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

by Keith Ahrens

  “Get down here!” he low growls at me. I turn and wave Acri over as I swing my legs over the edge, feeling for a foothold. Thirax grabs me by the hips and lowers me into the mouth of a narrow cave. He does the same with Acri and then guides us into the narrow crevice.

  The ceiling is low, and the walls are rocky and narrow. About fifteen feet in, it opens into a small circular cave where we find Olivia kneeling on the ground, facing outward. She smiles when she sees me, and I can't help but return it.

  We stay quiet and just hunker down for a while. It’s pretty dim this deep in, and very little light makes its way to us, but that’s just fine; it makes it easier to hide for now. Twenty minutes pass before we see a small shower of dirt and stones rain down past the cave opening.

  Angry voices drift down to us, too indistinct to make out the words. A minute later, we hear a scream, and a gray-skinned body plummets past the hole. We clearly hear it crack and splash as it crashes into the submerged rocks below. Some more angry voices argue, but they begin to get fainter, as if the others are walking away, still yelling at each other.

  We decide to wait out the night in our little spider hole. It's cold and cramped, but I'll take it over the fate of the villagers any day.

  31

  The sun hits its zenith before we venture back to the village. Frozen bodies, both elf and redcap, litter the ground. The snow is churned up everywhere, and many trees bear the scars of fire and blade. Thirax reports multiple tracks leading away from the village, consistent with the light tread of the elves. The 'Caps leave no trail to follow. We speculate they must have traveled away through the root systems, the same way they sprung their ambush.

  Acri refuses to search the bodies for his relatives. He claims it doesn't matter now; he is dead to them regardless. I see a shadow of pain on his face in a rare, unguarded moment.

  Olivia and I aren't as shy. We loot a few of the surviving burrows and gather any camping supplies and blankets we can. We leave the remains of the village with our packs laden with supplies. I should feel bad, but we need them more than the dead do.

  We move higher into the mountains for a few days, utilizing every trick Thirax knows to throw the redcaps off our trail. We spend a miserable two weeks above the tree line, but it is necessary. No trees, just a few scrubby plants, so no roots for the redcaps to sneak up on us with. We find a shallow cave out of the wind with a good view of the trail, and settle in. We wait and watch impatiently as the moon goes through her subtle changes.

  Boredom and frostbite become very real concerns; no trees equals no firewood, and our newest cave doesn't come with complimentary cable and Wi-Fi, let alone warmth. Time drags on until we estimate about a week is left until the coming full moon. We try to be productive with our time, attempting to teach our companions about our world. Most of the time, Thirax just grins and looks at us like we're pulling his leg. The rest of the time, he seems to enjoy the stories. Acri, as usual, absorbs all the information and asks many, many questions.

  As a tradeoff, the elf tries to teach us a little about his magic. I ask a lot of questions of my own, trying to understand the Healing Magics some more. Most of what he has to say is formula and theory. He never studied Healing Magics and claims he has no aptitude for it. It seems that each magic user has a natural affinity for one or more types. Sadly, after much testing, it seems I have only the knack for minor healing for now. The one spell I have managed is much stronger with the added power of the stones, but they aren’t totally necessary. But like anything else, I assume the magic can get stronger with practice and hard work, or at least this will help me level up. So, I spend my time working on that. I wonder if it will last when we return to our world?

  There have been no new attacks on us nor sightings of anything more suspicious than a surly mountain goat, so we decide it’s safe to start moving again. Going down the mountain passes is a hell of a lot easier than going up. Without Thirax, I know we would’ve gotten lost many times.

  The air warms as we descend the hills, and the days pass in exhausting, mile-consuming hikes. Each night is a cold camp with double watches. Of course, this means little sleep for anyone. Olivia and I are down to one MRE a day and have been for a while. Likewise, for the other two, we've been traveling too fast to allow much in the way of foraging or hunting.

  We are all tired, hungry, and cranky by the time we come within sight of the lake again. This is it. The moon should be full tonight for the first of three nights. Our chance at going home is close, and this cheers Olivia and me a lot. Thirax seems to just roll with the idea, but Acri now seems a little nervous whenever anyone brings it up.

  I can't blame him. Prior to meeting us, he had a cushy job, steady pay, cheap wine, and a future. Now, he is homeless, jobless, poor, and most of his extended family may be dead because we took him hostage. His cooperation is somewhat surprising, now that I think about it. I'm just glad he's warmed up to us a bit, and everyone is a lot less hostile toward each other. I wouldn't call he and I friends, exactly, more like two people trying to ignore that they tried to kill each other and are now forced to work together. I don’t think there’s a word for that…

  We make a midday camp in a small clearing about a stone's throw from the water's edge. The sky above the lake is clear for miles; the mage storm must have burned itself out or maybe just moved on.

  Thirax offers to go out and scout the clearing and see what kind of fortifications and troops have been added. I begin to tell him to be careful when I see the look on his face. I shut my mouth and wish him luck. The remaining three of us settle down to wait for his return.

  I've never been good with sitting idle. I always feel like I should be doing something. So, I try to work on a plan. Using the sole of my boot, I sweep the dried leaves and sticks from a patch of ground. I sketch a rough map of the lake, the roads that we know of, and the path to the cave, complete with the MRE stockpile. Next, I add the clearing and the stockade as last I saw it. Acri takes the stick and completes the drawing with a sketch of the cave system. After seeing the completed map, it galls me a little to know just how close I was to going home. And that was only a month ago, though it feels a lot longer.

  What Acri does next surprises me and goes a long way to get me to trust him. He continues to sketch, adding the mountain that the cave goes through. On that mountain, he marks a trail from just beneath the peak to a small room off the main cavern.

  “I trust you know some basics of magic by this time, yes?” he asks us. Olivia shrugs her shoulders a little, and I nod in affirmative. “Good, so we can skip that part. Now, as you may remember from our talks, I am a Fire Magus. That is my natural affinity and my natural inclination. But that does not mean that is my only discipline. I've had many long hours sitting at that damn gate to experiment and practice other magic types. After months of study, I passed through fire and into molten metals, and from metals to stone. Magma. From there, it was a short step to Earth Magics.”

  “Why are you telling us this? Kind of an odd time to be bragging, isn't it?” Olivia asks with a smile to take the sting out of her words.

  Acri faintly returns the smile but doesn't insult her. This is a big step up from just a few weeks ago.

  “I mention my ability in Earth Magics for one reason and one reason only. I carved myself an escape tunnel out through the back of my quarters.”

  I look at him in surprise again. “You didn't trust your own troops?”

  “Ha! Of course not. Goblins will gut you for the loose change in your pocket, and the ogres are just plain evil. They enjoy torturing things weaker than themselves for the mere sadistic fun of it. And they know how to make it last. The only smart thing for me to do was to ensure I had a bolt hole.”

  “So, how do we know it wasn't compromised after you left? Surely, they sent a replacement by now who would've taken over your quarters,” Olivia reasons.

  “Unless they had reason to break through a foot of granite, they will not have found it. I left the
wall intact for just this reason—so no one else would find it. My rooms were closer to the gate than to the stockade where most of the troops should be concentrated. I always posted two ogres to guard the gate at all times, but I have no idea what they've done since then.”

  “This is good news. That can be our backup plan. Why did you wait until now to tell us?”

  “It didn’t seem relevant up to this point. Besides, I have many secrets that you don’t need to know about, as I am sure you have from me.”

  “Oh, yeah… I’m secretly an elven prince, and I’m doing all this to see how the poor people live,” I answer with as much sarcasm as I can muster. “Let’s wait until 'Rax returns, and then we can figure out our best move.” I turn to Olivia, and she nods in agreement.

  A few hours pass before Thirax slips back into our temporary camp.

  “The way looks grim and fiercely protected. The clearing is littered with at least a score of tents large enough to hold a minimum of two ogres each. The stockade has been rebuilt taller and thicker, and is banded with brass and silver. I believe a frontal assault would be a suicide attempt.” He looks sad when he finishes his report, knowing the bad news for what it is and what it means for us humans. “I also made an attempt to secure you more of your human food… but alas, it was all burned to the ground. Nothing left but ashes. I am sorry, Caleb, Olivia,” he nods his head to each of us as if giving a condolence.

  “Thanks for trying, Big Guy.” Olivia reaches up high and pats him on the shoulder pad.

  “Well, lucky for us"—I smile wide—“we may have another way in. Acri, would you go over it again?”

  It takes us the better part of a day and a half to reach Acri's backdoor in the mountains. There was no clear trail, just some breaks in the brush made over the years by the wildlife. It's steep and rough, not unlike the damn mountain we just left.

  Tonight is the second night of the full moon. We plan to observe their night-time patrols so we have a decent chance of escaping tomorrow evening. Again, we're cutting it close, but that may work to our advantage with less chance of pursuit.

  The wind is cold, dry, and blowing hard this close to the apex of the hill. Conversation is difficult, but Acri manages to convey that he needs some time to work his magics. We settle down in the lee of a large boulder to wait.

  The elf scoops up a handful of rocks from the ground and stares at them in his palm for a long, dull moment. Almost a minute passes before he begins to make a series of intricate hand gestures over them. His hand droops lower to the ground with each passing moment, as if the stones are becoming heavier by the second. Finally, he throws his hand out to the right at a large boulder that is set into the face of the cliff.

  A ropy cord of brown-gold light streaks out from his palm and ends in a flaring glyph on the stone face. The handful of stones in his left hand also emit the same gold-brown glow as he tosses them hard down the steep trail. A second beam of light snaps into existence and connects the boulder with the pebbles.

  Like a tractor pulling a stubborn stump, the handful of pebbles tears the two tons of cliff face down and drags it a few yards before it comes to a dusty stop.

  With sweat running down his pale face, Acri smiles in satisfaction. He climbs to his feet, leaning on his staff, and walks into the new hole in the wall. Without an invitation, I shrug and follow him in. A few paces forward, a spiral stone staircase begins and descends into a deep, dark gloom. A bright white light flares, and it takes my eyes a moment to adjust. It surprises me enough to cause me to half-draw my weapon.

  When I can see clearly again, I see Acri holding his staff high to the low ceiling, a bright, yellow-white flame dancing at the top. A moment later, Olivia and Thirax join us, as if they were just waiting for us to turn on the lights.

  The motionless air in here is stale and musty. No draft stirs up any dust. We leave deep footprints in the soft ground as we make our way down the carved steps. Every few minutes, the steps hit a plateau, and we have to travel through narrow passages to reach the next series of steps going down. This takes hours of cramped, sweaty and dirty walking, with the only source of light a flickering flame that sets wild shadows about all around us. Good thing none of us seem to be claustrophobic.

  I estimate it must be well after dark by the time Acri calls a halt. We've reached a dead end, a smooth wall of granite in front of us. He puts his ear up to a blank stone and listens intently. “It’s either empty or the person inside is very quiet,” he whispers. “These were my quarters. The door to the cavern is to the left. Another left will take us into the chamber that holds the gate. The ogres used to be inside the cavern facing the gate. They were more there to stop anything from coming in from your world. The rest of the garrison is there to prevent anyone on this side from getting to the gate. I trust you all are competent enough to make a quick, quiet kill if necessary?”

  I glance down at my mace dubiously. “Maybe? Depends on how quiet we need to be. But, depending on how this goes, we may just be able to 'quick strike' and make a run for the gate.”

  “Sounds too simple. I wouldn't plan on it all going that easy,” Olivia says.

  “Of course not. I’m just being optimistic. Be prepared for war, but hope for peace and all that,” I say with a grin.

  Acri takes out his small pack of lock picks and selects a sharp, thin tool. He carefully etches a tiny rune into the stone and blows the dust out of it. He takes a moment to inspect his work by the light of the staff before he presses his index finger to it. The rune flares to life, and the stone underneath it begins to run like water. A dim light shines through the tiny hole that is about the size of a pencil eraser.

  He douses his own light and presses his eye to the hole. “I believe it's empty in there. The door is open for now, and I can see into the hallway.”

  “We'll take turns observing through the hole and noting any troops or personnel we can hear or see. Half hour shifts for now, and we'll change that to two-hour shifts when it’s time to sleep. Agreed?” Olivia asks us all. No one argues, so we settle down again for a long night.

  Now I know why Olivia didn't seem very enthusiastic about this part. Stakeouts are effing boring. The only exciting thing I can report for all my hours staring through that little hole is I got to see the changing of the guard.

  I'm first alerted to this by an echo of a memory I'm already trying to forget. It’s a steady step, drag, step, drag cadence that I spent so many of these last months in a low state of fear over. My first glimpse of this alternate-reality-made-flesh is in the form of my former one-legged ogre jailer.

  He and three others pass the doorway without even a glance inside. A minute later, four more ogres exit the other direction and pass from view. Four guards on each shift. Nothing we can't handle.

  A few moments later, a dark-skinned elf enters the room and shuts the door behind him. He places an ebony staff on a rack above his bed and then goes through the motions of emptying his pockets and laying various charms and weapons out and within reach. Finally, he douses the light and settles into his narrow cot. A few minutes later, he's breathing slow and regular, fast asleep.

  Our little area is still in complete darkness until Acri reaches up and seals the hole with more liquefied stone. A second later, his staff flares back to light, momentarily blinding us all.

  We confer in low whispers. After a brief debate, we decide that we will make our move tomorrow night, after the dark-skinned elf goes to bed. Acri can silently melt the wall, and Thirax can see well enough in pitch blackness to kill the elf while he sleeps. Then just four more quick murders, and we're home free. That's all.

  It's mildly disturbing that this plan is sitting so easily in my mind. What does this say about the current and future state of my conscience? Problem is, I don't see another way around this. Any attempt at a distraction to get the ogres to leave the room to investigate is likely to just bring more guards to the area.

  A part of me wants to rationalize this plan. Things like
'if we kill these ogres now, they can't kill any more slaves in the future,' or 'they would do the same to me.' These are just hollow justifications. This plan calls for straight-up murder. But it needs to be done, not just for my sake, but for the sake of the others as well.

  There! A rationalization I can live with.

  The next day stretches in almost unbearable tension and tedium. The space we are in is cramped with no moving air. It’s also hot… very hot. Smells of sweat mingle with the musky odor of Gnoll. Olivia and I share the last MRE we have in the dim light of Acri's staff. The four of us split the remainder of the fresh water, but it’s not enough by a long shot.

  “How can we stop them from following us through? We can't risk another running firefight, and we can't lead these things back to our friends,” Olivia asks in a very quiet voice.

  “Well, if the Sarge has anything to do with it, they'll be ready for that,” I say, more confident than I feel.

  “But can we really risk bringing that danger down on top of them?”

  “I… don't think we can avoid it.”

  “I may have a plan for that," Acri interjects. "Remember, it’s worth my while to stop any of my former colleagues from tracking us as well. I don't know if you know this already, but the gate sits on a large vein of pure silver, and that is what the structure of the gate itself is made of. If you all can buy me a few moments, I can turn the silver molten, and the gate will drown in itself, permanently closing it.”

  “Seriously? Just like that? All this will be over?” I quickly blurt out my questions, not waiting for individual answers.

  “Not quite. The gates can be seen as almost like a relief valve between the worlds. Magics, life energies, even the very air, exchanges through these portals. They are naturally occurring, and they want to exist. Another will develop and open at the next full moon, somewhere close. But that will give us thirty days or so to get far enough away.”