. This is a parade of deaths that I've had a hand in. Deaths I have caused. Reasons and rationales don’t matter. The fact is, I’ve killed living, thinking creatures. I feel like I've lost my sense of identity, and my moral compass is just spinning in circles. Where do I go from here?

  I gaze out at the rest of our friends caught in a magic fog that will trap us as well if we try to save them. Jesse is still missing and is as good as dead right now. We're still miles away from the gate, and as far as we know, it's heavily guarded. I can only hope that Nian's Shamans were right because we don't have any other options and no other hope. If there is anything left to feel hopeful about.

  Once again, exhaustion must have overcome me. Consolation is in the fact that I wasn't alone this time. I wake to the sound of voices as the muted sunlight still manages to sting my eyes.

  “No one woke me for watch! If you assholes fell asleep, I'm gonna kick your asses!” Olivia shouts. “Caleb! Jesse! Front and center!”

  I groan as I get to my feet, still stiff and groggy.

  “Caleb! Why the hell is Jesse tied to that wagon?!” Des shouts.

  “Huh?” is the best reply my sleep muddled mind can come up with. “I dunno; I didn't do it.” Shit, that sounded whiny. What am I, five years old?

  I look over and see Jesse fast asleep on his side. There's a leather cord tied around his neck, which leads to the back of the wagon next to the two horses that he and Haynes had ridden yesterday. A piece clicks into place in my brain, and I realize that there never was a third horse… just Jesse changed into one and hidden in plain sight.

  “All right, everybody, calm down and stop shouting!" Haynes bellows.

  Thorn runs over, cuts Jesse loose, and helps him to his feet.

  "Vince, make sure the other horses don't trample anyone. Thorn, is he all right?” Haynes asks as he takes charge right away.

  Jesse answers for himself as he stands, albeit a bit unsteady on his feet, “Aye, sir. Me back and head hurt like the devil himself. The last recollection I have was splitting from ye to scout some trails… I've no goodly idea how I came to be here tied up with the horses.”

  Nian steps over to Jesse. “I will try to explain. Come, I have a doppelganger corpse to show you. That will help you understand.”

  Haynes does a quick headcount before he sends Grayson back to the saddlebags to fetch a round of MREs for breakfast.

  “These are the last of them,” Grayson reports.

  “Don't worry about that now; by tonight we'll all be having steak and beer in our own world,” Haynes replies.

  We all begin to eat while we await Nian and Jesse. A few minutes pass before they return to us. Jesse still seems to be faltering in his steps, leaning forward like he wants to crawl or walk on his hands and feet.

  “All right, for those of you who got a good night’s sleep, here's what you missed,” the Sarge begins. For the next fifteen minutes or so, we take turns telling last night's story, starting at the point where Haynes and Jesse were separated while scouting. We now know that’s when the doppelganger had gotten the drop on Jesse. No one had any reason to suspect anything at that point, and who would question an extra horse? I was hoping that we would skip the part where I fought the doppelganger that I thought was Jesse, but Haynes is nothing, if not thorough.

  Jesse seems a bit confused at this point. Maybe residual magic from the spell that had transformed him. After all, he'd just spent almost a day as a horse.

  I have a hard time looking at him though, knowing what I did. I take solace in the fact that he doesn't seem to get that I beat him to death with a handful of rusty chains. Okay, not him, but what I thought was him. I do notice Olivia and Grayson giving me sidelong glances.

  We finish up and answer a few questions. The conversation fizzles out as everyone absorbs all this new information. Thorn goes over to inspect the remains and agrees with Nian's assessment. Definitely a doppelganger.

  “Jesse, how you doin' over there?” Olivia asks.

  “I am well, Madame. However, I'm afraid this bivouac has been compromised, and we should make all haste to take to the road,” he replies around a long piece of grass he's chewing on.

  “That’s good advice. Everyone check your gear and be ready to leave soon,” Haynes says. “Get moving.”

  The horses have been grazing since we stopped yesterday, so Jesse and Des lead them to the creek to let them drink their fill. After they’re done, we tighten the saddles and refit the draft t
eam back into their harnesses. We decide to leave the wagon filled with the dead behind. There's no point taking it further, and we've already looted the bodies of anything useful.

  We take Sylvia's body out first and let the other horses loose. Without saddles, they are useless to us, so they might as well be free. We take a few minutes to gather enough large stones and rocks from the creek to build a cairn for her body. Everyone pitches in, and the work goes quickly. Haynes says a few brief words, but in truth, none of us knew anything about her, so it’s a bit vague, though heartfelt.

  We leave the elves to rot in a pile. The doppelganger corpse can get torn apart by wolves for all I care. A few of us think that’s better than they deserve. Personally, I don't, and I've yet to hear a corpse demand better treatment.

  Jesse scouts out the road on foot and reports back that it’s all clear, finding no fresh tracks or other signs of pursuit. We pull the wagon and horses onto the wide road and pick up speed from the magical imbuement. Soon, we reach the fork at the lake's edge. We slow the horses and wagon down as we approach the scene of the battle Haynes and Jesse told us about.

  The dirt is stained with dried blood in many places, but no bodies remain. Drag marks scored into the dirt lead back to the water's edge. Jesse points out a single clear print in the soft mud by the lake. It’s the size of a dinner plate with claw marks above each of the four webbed fingers. I look over the water and don't see a single ripple. In the distance, the mage storm continues to rage on the opposite bank.

  “Hey, Sarge, I been thinking. We still don't have much of a plan, and we're getting mighty close to the cave now. How we gonna handle this?” Des asks. “I might be able to set the stockade on fire… given enough time, but I gotta be real close for that.”

  I pull out the copper and crystal rod. “Well, we do have this. I don't know how many shots it’s got left in it, but it has a pretty good range from what I saw last night.”

  Thorn looks closely at the device and says, “There's still a lot of power stored in it. Simply focus your will through it, and it will do what it was made for.”

  “Is there any way to maybe overload it? Maybe use it as a bomb?” Vince asks.

  “Nay, not in any way that I'd be able to do. That is beyond my knowledge and ken,” replies Thorn with a shake of her head. “I can tell you that it can be used to throw small bolts or a long, continuous barrage, but the latter will deplete the item quickly.”

  Quickly, I open my Stats sheet and scroll down to Weapons. There it is: Rod of Lightning: 1d6-10d6+10, range 50 feet. (Unknown Charges). Wow. Pretty good.

  “All right, that could all be a big help, but I agree that we need a decent plan. I think—” Haynes starts to say before he is cut off by Grayson.

  “How about a Trojan horse kind of set up? Not like the real Trojan horse, but I was thinking, we have four sets of elven armor, right? The helmets have visors that cover the face completely, and Thorn speaks Elvish. Wouldn't that be enough for us to get close enough to maybe order them to open the gate? The ogres and goblins have to listen to the elves, right?” Grayson finishes a bit uncertainly, uncomfortable now that everyone is looking at him.

  “Damn, that might work…” Des is thinking out loud now. “Haynes, your skin is too dark, you'll never pass for a pasty elf, and Grayson is just too damn big. But Caleb, me, Thorn—obviously—and Vince might be able to pull it off. If the rest of y'all stay in the wagon, we might be able to get the whole damn thing into the stockade and past the guards…”

  “Thorn could order some of the guards to go out on patrol or something, leaving us less to deal with when we make a break for the gate,” Grayson picks up the thread of the plan.

  Haynes stays quiet for a few moments, thinking hard. “Well, that’s a shit plan, but unless anyone has a better idea, it's the best we got for now. Just remember, most plans go right to hell at the first contact with the enemy. Let’s move away from the lake, and then get these guys suited up.”

  “Well, that was cheerful and inspiring, Sarge,” I say. He flips me the middle finger, and it garners a few laughs.

  “Let’s move out; the trail starts just over here,” Sarge says, turning his horse. Without warning, he is fighting his mount for control. The panicked horse rears up, neighing and trying to throw him.

  The water at the lake edge boils and erupts in a huge wave that washes over the road. The team of horses jump and dance in their harness, rocking and shaking the wagon. Hot water washes over my boots, but I barely notice as I stare at what is causing all the ruckus.

  Coming from the water, with jaws snapping, are several alligator-like creatures, but only in the vague sense of their shape. About the size of a compact car, these saurian quadrupeds claw their way through the swampy mud and toward us onto dry land. Their bodies are low slung and held up by four legs that end in webbed, clawed paws, the owners of the dinner plate sized footprints found earlier by Jesse.

  The lead creature has an elongated jaw at least three feet long and filled with several rows of jagged teeth, almost like a shark. Twin horns protrude past its milky yellow eyes by almost two feet. A crescent ridge of bone and fin starts at its head and grows taller and bonier as it continues down its back before it tapers off near the end of its spiked tail. The entire creature is fish-belly white and covered in sickly gray scales. Steam pours from its scaly hide, and as the hot water runs off its back, melted skin sloughs off in small patches, mostly from around bony protrusions. It throws its head back and roars a high pitch screech in a challenge. More skin melts off its body as it lifts its webbed paw.

  “Water dragons! Flee to the high grounds!” shouts Thorn, panic raising the pitch of her voice.

  I jump next to Des on the driver's bench while Grayson leaps into the wagon and brandishes his ax. Everyone else is now scrambling to get back in the wagon except Vince. He's covering our pack with his bow, sending arrow after arrow at the lead water dragon. One shot catches it in its right shoulder, causing the beast to rear up and screech again. Two more arrows hit home somewhere in its chest. It seems to ignore those last two hits and begins scrambling right for us.

  Jesse somehow gets his horse to charge at the creature. As they rush past us, he pulls his saber and takes a mighty swing. The water dragon avoids the intended decapitation solely by dropping its long neck. Turning its reptilian head, it snaps its jaws and tears a chunk from the rear flank of Jesse's horse.

  The poor horse screams and leaps into a full gallop back up to the road. All Jesse can do is try to hang on and not get thrown off.

  “We're all in! Go! Go! Go!” Olivia shouts up to us.

  Des snaps the reins, and the wagon lurches forward into a tight turn, running after Jesse. Haynes passes us on his faster mount, sword out and ready. Vince has made it to the top of the wagon with Grayson and is still firing arrows as fast as he can pull them. Most deflect off the bony spikes, but a few sink deep into its diseased skin.

  “These are undead water dragons! We must outrun them! The Mage Storm must have changed them. Go faster!” Thorn shouts from inside the wagon.

  The closest one has just reached the back of our retreating wagon.

  “You heard the lady, get us moving!” I say to Des. Des ignores me in favor of shouting threats and pleas at the horses while snapping the reins like a madman.

  The rotting water dragon leaps forward and clamps down on the rear left wheel, nearly tearing it off. Grayson drops down to his knees and braces himself with his left hand. With his right hand, he swings his huge ax in a sweeping arc, cutting halfway through its bony snout. It’s a good thing he's so big and with arms to match; I don't think anyone else could've reached that far.

  The cut, while not fatal, is enough to knock it loose from the wheel. It also knocked a few wooden spokes out, making the ride even rougher. I just hope that wheel stays together until we can lose these things.

  I look back and see five in total chasing after us. Each one is in a different state of decay but equally as leth
al. We return to the road proper now, and thanks to the enchantments on the wagon and the horses' shoes, we accelerate faster, gaining some distance between them and us.

  Bad news for us—they seem hell-bent on chasing our fleeing party. I watch and soon realize they are following the blood trail from Jesse's horse. Most water-based animals, sharks, alligators, and the like, don't see very well, but they can smell a drop of blood by a long way off. Reason dictates it’s the same with these things.

  “Jesse, can you stop that bleeding?” I shout over the wind and point at his horse's hindquarters.

  He looks toward the rear of his horse and turns the other way around until he sees the wound. It’s too far behind him to reach, so he improvises.

  Swinging his left leg back over the saddle, he balances in one stirrup, holding the saddle horn white-knuckled in his right hand. Then he reaches back with his left arm and spreads his leg beneath himself for balance. He mops up the flowing blood and covers the wound with his sleeve.

  Wow, that’s kind of impressive, but how long can he keep that up? The horses are still at a full gallop, so maybe he won't have to for long.

  A roar and a shout coming from the back of the wagon overlap each other. A loud creaking follows a huge cracking noise. I climb up on top the wagon and low crawl to the back. I make it there just in time to see Thirax and Grayson launching a wooden bench out the back.

  By bench, I mean an almost ten-foot-long, three-foot-wide, hardwood ballistic missile. It’s thrown with impressive force and hits the lead water dragon, narrow end first. It lands at the base of the creature's long neck where it meets the shoulders. The end splinters on impact, driving shards deep into the monster.

  The water dragon seems to fold around the giant plank before it goes down in a speeding heap. Its front leg breaks, and thick, clotted blood bursts from the wound. The bench continues in its trajectory and hits the next one in the legs, causing it to stumble and slow down. The other three run into the rear of the front two, and a fight breaks out among themselves.