Outpost: A LitRPG Adventure (Monsters, Maces and Magic Book 1)
Page 24
“Yeah,” Stephi said, practically snarling. “Byeol has a fiancé. She said if she goes back with us, she’ll be alive there, with us.”
“She doesn’t know that,” Derek said.
Stephi rolled her eyes. “How do you know what she does or doesn’t know?”
Kirby’s croaking voice cut in. “What I want to know,” he said, slamming his fist on the floor, “is what you, Lysine, and you, Kalgore, know about why we’re here.”
Glenn met each of the warriors’ eyes. “Me too. You guys know something you’re not sharing.”
“Yeah,” Stephi said. “Knowing why we’re here might help us figure out how to get home.”
Epilogue
Kirby tossed his fishing line into the Snake Claw River. The string, cork bobber and hook hadn’t cost him more than a few iron coins. The pole? He hacked it from a tree with his cutlass, a tree not too distant from the willow he, Glenn and Marigold were resting under. The party had buried Kim under that willow tree, opposite the river.
The Apollo high priest had blessed Kim’s body so that no cleric or magic user wielding necromantic spells could animate her corpse. They dug deep and lined the grave with stones, and covered her body with stones before topping it with soil. Ron used his druidic knowledge and spellcraft to hasten the growth of flowers and grass to conceal the unmarked grave.
They, the five, transported from another world, were the only ones who knew its location. Everyone except Derek had kept a lock of Kim’s straight, dark hair.
The grave and designated fishing spot was less than a half mile from Three Hills City. Stephi said Snake Claw was a stupid name for a river. Nobody argued. Except Kirby said it was a cooler name than Three Hills City.
“I got two worms left,” Kirby said. “No more for your bird.”
Stephi smiled beneath the broad brimmed, straw hat she’d borrowed from Keri. When the abnormally beautiful elf tipped it just right, she could hide most of her face, and avoid stares. Well a lot of stares. There wasn’t much she could do about her abundant chest that didn’t require something long and heavy. The day was too nice for that. Too hot, especially without the willow tree’s shade.
The blue jay whistled and chirped.
Stephi smiled. “He says—”
Glenn cut her off. “He’s saying I should dig more worms.”
Without taking his eyes from his bobber floating in the weak eddy that had carved a small pool into the river bank, Kirby said, “You should’ve gotten a parrot or myna bird for a familiar, so people besides you and Jax could understand him.”
“The GM rolled and…” Stephi’s voice trailed off as she bit her bottom lip. “Do you really believe Kalgore’s story?”
Glenn wasn’t so sure. According to Derek, his older brother stole a bank deposit bag from behind the counter at the occult bookstore near campus. Derek was just there with his brother, looking at crystal necklaces for a girl in his biology class, and didn’t know what his brother was up to.
The GM looked a lot like the owner of the bookstore. Ron surmised an older sibling, and they, meaning him, Kim, Ron, Derek, Glenn and Kirby, were thrown into this aberrant concurrent world for payback.
That didn’t make sense to Glenn. The main culprit wasn’t among those sent to this world. Ron said he and everyone else, except for Derek, was collateral damage.
Derek said he and his brother spent the money on spring break, and they were both pretty much broke.
Glenn plucked a broad blade of grass and began tearing it into shreds, trying to decide if he believed Derek’s story, or at least his version of it. “Sending a bunch of people to an alternate reality or world,” Glenn said, not able to remember exactly what Ron called it. “Just for stealing some money. Seems pretty extreme.”
Kirby shrugged, still watching his bobber. “My dad’s a cop. He says people kill other people for a lot less than what Derek’s brother stole. Sometimes for ten bucks worth of drugs, or for being disrespected.”
“I think Kalgore was in on stealing the money more than he admits,” Stephi said, rubbing Petie’s throat with her finger. Her familiar’s favorite perch seemed to be on her left shoulder.
Glenn asked Kirby, “Do you really agree with Lysine, that a Transport Spell won’t work?”
“Yeah, dude. That spell transports you from one place to another place instantly, sure. But not from like one plane of existence to another.” He shrugged. “Even if it did work, think about it. We’d probably just be transported back like we are. Same if we got someone to Plane Walk us back—assuming we could find someone who could find our world.”
Kirby laughed. “Me and you, Glenn, could become carnies, or get a job in a freak show.” He glanced back over his shoulder, up at Marigold, leaning against the willow tree’s trunk. “You could probably be a movie star, Marigold. Being an elf, you’d be young for centuries.”
“Do you see these?” she said, lifting her breasts.
Kirby looked back at his bobber, his head ducking a little.
Stephi laughed. “Movies? Probably in the porn industry.”
The three sat in silence.
“Freak show or not,” Glenn said, “at least we’d be home.”
Kirby shrugged his shoulders. “I know you all are really focused on it, and I’ll help anyway I can, but…”
Glenn knew. Kirby wasn’t happy with his life back in the real world. Maybe it was because he was a young teen, and in the alternate world he was an adult, and free from whatever problems he had. If he was willing to exchange that life for this one…
Stephi pulled off her boots and socks, and stretched out her long legs. “I wish we knew if Derek’s brother will repay the money he stole—if that’s the reason for us getting stuck here.” She sighed. “If It’d get us back.”
“What’d you say?” Kirby asked, his voice sounding distracted.
I said, “I wish we—”
Kirby yanked back on his fishing pole, hooking a fish. “That’s it!”
Glenn discarded the shredded piece of grass and got to his feet. “Good work.”
“No,” Kirby said, standing and lifting the fourteen-inch catfish out of the water. “Wish! A Wish Spell!”
“The game has those?” Glenn asked.
“Sure,” the half-goblin thief said, the excitement draining from his face and his voice.
Stephi was on her feet too. “What is it, Gurk?”
“Well, wishes, they’re like pretty much impossible to get.”
“Pretty much impossible?” she asked.
“Well, I think you need to be like a twentieth rank magic user,” he said, “to even have a chance of casting one. And it’s probably a rare spell. Anyone who has it won’t share.”
Stories and movies, even kids’ movies, came to Glenn’s mind. “What about a jeanie in a bottle?”
“Yeah, I suppose,” Kirby said. “But creatures like that, they’re not really on your side. They’ll twist whatever you wish for.”
Undeterred, Glenn pushed aside thoughts of the horror movies he’d seen with wish spells as a driving plot element. “What if we think it through and word the wish carefully?”
“Maybe,” Kirby said. “I think the Game Master Guide has rings of wishes too.”
Marigold lunged forward, grabbed Kirby and embraced him in a crushing hug. “You’re so brilliant, my little man!”
Kirby dropped his fishing pole. The catfish flopped on the ground several feet from the water. His hands braced against the buxom elf’s stomach as he tied to push away. His muffled voice complained, “I can’t breathe.”
“Grab your fish,” Stephi said to Kirby after releasing him. “Jax, you’re riding piggy back.”
“What for?” Glenn asked, not thrilled with the idea.
“Because, Jax, I wanna get back to town and see what Lysine thinks.”
The End
If you enjoyed Outpost, try Flank Hawk, book one of the First Civilization’s Legacy series.
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Books by Terry W. Ervin II
Monsters, Maces and Magic
Outpost
Betrayal
Crax War Chronicles
Relic Tech
Relic Hunted
First Civilization’s Legacy
Flank Hawk
Blood Sword
Soul Forge
Stand-Alone
Thunder Wells
Collections
Genre Shotgun
Dane Maddock Kindle World Adventures
Rock House
Cavern
About the Author
Terry W. Ervin II is an English teacher who enjoys writing Fantasy and Science Fiction. He is the author of the Crax War Chronicles, the First Civilization’s Legacy Series, and Genre Shotgun, a collection of his previously published short stories.
When Terry isn’t writing or enjoying time with his wife and daughters, he can be found in his basement raising turtles. To contact Terry, or to learn more about his writing endeavors, visit his website at http://www.ervin-author.comor his blog, Up Around the Corner.