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

by Carrie Summers

  “We have to hurry back. Explain on the way.”

  Hazel chewed her lip. “Actually, I should explain here. You see, late last evening, Grey noticed something that brought back old memories. He nudged me and pointed to Greel. The man was slipping toward the edge of the village, just like he used to leave Uruquat’s camp when night fell. Back then, I was just a simple worker. I couldn’t follow. But now…”

  Devon clapped her hands on top of her head like a runner just finishing a race. Why had she trusted the man?

  “I’m guessing you followed him.”

  Hazel nodded. “He headed back toward the old camp. I followed long enough to see him meet with a small group of men. I counted four, though there could have been more.”

  “Did you get their names?”

  “One of them, at least. The one I knew you cared about. Henrik is here. And he told Greel there’s an army on the way. The lawyer just needed to show him where to march it.”

  Devon felt sick. After everything she’d done, she’d been betrayed by one of her own. She swallowed hard and tucked the pendant back beneath her shirt. “Take me to them. If we can take out Greel and Henrik before they reach the village, maybe we can save Stonehaven.”

  ***

  Devon crouched in the brush. She watched as Greel walked at the front of a small procession, hacking his way through foliage with the Superior Steel Knife she’d given him. He stepped onto the open ground of the quarry and swiped the sweat from his forehead while he waited for Henrik and the other members of the advanced party.

  “We’ve taken stone from here,” Greel said. “But as you can see, there’s quite a bit of material remaining. If you come this way—” He gestured toward the foot of the cliffs. “You can see there’s also a nice vein of moss agate that will provide additional funding for our search for the relics.”

  As Henrik broke off from the small group and followed Greel to the base of the escarpment, Devon clenched her fists.

  She understood now what people meant when they said they saw red. Just looking at the slimy lawyer made her ready for murder. After showing his boss the quarry, she had no doubt Greel would lead the man through the braided trails that now led between the rock outcroppings and the village. Right now, she and Hazel were hidden at the edge of the forest nearest the village. When the small party approached, she’d make her move.

  She activated her Combat Assessment, focusing on the pair of men. Greel had been practicing, no doubt in secret. He was now level 13. And Henrik was a level 15 rogue. Lovely.

  “This is all fine and well,” Henrik said. “But the point of this little adventure is you showing me the way to your quaint little village. I can’t have competition—however inept—in my hunt for the relics.”

  A strange expression crossed Greel’s face, but he quickly covered it.

  Feeling a hint of conscience? Devon wondered.

  “If you’re so eager, then let’s get on with it,” Greel said. “But I must ask your men to remain here so that you and I can discuss business arrangements. You see, in exchange for this valuable service, I’ll need a much better position in your organization. It’s me that’s making your plans possible.”

  Henrik glanced at his men. “My associates are discreet. You need not worry about negotiating in front of them.”

  “As a legal professional, I must insist on discussing these terms in private.”

  “Oh for Zaa’s sake. Fine. Whatever.”

  As Greel led the man toward Devon’s hiding spot, he cast a triumphant look at the other henchmen. The men bristled and laid hands on their blades.

  Devon would need to be quick. Beneath the canopy, her Glowing Orbs would give her away. Waving Hazel back, she drew a deep breath and cast Levitate. The men stepped into the shade of the forest.

  With a yell, Greel drew his blade. He must have glimpsed her.

  Frantic, Devon summoned an orb and slapped it against a tree. The others followed. A breath later, six Shadow Puppets sprouted from the ground. She ordered them forward as Greel sprang.

  And plunged his knife into Henrik’s back.

  The man staggered, his health cut in half by the sneak attack damage. Devon’s eyes grew wide as her shadows dove at the pair. She tried to recall them, but it was too late. Lightning forked and crackled and arced from the dark figures, glowing and sparking across the men’s bodies. In an instant, both Greel and Henrik’s health bars dropped to zero.

  Shouts erupted across the clearing, the henchmen jumping into action.

  Devon sent more shadows at them, almost as an afterthought. They died screaming, but she couldn’t take her eyes from the sight near her feet.

  Greel, reluctant ally, lay unmoving on the muddy trail near the forest’s edge. She let the levitation spell drop and staggered forward, laying her fingers on his neck to feel for a pulse.

  Nothing.

  Tears welling, she stooped and picked him up and began carrying him back to Stonehaven.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  DEVON LAID GREEL’S body beside the shrine in a shaft of golden mid-morning sun. One hand clutching the Greenscale Pendant, the other resting on his shoulder, she listened to the birdsong filling the jungle.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I should have trusted you.”

  Sometime during the stumble back between the quarry and the village, she’d sent Hazel to retrieve items from Henrik’s and his henchmen’s bodies, then to recruit others to help clean up the corpses surrounding the collapsed temple. The bone baubles would need to be destroyed to keep them from passing the curse on to new creatures. Idly, she wondered how long a body stayed around before the game removed it from the world. Eventually, she supposed, she would have her answer when Greel dissolved into nothing.

  After some time sitting in isolated silence, she saw Bayle approaching. The woman held out an item Devon hadn’t seen in quite a while.

  You have received: Rusty Knife.

  This blade looks as if it has opened many letters over the years. Perhaps while in a swamp?

  1-3 Damage | 0/10 Durability

  “Doesn’t really cut anymore,” the fighter said. “But it seemed right to return it to him.”

  “Thank you,” Devon said, setting the knife in the grass beside the fallen lawyer.

  After Bayle left, it was quiet again until Hezbek hopped over the stream, clothing flapping, muttering to herself.

  “Well, child, you accomplished everything I set you to,” the medicine woman said quietly.

  “Wasn’t worth it if this was the cost,” Devon mumbled.

  “Maybe not. But done is done, and we are stronger and safer for your efforts.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Listen, I know you’re grieving, but I’d like to talk to you about something. Sometimes, a small distraction can help soothe the pain.”

  Devon sighed and ran her hands through her hair before turning her attention to the woman.

  Hezbek glanced toward the small alcove where the captive was bound and sleeping. “Given what we learned about this so-called army Henrik was bringing into the jungle, I imagine we’ll find a use for that fellow. He’s been softening toward us lately. With the right motivation, I think we could extract useful information. Or better, get him to lead us to where the army might encamp. Of course, that won’t work if we have to keep dumping potions down his throat.”

  “But we don’t know how to cure the poison.”

  Blushing ever so slightly, Hezbek dug into her belt pouch and pulled out one of the Ivory Fangs. “You sort of left your stuff scattered around my hut when you unloaded your bag. Might want to consider building your own cabin at some point. Anyway, I’ve been gaining skill, and with a sample of the toxin, I think I can brew up an antidote. I wanted to ask your permission before I took a scraping off this.”

  Devon shrugged. “That’s fine. Speaking of, I’ve meant to ask you… How do I identify items?”

  �
��It’s not as easy as you might hope. Most cities have a guild of magic scholars who offer the service. A few very powerful wizards can do it as well. I’ve recently heard that engineers can build a device.”

  “In other words, I won’t know much about those fangs anytime soon.”

  Hezbek shrugged. “Precise information, no. But I can sense a few things about it—you’ll likely develop the same knack as your sorcery improves.”

  “What do you sense?”

  “Well, for starters, the captive’s wound was caused by necrotic damage. Nasty stuff.”

  Like a wet fish to the face, the memory of dying to the bog serpent queen’s necrotic cloud smacked her.

  Devon groaned. “Please tell me it’s possible to gain resistance to necrotic damage…”

  The woman gave her a strange look. “I don’t see why it wouldn’t be…?”

  “Never mind. Bad experience in another… another life I suppose.”

  Hezbek looked down at Greel’s body and gently touched the man’s brow.

  “You know,” she said, “Greel is with Veia now. Perhaps it would give you some peace to commune with the shrine. Not really the same as sharing a mug of ale with the man, but he was never one for camaraderie anyway.”

  As the woman stood to go, she planted a kiss on the tips of her fingers and pressed them onto the crown of Devon’s head. “You did good,” she said. “And it will get easier.”

  “Thanks, Hezbek,” Devon said as the woman walked away.

  Standing, Devon laid her palms on the sun-warmed stone of the shrine. As she closed her eyes, an interface popped up. The text on the popup was echoed in her mind in a soothing female voice.

  Welcome to the Shrine of Veia, offering blessings and boons to the faithful.

  What is your desire?

  The idea flashed to mind immediately. Devon was almost afraid to say it.

  “I seek resurrection.”

  The interface disappeared, replaced by a field of glowing motes that swirled as the voice continued to speak.

  “You wish to restore a non-starborn, the recently deceased Greel, I assume.”

  “Yes, please.”

  The motes circled and danced. “Occasionally, an advanced NPC can be brought back to the world if the death was sudden and of unnatural causes. But you should know, many who have passed on do not wish to return.”

  “Greel had friends here. We miss him. Can you tell him that?”

  “I can convey the information, and perhaps the rebirth can be accomplished. But you must bring specific offerings to the shrine. For magic this potent, the required items will be more notable than a couple of coppers or a whispered prayer. Are you prepared to submit the offerings?”

  “I—I think so.” She clutched the Greenscale Pendant tight, hoping desperately that the shrine wanted something else.

  “Very well then. Sometimes a boon requires sacrificing things dear to yourself. In this case, they are dear to the deceased. I require a rusty knife, a sample of Carpavan Legalese, and a sincere apology from Devon Gloriousness for being such a jerk and not trusting Greel.”

  Devon laughed. “Are you in there, Greel?”

  “I am a shard of Veia, and all who have died are now in communion with her. So yes.”

  Animated with more energy than her fatigue bar should have allowed, Devon dashed back to Hezbek’s hut to grab the Folded Parchment she’d looted from Uruquat’s corpse. Hezbek looked up from her inspection of the fang and started to speak.

  “I’ll explain later,” Devon said as she shut the door and ran for the shrine. On the way, she opened the parchment and verified it was the document describing the ownership of Ishildar.

  “All right,” she said, setting the knife and the parchment on the shrine. “One rusty knife, a sample of Carpavan Legalese, and an apology. Greel, I am truly, deeply sorry. I acted too quickly when I should have trusted you. It won’t happen again.”

  “Now dance like a chicken,” the shrine said.

  Rolling her eyes, she glanced toward the village to make sure no one was watching. She flapped her elbows and let out a few bawks.

  The shrine glowed. At her feet, Greel’s corpse jerked to life. He glared at her as he sat up. “If it’s not obvious, I saw smoke from their campfire. Went to check it out and figured I had to do something to get Henrik alone and take care of him. But then you decided to murder me.”

  “It’s good to see you too, Greel,” she said with a smirk.

  ***

  Devon logged out for some much-needed sleep, but when she next entered the game, the Stonehaven League was waiting for her.

  And they were ready for a massive kegger.

  It was the first time she’d tried dwarven grog, and she took an unfortunate tumble into the stream. Wet Superior Medium Armor was not very comfortable.

  After that, she kept her Everfull Waterskin close at hand, holding it up and shaking her head whenever someone offered her a mug of ale. The party lasted from late afternoon until well into the night, the flames from a bonfire pulling the villagers close as the moon rose over the jungle.

  Devon sat on a stump, glad for the heat and the companionship. She slipped the Greenscale Pendant from beneath her tunic and examined it. Over the last day, it had gained a new stat: 1% Attuned. Seemed she had a while before she learned what power it would offer.

  In the late hours of the night, Hezbek approached with the captive. The man gave a grudging thanks for healing his wound then sat and held his palms before the fire. Devon examined him and learned that his name was Jarleck, he was a level 13 Brawler, and surprisingly, he held her in slightly above neutral esteem. Maybe she could make an ally of him after all.

  As she watched the dancing flames, she wondered what the coming weeks would bring. A search for another relic? An invading army? An influx of players?

  “Hey, wisp?” she called.

  The glowing ball descended from the canopy and circled her head. So far, it seemed to hover close enough to hear her, but far enough that it wasn’t annoyingly in her vision all the time.

  “Do you have a name?”

  “The lich only ever called me Pet.”

  “Hmm. Not really my style. Is there a name you’d like to be known by?”

  “Not really.”

  The orb bobbed in the air, dancing back and forth.

  “Well, then I guess I’ll have to call you Bob.”

  “If it makes you happy, sounds good to me.”

  “So, Bob, how do we find the next relic?”

  “Not a clue.”

  With a shrug, Devon straightened her legs and went back to watching the fire. For tonight, that was enough.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  EMERSON LEFT ANOTHER text message for Devon. She hadn’t been answering, probably because she was spending every waking moment in the game. As far as he could tell, she hadn’t even connected to the messaging program in the past week, though he couldn’t be as certain about that as he was about her play time, something he’d verified with customer support.

  He was about to break his own rules and create a character just to get her to answer him.

  Or worse, hack into a device in her apartment and take control of a speaker.

  He brought up the report from customer service and read it again.

  A handful of players were now reporting increased pain. All power-leveled or otherwise distinguished. All hardcore gamers.

  All living alone.

  He flipped to the other disturbing message, the note from one of his all-stars, Owen.

  Or rather, from Owen’s girlfriend who had connected to the messenger program with Owen’s mobile phone. She’d come over to meet him for dinner and had found him non-responsive.

  Owen was now in a coma in an Atlanta hospital.

  He sent Devon another message, peppered with enough attention-getting emoji it almost hurt his eyes to read it back. The text part was simple: Please log out
and call me.

  He waited for five minutes, pacing back and forth.

  “Emerson?” Mini-Veia asked through his condo speakers. “You seem agitated. Might I suggest a gym membership to promote relaxation?”

  “Deactivate home assistance,” he snapped.

  After another ten minutes, Devon still hadn’t responded. Emerson balled his fist, smacked the door jamb, then winced and shook his hand.

  “Actually,” he said. “Activate home assistance. Veia, please buy me a hyperloop ticket to Las Vegas and order an autocab to take me from there to St. George, Utah.”

  He already had one comatose player on his hands. He would not let Devon become the next victim.

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you had as much fun reading Temple of Sorrow as I did writing it! For many years, I worked as a programmer on MMORPG titles, and getting to bring my gamer/programmer self together with my author self is awesome. The next book in the Stonehaven League series will be out late spring or early summer 2018.

  Interested in playing a little Relic Online yourself? While I can’t promise full immersion VR anytime soon, would like to invite you create a character and join in some interactive story-telling. I’m super excited about the project, and the more people I have on board, the more fun it will be. Head to www.carriesummers.com/enter-relic-online/ and create your login.

  One last thing. You probably already know how important reviews are to an author’s career. We’re utterly dependent on them to succeed. Please consider leaving a review for this book and others that you enjoy. To find more awesome books and authors in this genre and to connect with a community of fans, check out this Facebook group.

  Thank you so much!

  --Carrie

  carrie@carriesummers.com

  PS. Check out my author profile on Amazon to see my fantasy series.