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

by Carrie Summers

  Shadow Puppets raised in the sun and moonlight were awesome in combat, giving her the chance to challenge herself with multi-mob encounters, even if she avoided those where she might get hit hard. But as for the lightning shadow, she wasn’t ready to test her theory on wet versus dry ground. Anyway, between her Flamestrike spell, her dagger, and her Shadow Puppets, she’d started to feel like a one-woman war machine. Even if her hopes for summoning a horde of shadows by using sorcerer spells that created different types of light never worked out as she’d hoped, she could see that her class combo was more than a little overpowered. Especially when used cleverly.

  When she dinged 8, she decided to wait to spend more attribute points until she’d tried a few more challenging encounters. Hezbek taught her the Freeze spell, which encased mobs in ice. As a celebration, she gathered the tribe. She cast Shadow Puppets and molded them into fantastic shapes before freezing them, leaving a garden of ice sculptures that were soon chipped apart and used to chill ale. Soon after encamping, the dwarves had made it a priority to set up their brewing casks. Some sort of dwarven magic made the ale crafting process go much faster than Devon would have expected, and the nightly campfires had no shortage of grog.

  Toward the end of her week of leveling, Gerrald presented her with a new pair of trousers.

  You have received: Boar Hide Leggings

  These are definitely more fashionable than the snakeskin vest. Well done.

  1 Agility +2 Charisma | 30 Armor | 25/25 Durability

  Of course, the added Charisma combined with a pair of tight leather pants earned her another few days of stares until her followers once again got used to her shocking good looks. But the bonuses were worth it. She almost wanted to strut.

  All in all, it was one of the best weeks of Devon’s life.

  Unfortunately, on the day the final roof was raised on the crafting workshop, prompting the dwarves to crack an extra cask of ale, the shit hit the fan.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  DEVON HEARD SHOUTING from the edge of the camp. She gave a quick nod of apology to Prester who was showing her a couple features of the crafting workshop and dashed toward the edge of the glade. Two small groups staggered into the filtered light of the camp. Devon’s pulse sped when she saw Deld shuffling forward, clutching his shoulder. Bern walked on one side of the stonemason while Bayle followed a step or two behind. A couple dozen paces behind the trio of humans, Dorden struggled forward, arm around Heldi, his mate and the dwarf who had threatened Devon with her crossbow back on the night of their meeting.

  Devon gasped as the pair drew closer. Heldi was doubled over her gut, hands clutching the shaft of an arrow. The front of her chainmail shirt was soaked with blood. Devon caught Dorden’s eye, searching for an explanation. The patriarch stared back, grim-faced.

  Devon whirled. “Fetch Hezbek! Tell her to bring healing potions!”

  The groups staggered to a stop at the informal boundary between camps. Devon sprinted over, shaking her head in shock. “What happened? Ambush? Who shot you?”

  Bayle’s face was ashen, almost as if she’d been struck. But she had no visible wounds. Dorden simply looked at Devon and growled. Devon blinked, confused, while the dwarf turned toward his camp and bellowed. “Thunnold! Get out here! Heldi’s hurt.”

  Hezbek arrived, clothing flapping, satchel clinking. She quickly glanced at the two injuries, pulled a pair of potions out of her satchel, and tossed one of the clay pots to Devon. She gestured with her eyes for Devon to take care of Deld while she ran to help Heldi, who was clearly in worse shape.

  Devon unstoppered the pot and placed it against the Deld’s lips. The man swallowed and grimaced at the taste. Moments later, he began to sway. His hand dropped from his shoulder, giving Devon a peek at the wound before the skin began to knit. As best she could tell, an arrowhead had nicked the outside of the muscle, passing through without becoming lodged. Deld slumped against Bern who picked the man up and started trudging for Deld’s hut.

  “Going to lay him down,” he said. Bayle followed behind, eyes darting. Devon watched them go, confused by the fighter’s behavior, before turning her attention to the dwarves.

  Hezbek had already administered a potion, and Heldi’s color was better. The medicine woman examined the arrow lodged in the dwarf’s belly.

  “I’m going to cut the head off and pull it out the way it went in,” she said. The dwarf woman was already unconscious, head lolling. Her body slumped forward like a ragdoll as Dorden went down on a knee and laid her across his thigh. Hezbek pulled out a small blade and sliced through the arrow shaft, then grabbed the fletching and yanked it free. Heldi moaned, and a bit of blood welled.

  “She’ll need more healing once she sleeps off the effects of this one,” Hezbek said.

  Dorden growled, and for some reason glared in the direction of the tribe’s camp. “Will she live?”

  Hezbek nodded as she smoothed the dwarf woman’s hair. “I believe so, but it will take time.”

  “Dorden, what happened?” Devon said.

  The dwarf simply looked at her and shook his head. “We’ll talk of this later. Perhaps once I’m sure that my mate will survive.”

  ***

  She found Bayle and Bern inside Deld’s hut. The stonemason was resting peacefully now, his wound scabbed over and hardly noticeable. Bern stood protectively over the man while Bayle crouched in the corner, fingers tapping her knee.

  “Will you please explain what happened?” Devon asked as she laid a hand on Deld’s shin, assuring herself the man was okay.

  Bayle and Bern shared a glance. “I’ll do it,” the woman said. The big man nodded and stalked to the door. He peered out, then let the door flap fall and took a seat on the floor.

  The fighter took a deep breath before speaking. “Everything went as normal for most of the day, your—Devon. The dwarves brought me along for guard duty at the quarry, and Dorden had loaned me a short bow for practice.”

  Devon nodded. The dwarves had been helping Bayle and Falwon, the camp’s fighters, increase their skills.

  “All right, then what happened?”

  “Well, while Bern was freeing a stone block, he exposed a vein of moss agate.”

  Bern nodded. “It caused the block to fracture wrong. Cost me a couple hours of work.”

  “A vein? The dwarves said limestone wasn’t good for—”

  “Not for the metals they usually seek, but agate is one of the gem types that occurs in it.” Bern shrugged. “Or so Dorden said.”

  “You should’ve seen the dwarves’ faces,” Bayle said, picking up the tale again. “Their eyes were wider than the tops of ale casks. They said jewel crafters and enchanters would pay a hefty price for agate. Especially moss agate, which is known for its nature-based magical properties.”

  Devon had an idea where this was going. “They didn’t try to take it from you, did they?”

  Bern pointed to Deld’s rucksack. “We have samples in there. No, they didn’t try to take anything. Dorden was mumbling about asking your permission to work the vein and divide the profits, but that’s all I heard. Until…” He glanced at Deld.

  “Go on,” Devon said.

  Bayle swallowed. “We left the quarry early because we thought you’d want to know about the discovery. We were about halfway back when Deld yelped and grabbed his shoulder. It was confusing for a minute, until I saw the blood and recognized it as an arrow wound. Or… a crossbow bolt.”

  Devon blinked in shock.

  Bern swallowed. “It was so unexpected, we didn’t know how to react at first. All three of us turned to look. The dwarves were behind us on the trail. Heldi uses a crossbow, you know.”

  “Did she look like she’d done it?”

  Bayle grabbed fistfuls of her hair. “That’s the thing, I’m not sure. Everything happened so fast. Deld definitely got hit, and I didn’t know what to do. I drew on Heldi just in case, but I didn’t intend anything else.”


  Devon swallowed. This was not good. “Did you look at the crossbow? Did it have a bolt loaded?”

  “I—yes, actually. I think so. I was pretty sure the shot came from her. Still am… I think. What other explanation is there?”

  “So you drew on her, and then?”

  “Dorden pulled out that hammer of his and stepped closer, and I started shaking. I was terrified, to be honest. They’re both better fighters than me. Together, they’d crush me. I knew I had to protect Deld and Bern. But I swear, I didn’t shoot her on purpose. I was trying to talk to them to figure out what had happened, and my fingers slipped. I felt the string twang. Saw the arrow sink into her gut.”

  Bayle dropped her head into her hands. Bern crossed the small room and laid a hand on her shoulder. After a moment, she swallowed and collected herself. She raised her head and continued.

  “Dorden was red in the face, looking between Heldi and me. Somehow, I don’t know what trick he used, but Bern managed to talk him down. Heldi was already bleeding bad, and Bern mentioned seeing to the injuries before anyone died unnecessarily.” She took a shaky breath. “So that’s it. I’m sorry, Devon.”

  Devon chewed her lip. The situation sounded to her like a series of mistakes. She didn’t think the dwarves would turn on them like that, not before at least asking for the agate. The truth was, Devon would be more than happy to split any proceeds. But she’d heard plenty of tales about dwarven thirst for riches. She couldn’t completely deny that they had motive.

  “Remind me again, how far away was this?”

  “About halfway to the quarry,” Bern said.

  Devon nodded. “I need you to take me there. Before this goes any further, there’s one piece of information we have to track down. We need to find the arrow or crossbow bolt that struck Deld.”

  Bern stood. “I’m ready to go as soon as you need me.”

  Devon stepped outside and waved down Hezbek as the medicine woman returned from the dwarf encampment. Hezbek blinked nervously as she hurried over. “Something’s got the dwarves riled.”

  “Indeed. And possibly with good reason. I’m working on it, but I need to track down some information. How long until Heldi wakes?”

  “She’ll come around briefly in about a day,” Hezbek said. “But I’ll need to dose her with another potion right away. It will be two or three days before she’s fully recovered.”

  Devon nodded. “Do what you can to keep the peace. Tell Dorden I promise to make this right. But be careful… Find Greel and tell him to keep an eye on the dwarves. Hopefully he can manage that.”

  The medicine woman looked like she wanted to ask more questions, but she simply nodded and headed deeper into the camp. With Bern following behind, Devon searched the glade until she spotted Hazel. The little scout was whittling with a kitchen knife, carving a crude figure. Devon made a mental note to offer the woodworking trade to the woman someday.

  “Are you rested enough to head out?” she asked.

  Hazel jumped to her feet and self-consciously dropped her hands to her side. “Of course, Your Gloriousness.”

  “Good. I may need your tracking skill. We’ll follow Bern. Keep alert for threats.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  THE TRAIL BETWEEN the camp and quarry was a few feet wide with leaves and grass trampled into the mud. It seemed like regular passage kept trails through the jungle cleared, which was nice. Even nicer, the paths that didn’t get used quickly became overgrown. Devon had been worried that Henrik’s people would be able to follow their route from Uruquat’s original camp to the new glade, but already, she’d noticed that the trail between the old camp and the quarry was nearly invisible.

  In any case, the cleared track should help her find the missing arrow without too much trouble.

  When they arrived at the scene of the altercation, she realized she hadn’t needed Bern to guide her. The site was clearly marked by sticky blood that spattered the leaf litter. Devon brushed a strand of hair from her forehead then pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay, let’s find this arrow.”

  With the tip of her dagger, she started pushing back the brush at the edge of the trail, looking beneath leaves. Judging by the angle of the shot, the bolt or arrow wouldn’t have landed far from the trail. After a few minutes searching, she pulled out her old machete and started hacking away the undergrowth.

  “Something’s bothering me, Your Gloriousness,” Bern said. He was standing in the middle the trail, head cocked.

  “What’s that?”

  “Well… Bayle dropped her bow after she accidentally shot Heldi. I wasn’t thinking because I was so worried for Deld and Heldi, but I’m pretty sure she didn’t retrieve it before we left the area.”

  “But it’s not here…” Devon said. A cold feeling was building in her gut. As she took a deep breath to return to the search, Hazel stood from the thicket. “Found it!” she chirped, holding up a long-shafted arrow.

  Devon nodded. That was definitely not a crossbow bolt.

  Immediately, memories surged. How many times had she run across a room full of monsters, too many for her to take on alone, and started using the game mechanics against the mobs? In almost every MMO in existence, you could often pit enemies against one another by causing them to mistakenly damage each other. It worked particularly well against monsters of low intelligence or—like in the case of Devon’s alliance with the Stoneshoulder Clan—when the mobs were grouped into different races or factions.

  It wasn’t hard to envision how the same thing could have happened here. One or two players, too low-level to take on a band of five dwarves and humans, had spotted the group. One of the players had shot Deld but made it seem as if the strike had come from the dwarves. The plan had almost worked, too. If Dorden had attacked Bayle and Bern, it would have left most of the group injured or dead. Afterward, the players would be left to mop up, taking the loot and experience for themselves.

  She couldn’t be sure that’s what had happened, but it seemed likely. Players would definitely have picked up an abandoned short bow, whereas NPCs might not have.

  Devon shook her head in frustration. She should have anticipated this moment. Players would find the jungle and the ruins of Ishildar eventually. But she’d let herself get too comfortable with her NPC tribe. And she knew how players thought… They wouldn’t see her tribe members as people. Sure, some gamers were reluctant to kill friendly humanoids, if only because they didn’t want to lose esteem with certain factions. But given what had happened here, the person or people who planned this ambush didn’t care about that. And most of her tribe members would be sitting ducks without the dwarves to defend them.

  She took a deep breath. First things first, she needed to warn the camp. Then she had to verify the attackers’ identities and figure out where they’d gone.

  “Hazel, I want you to find the shooters’ trail. Stay close and don’t risk yourself. I’ll be back in just a few minutes after I escort Bern to safety.”

  With that, she set off at a trot, the quarryman at her heels.

  ***

  “No one leaves the camp until I return, got it? Tell Hezbek and Greel.”

  Bern nodded as he slipped down the trail and entered the glade. Devon watched for a minute, listening for any sounds of trouble inside the glade, then spun. She hoped that if players decided to attack the camp while she was gone, the dwarves would come to her tribe’s defense. At the very least, their canvas shelters were the first buildings any players would encounter, a fact that would bring the dwarves into the fray regardless. She hated to think of her allies that way, as bait for potential player attacks. But they weren’t part of her tribe. Not yet. And with what had happened today, maybe not ever.

  After hearing no sounds of conflict, she doubled back toward the quarry. When she reached the scene of the fight, Hazel materialized from the brush. Devon jumped and let out a shaky laugh. At least she didn’t have to worry about her scout being easily d
etected.

  “Did you find a trail?”

  Hazel nodded. “They followed this path back to the quarry and then set out in a different direction.”

  “Lead on,” Devon said.

  Beyond the quarry, the attackers had hacked their way through the jungle much like Devon had done for the last weeks. She doubted they liked it any more than she did. Unfortunately, though, the dense growth hadn’t been enough to keep them away. She squeezed the hilt of her dagger. Stupid players.

  “This area sucks, dude.”

  Devon stiffened when she heard the voice filtering through the undergrowth. Soon after, a curl of smoke reached her nose. She motioned Hazel back, and the woman retreated without complaint.

  “Yeah, but we came all this way. There’s got to be something more interesting than a couple stray dwarves out here.”

  “Those ruins looked kinda cool.”

  “Yeah, if you feel like fighting a stone giant. Anyway, let’s give it a couple more game days before we bail, eh?”

  Devon crept closer and spotted the two figures crouching before a small fire. The bigger of the pair, a warrior judging by his gear, held a stick over the flames. Shapeless meat clung to it.

  “There’s got to be something in all this jungle. Otherwise, why waste the real estate?” the other player continued. Devon didn’t know enough about the classes to be sure, but he had a mace holstered at his side and white vestments beneath a chain shirt. A cleric? Seemed a likely duo to set out together.

  The warrior rotated the stick. “Yeah, I guess. Even if the city’s over our heads, there’s got to be some mini-dungeons around.”

  Devon stiffened at the thought. She’d been so concerned about her tribe that she hadn’t even considered the other problem players presented. She glanced at her quest log and the mission to find the Greenscale Pendant. She hadn’t been focusing on the search because she’d assumed she’d get to it eventually. But if players found it first, it totally hosed her plans.