Stolen Lives: A LitRPG/GameLit Novel (The Underhill Chronicles Book 1) by Keith Ahrens (interesting novels to read .TXT) 📕

as we needed it to. I climb down to the ground and pull my pistol out again. The Gnolls have moved on from the top of the wagons, and I hear growls mixed with the sounds of battle up ahead.

“Olivia, cover the wagons and try to get everyone loaded. We'll get the horses loose and clear up any more defenders,” I yell over the sounds of combat all around us.

She nods and begins barking orders to the newcomers.

Revolver raised in front of me, I turn the corner of the wagon and move forward. I step cautiously as I near the agitated horses. I'd hate to get kicked or trampled to death right now. It sure would ruin our dramatic escape.

Ahead of me, between the second and third wagons, I see a large bow smoldering in the mud. Next to it is what looks like the bow's owner lying on the ground. I approach him with caution, but after only a second, I realize he's not much of a threat. A bullet hole is clear to see through his leather chest plate. I glance up and find Jesse leaning over the edge of the wall, lining up another shot. From where I am, I cannot see his next target.

From Jesse's position, I trace the angle a bullet would have traveled to hit this elf. Add that to the entry hole, and I have an educated guess of its internal trajectory. It looks like the bullet passed through a lung and probably the spleen. This guy is as good as dead but doesn't know it yet. I give him a wide berth just in case and move on.

Sounds of fighting come from before me. Just past the wagon I am hiding behind, a brawl rages. Grayson, in his mud-spattered black armor, is locked in combat with an ogre. The evil Fey has about two feet of height on the Berserker, but they seem almost matched in strength. Spiked club and double-bladed ax meet in midair with a resounding crash; sparks fly where the metal connects.

The weapons twist together, immobile and ineffective. Grayson, despite his solid legs and straining back, begins to slide backward in the mud. His feet dig deep furrows as he nears the thrashing horses, still panicking and attached to a wagon. As I get closer, I take aim with the little .38, but then Grayson makes a move no one expects.

With a final push, he forces the ax and club up into the air and dives forward. His spiked shoulder plate impales the ogre's midsection as he wraps his large arms around the Fey's hips.

With one ferocious shout, he lifts the ogre up and heaves him over his head. Grayson lands on his back as the monstrous body slams into the side of a hysterical horse and snaps its tether. The horse, trapped in the traces with its three fellows, leaps into the air, causing the others to begin bucking. It lands on the chest of the ogre, crushing the monster's ribs. Its iron shoes leave crescent burns in the ogre's exposed skin. The frightened animal continues stomping and bucking long past the point where the ogre is crushed into a meaty mud-mixed paste.

All at once, the four horses surge forward in their harness and pull the wagon with a jolt, the handbrake snapping. The horses crash into the other tethered beasts in front of them, snapping their tethers as well. The wagon, of course, follows and knocks a few more mounts down. General chaos ensues as further shots ring out, the rest of the horses losing their minds.

Now, I've never seen an actual stampede before, and I'm not sure if they generally involve wagons, but I'm pretty sure this is the real thing. In an effort not to get trampled, I try to jump onto the driver's bench of the nearest coach, but I miss by a few inches. It should not come as a surprise to me; I’ve never been known for my impressive vertical leap. I guess I can always blame it on the extra weight of the armor.

I do manage to grab onto the edge of the bench, so it's not a complete miss. The downside is that my legs are now dragging through the mud just in front of the wheel. If I slip, the wheels will crush me, and that'll be the end of that.

In desperation, I try to pull myself up onto the seat. Adrenaline battles fatigue as I realize I can't get a better handhold without letting go first, which is not gonna happen the way the wagon is rocking and bouncing. And I don't have the leverage to try and jump clear. Shit. I wonder how long I can hang on to the side of a magic-imbibed, out-of-control wagon pulled by four crazed horses.

17

A wild crossbow bolt comes out of nowhere and hits the horse closest to me as I continue to precariously grip the driverless wagon careening down the road. The beast runs a few yards and then collapses in its harness, only to be dragged on by the other three terrified beasts. The wagon canters downwards on my side from the extra drag and slows a bit. Enough for me to get a foot on the ground and push myself all the way up into the driver's seat.

I half-lie there for a moment, gasping for air and mourning the horse. I've always liked animals better than most people I've ever met, and this horse did nothing to deserve this fate. Right now, nothing in this place deserves more compassion than this horse. His death gave me a chance to live.

From my position on the bench, I have a great view of the wall looming above me. I catch a glimpse of Des, knife in hand, doing his running best to close the gap between them and a group of goblins with crossbows. Jesse just stands in the middle of the chaos and guns a few down.

The wagon