Temple of Sorrow: A LitRPG and GameLit Adventure (Stonehaven League Book 1)

by Carrie Summers

  “So how’s it going?”

  “I’ll be moving out of the junior mechanic slot soon,” Tamara said. “And as an extra bonus, I’m getting a small sponsorship.”

  “For mountain biking? No way. Congrats.”

  “Actually, it’s for knitting.” Tamara snorted. “Yes, mountain biking. Mostly it’s because I work in the shop, not because of my skills. And it’s nothing like your full-time gamer gig. But still—”

  Abruptly, Devon’s head swam. A vision flashed to life, strange black spires that would put a Gothic cathedral to shame. Carrion birds circled beneath a roiling sky. The air was damp and full of poison, and Devon was hollow with need.

  As quick as it had come, the glimpse was gone. She sucked in a ragged breath.

  “Hey Dev, are you okay?”

  Devon shook her head to try to clear the disorientation. The actinic glare of the LEDs overhead seemed to pulse. Her head throbbed. What the hell?

  “I—I don’t know, I had this… vision I guess. Like I accidentally accessed my hardware and immersed somewhere strange. But it’s a Wifi-free zone, so that doesn’t make sense.”

  Already, the sensations were vanishing. Devon scrambled after them, clawing at the memories. But they dissolved like smoke in a breeze, and after a moment, all she could remember was that she’d zoned out for a couple seconds.

  “You looked way pale,” Tamara said.

  “I think I’m just hungry. Sometimes I forget to eat when I’m playing.”

  “That doesn’t sound healthy.”

  “Yeah. I think I’d better start setting meal alarms.”

  “But otherwise, it seems really cool,” Tamara said. “I never got into the deep-dive games because of the VR gear.” She grimaced. “I couldn’t bring myself to try out one of the public pods, and headgear looked so clunky. Oh, and expensive.”

  “And a ten-thousand-dollar mountain bike? That’s not expensive?”

  Tamara grinned. “That’s different.”

  “Anyway, the implants are seamless. I forget they’re there.”

  Devon lifted her hair off her neck to show Tamara the visible part of her embedded circuitry, the lines of shining metal tattooed into her skin.

  “That’s pretty sweet,” Tamara said. “You just chill on the couch and enter a new world. How does it feel?”

  “I really thought the old VR gear was immersive. But this… It’s something more. It feels just as real as this restaurant does.”

  “But is it better? I like my life. I wouldn’t want to give it up. Like, what if it was more fun than the high I get after making it through a techie downhill run or the exhaustion I feel after a long cross-country ride. I’d be afraid I’d lose touch with those things if I found something better.”

  “It’s different because I know it’s a game. But I guess there were a couple times that I almost forgot that. Still, I don’t want to leave my real life behind or anything.” Devon shrugged. “Not that I have a lot going on there, to be honest.”

  “I did offer to take you mountain biking,” Tamara said, teasing. “A couple of guys from the shop would be psyched to take you out, too.”

  Devon snorted. “Until they saw how uncoordinated I am. I’d be a danger to everyone on the trail.”

  The food arrived, deposited on their table by a pair of runners from the kitchen. Devon’s stomach growled so loud she wondered if the whole restaurant could hear it.

  “Maybe I’ll give it a shot,” Devon said. “But only after you come join my new tribe.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  EZRAXIS PERCHED ON a branch in the night-dark forest, curtains of hanging moss draping her like a shroud. She sensed her prey approaching, as much a perception of the flesh as of her eyes. The demon sensed the pathetic lifelight that inhabited the advancing creature. She hungered to release it from its mortal prison. Closer, and she could feel the creature’s heat, smell its breath, wet with just a tinge of sulfur.

  The salamander stepped a single foot within range, and the demon leaped. She landed on the slick flesh of the salamander’s back, raking it with her hind claws and wrapping a forefoot around its throat. With a mighty slash, she opened the creature’s neck. Fire sprayed from the rent, singeing Ezraxis’s face. She smelled burning flesh, and her vision in one eye went dark, boiled away. But she’d accomplished what she intended with the attack. The salamander’s flame sac had been punctured, its greatest weapon neutralized.

  With a screech, she leaped off the amphibian’s back, flapped her misshapen wings—one still hadn’t regrown to full-size—and landed before the beast.

  She wanted the salamander to see it’s death approaching, all dripping fangs and burning eyes.

  The creature tried to flee, already leaking blood from half-a-dozen gashes.

  “No,” Ezraxis said, a guttural cry in the dark.

  She lashed out with her front claws and flayed open the thing’s legs.

  Crippled, the salamander thrashed and tried to squirm away. The demon watched it struggle, enjoying the power she held over the beast.

  As the salamander began to weaken, its breath wet in its mangled throat, the demon stalked forward. Her thigh still ached. This creature had blinded her, seared her flesh. It deserved to die. It deserved to feel her claws and to stare into her baleful eyes for the last moments of its pathetic life.

  She leaped forward and landed a foot between its shoulder blades, crushing the beast into the wet earth. Keeping it pinned, she dragged its head up, farther and farther until their eyes met and its throat was fully exposed.

  With a vicious shriek, Ezraxis snapped her head forward and closed her razor-sharp teeth around the salamander’s throat.

  It died with a gush of blood into her mouth, and she stepped away, lips pulled back in a fearsome scowl. Conquest. Blood. The kill was hers. Again.

  Deprived of the rush of combat, she felt the pain of wounds earned during the fight. Her face burned, and her blinded eye socket ached. But as the pain slipped through her, red mist began to rise from the trails of blood left by the fleeing amphibian. Thicker tendrils of mist tongued from the salamander’s wounds, licking the air before streaming forth.

  The demon stepped into the swirling mist, inhaling deeply. Power filled her lungs and sank through her pores, flooding her with healing energy. Sight slowly returned to her damaged eye, dead trees emerging first as shadows and then as skeletal hands bathed in sickly moonlight. The smell of seared flesh faded, replaced by the layers of rot blanketing the swamp. Again, the deep wound—that first wound—in her thigh knitted just a fraction more. Bones cracked and grew and reformed as her wing stretched farther from her back. Soon, it would match the other. She would be whole.

  But the blood mist did more than heal her. With each kill, particularly those that bled longer, hurt longer, the demon gained strength. Once, seemingly so long ago, rats had provided a contest for her. Now fire salamanders fell beneath her black claws.

  She opened her arms wide and screeched.

  Pathetic.

  Zaa’s voice penetrated her spirit, thrust into her soul, flooded her veins with ice.

  She cringed.

  Wretched.

  The demon whined and cowered against the silvery base of a dead tree.

  But improving. You grow stronger each day. In time, you may prove yourself worthy of my attention. Yet still, you follow the path suggested to you. Can the blood offer more than this slow restoration? Can you gain greater power?

  Ezraxis fell to her stomach and knees, groveling before her god. She felt indifference from the deity, the emotion freezing her from the inside out. But within Zaa’s touch, deep, deep beneath the layers of disregard, her god had taken an interest in her.

  Trust the blood. Allow the power to guide you to greater challenges. You are progressing, but our very way of life is threatened. Become faster, or you will never be of use to me.

  Around her, shreds of blood mist still lingered.
Ezraxis stepped forward, and on instinct, clawed open new gashes over her ribs. She carved designs in her own flesh and allowed the blood to sink in and heal them. Deep within her core, she felt something ignite. She took to the sky.

  Chapter Nineteen

  THE SUN HAD already set in Relic Online when Devon entered the game. She stood and stretched and pushed aside the flap of Hezbek’s hut. The fire had been lit and was crackling merrily in the center of the clearing. Her tribe sat around it chewing their evening meal. She glanced toward the edge of the clearing, eager to see the progress on the platforms, but the trees held too much darkness beneath their leaves. Inspecting the construction could wait. First, she needed to see to her people.

  They greeted her with tired smiles. Tired, but satisfied.

  Still, Devon couldn’t help thinking about the laughter and camaraderie she’d seen in the taco place. She wanted to create that here.

  The carpenter was preparing to speak, no doubt to give a report. She smiled at him.

  “Wait, don’t tell me,” she said gently. “I want to be surprised.” She turned to the others. “Do you have enough to eat? How’s the food?”

  No one spoke right away, and Devon noticed quite a few glances cast in Hezbek’s direction.

  The medicine woman huffed and rolled her eyes. “Okay fine. Bunch of yellow-spined babies. I suppose I’ll talk for the rest of you. You want the truth, Your Gloriousness? Or would you rather we just smiled and nodded.”

  Devon sighed as she took a seat. The fire was warm against her shins and face, and she held her palms up to the blaze. “What do you think? Of course I want the truth. Spit it out.”

  “Well, I don’t know how it is among the starborn, but we prefer a little variety in our meals. Been eating the same thing since we arrived: questionable meat cooked over the fire so long it tastes like ash, not to mention so dry it takes a full cup of water to wash down each bite.”

  “I see. So you’re saying you’d like an improvement to the food situation?”

  The woman looked at her, bewildered. “Yes, that’s what I was trying—”

  “I don’t blame you,” Devon said with a laugh.

  As she scanned the group, she spotted a face she didn’t recognize. After a moment, she realized that was because he’d been asleep on Hezbek’s cot for most of the time she’d been here. Deld grinned and waved at her. Devon smiled and continued making eye contact with the others.

  “Are there any of you who are dying to become a cook?” she asked.

  At a nudge from the fighter, Bayle, a slight man with a bulbous nose and oversized ears stood. He took off his felt hat and held it in front of his belly. Even with the hat’s sun protection, he’d earned a livid stripe of sunburn just above the collar of his tunic. Poor guy.

  “It’s all I’ve ever wanted, Your Gloriousness—I mean, sir. Ma’am.”

  Devon sighed. “Anything you want to call me is fine. And that goes for the rest of you, too. Devon, Your Gloriousness, sir, ma’am, whatever. Maybe you could get together and settle on something.”

  The man cleared his throat, flushing brightly around his ears. “I always told my wife…” He gestured toward Bayle. Devon suppressed a reaction—Bayle probably outweighed him by two, maybe three times. “I always told her that if I ever got the chance I could build the most popular restaurant in all of Eltera City. I still dream of that, but… Well, we’re here now.”

  “We are, but there are people here who need to eat, too.”

  “You’re right, Your Glori—Devon. I promise if you give me the job, you won’t be disappointed. I don’t mean to be conceited, but I think my culinary efforts could attract others to our settlement, too. I’d never suggest that others would come just for my cooking, but—”

  “But they’d be fools not to come,” Bayle said. “Tom’s cooking’s the best in the realm. You wouldn’t regret choosing him, Your Gloriousness.”

  “No, I don’t imagine I would.” Population wasn’t something Devon had put much thought to. As they built up the settlement, they would need more citizens.

  The man, Tom, stood with eyes glued to his feet. “Do I… Am I to assume that you…?”

  “You have my blessing. Consider yourself our chef.”

  “Now,” Hezbek said, “can you do something about this disgusting meal?”

  The request wiped the smile off of Tom’s face. “Afraid not. It’s already been cooked to cinders, and I’ve nothing to season it with. But if you can wait until tomorrow, I’ll spend the day foraging. And if it’s all right with you, Your Highness—“ Devon rolled her eyes but gestured for him to continue. “I’d like to reserve a couple pieces of meat for testing—let’s say the snake meat because it needs the most work. I’d like to experiment with a few recipes before dinner service. Find the best flavor combinations given our ingredients.”

  “Granted.” Finally, she glanced at Prester. “I know you’re probably dying to give me an update.”

  The carpenter leaped up and dashed toward the forest, slowing only when he realized she was still climbing to her feet. She hurried to catch him, and together they approached the construction site. Devon had expected two or three finished platforms, but a full five perched in the trees above her head. The villagers had even constructed some rudimentary rope bridges between them.

  “It’s gotten easier with each one,” Prester said. “I gained a skill tier in the process. And my ability to improvise has made me confident when experimenting with ways to speed construction.”

  “That’s fantastic, Prester.”

  Devon inspected the beaming man and indeed noticed that he’d gained a skill tier. More recipes were unlocked, and now she could see the following additions:

  - Finely Hewn Plank

  - Wood Beam

  - Shed, sloped roof

  - Wooden chest, rudimentary

  - Simple door

  - Straight-backed chair

  More notable, though, was his Improvisation score. It was up to 2 points, which was almost equal to hers.

  She clapped him on the shoulder. “Amazing. You’ve outdone yourself.”

  As she reached out to shake his hand, a pop-up appeared.

  You have uncovered a skill in which you have intrinsic aptitude: Leadership (5).

  Skills which are intrinsic start with a value above 0.

  You have gained a skill point: +1 Leadership.

  “Are you still gaining skill with these projects?”

  “Yes, though it’s slow.”

  “Then let’s move on to Finely Hewn Planks tomorrow. I’m sure we’ll have use for them once we have a permanent location for our home. Thank you, Prester.”

  He touched his brow. “Happy to be of service.”

  Together, they headed toward the campfire. Back within the cheery glow of the blaze, Devon scanned the rapidly darkening clearing. The others were relaxing and watching the flames dance, but someone was missing. Again.

  “Where’s Greel?” she asked.

  Many of the tribe members looked around as if shocked to notice him missing, but Grey, the hunter, spoke up. “He headed off toward the ruins,” he said.

  “What? He left now?”

  Grey shrugged. “He does it fairly often. It was something he’d worked out with Uruquat. They’d often speak before Greel left.”

  “He always went in the same direction? Has he left since Uruquat was… removed?”

  “Yup, same direction. And this is the first time he’s left in a while, as far as I know.”

  “Can you show me exactly where he headed out?”

  “Of course.” Grey stood and dusted off his trousers. As Devon stepped in beside him, a call came from the fire.

  “One more thing, Your Gloriousness.”

  Devon turned to see the leatherworker hurrying forward. He carried the sheath she’d requested in one hand and had tucked something under his other arm.

  “Gerrald. How could I
have forgotten the sheath? I’m sorry. I do appreciate your hard work.”

  The leatherworker waved off her apology. “You’ve much to occupy your mind.” He handed over the sheath, which Devon quickly slipped over her belt. The machete slid easily into the cover, and she practiced drawing the blade a couple times before nodding approval.

  “There’s one more thing,” the man said. He pulled the bundle from under his arm and shook it out before handing it over.

  You have received: Snakeskin Vest

  Finely crafted, this vest is sharp! SSSsizzling.

  +2 Intelligence, +1 Cunning | 20 Armor | 25/25 Durability

  She gave a low whistle. “Wow.”

  “I hope you don’t mind. I was without direct requests and thought I should fill my time with—I wanted to thank you, ma’am. You freed us. More, you’ve agreed to guide us.”

  “Thank you, Gerrald.” She examined the vest’s lower hem. “ These etchings—I assume that’s where the added benefits came from. Can you affect all attributes?”

  The man looked consternated by the question. “That’s difficult to answer. You see, I didn’t choose how the item would benefit you, not deliberately. As I was stamping runes into the leather, I just thought about which things most set you apart from Uruquat. I wanted the vest to showcase those strengths.” He shrugged.

  She settled the vest onto her torso. It fit snugly, and already she felt more durable. And… her thoughts seemed to work faster. That part must’ve been her imagination. The game couldn’t actually make her smarter no matter how many points she assigned to Intelligence. But she was happy to pretend, enjoying the buzz that felt like a couple cups of morning coffee.

  “Thank you,” she said. “It’s perfect. And as for those requests you were missing, over the next few days, I’d like you to work on armor for your fellow tribe members. Start with those tribe members with the lowest health and natural armor. Work your way up as you are able.”

  He gave her a little salute. “Will do.”