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

jolts, and I'm brought back to my current situation. I sit up and fish the loose reins from the floorboards. Between my advanced driving courses, personal experience, and my knowledge of animals, I try to apply a mix of these skills to handle this wagon.

I pull hard on the left rein to try to turn this contraption around. The remaining horses react right away, and the wagon slews into a tight turn. The leather straps of the harness give way, and the body of the slain horse slides off into the mud. I refuse to look back at it.

As I come about, I see complete mayhem before me. The road is clogged with untethered horses and a jumble of wagons no longer neatly lined up. Another battle has begun at the breach in the wall. I watch as our people try to load the wounded into the wagons and untangle the horses. All the while, fighting a group of ogres clothed in blue and silver livery.

Scanning the top of the wall, I find Des and Jesse nearing the end of their fight. Des picks up the last goblin and tosses him from top of the bulwark and back into the courtyard. I hear its screech fade away and imagine the thump at the end.

Finding the best way I can to assist them, I maneuver the wagon to the base of the wall under Jesse and Des. The stonework looks a bit lower here as the hills rise to meet it. I still estimate it's about fifteen to twenty feet between the top of the wagon and the wall—far enough to break a leg or a neck if one were to land in an unfortunate position.

“Yo! The way back is overrun! You're gonna have to jump!” I shout up into the rain. Jesse looks down and gives me a small wave as he scans back over the parapets. Whatever he sees is enough to convince him that jumping off a thirty-foot stone wall is preferable than the alternative.

He grabs Des by the arm and points down to where I am while talking. It’s tough to tell at this distance, but Des seems to pale a little. Jesse slaps him on the shoulder and jumps with a loud laugh. I watch him arc down as if in slow motion, a crazy grin on his face as he slams hard onto the wooden roof. I hear a loud crack, and I hope it’s the wood and not his leg. The wagon rocks on its rudimentary springs and bounces a little; I pull back hard on the reins to check the nervous horses.

I don't see Des's descent, but I sure feel it as the wagon rocks with a second impact. A tremendous crashing noise comes along with his landing. I turn in my seat and see most of the roof has collapsed. Leaning over the splintered edge, I find two bodies tangled in broken beams, obscured in dust, lumber, and rain.

I flinch back as several crossbow bolts rain down and land randomly inside the wagon and the bench next to me. Without a second glance, I assume that more goblins have reached us from the wall, and I turn forward, snapping the reins and yelling, “Go, dammit, go!” because I don't speak horse, and I have no idea what will make them run. It was probably the reins that got them moving, but I'll take it.

With a lurch, the horses pull on the reins with great force, and the wagon jumps forward. I haul on the right rein and try to get some distance from our foes. The team of horses charge back into the general melee; I hold on tight and do my best to steer through the obstacles before us.

More gunfire comes from the breach as we roll past a driverless wagon and get a good look at the chaos our exit has created. Six hulking ogres are decimating the escapees as they jump from a jagged hole in the wall. Another four ogres are down and not moving but surrounded by a good fifteen to twenty humans. They, too, lay shattered on the ground and still.

Making a quick decision, I turn the horses toward the edge of the ogre formation and pull my mace from my belt. I need to clear them away or no one else is getting out unscathed.

The ogres react a bit too late; I guess they didn't expect a wagon to attack them. The first one goes down under steel-shod hooves of the horses, and the second one comes into range of my weapon's arc. I crouch in front of the bench, set my feet, and swing for the fences. Teeth and tusk shatter as the iron mace smashes like a wrecking ball through the ogre's lower jaw. Its head snaps back, and I see its feet leave the ground.

The force of my swing combined with the momentum of the wagon gives the shot plenty of power. More than enough to make me lose my damn mace as it rebounds and sends shock waves back through my hands and arms. It rattles from my numbed hands and lands in the back of the wagon.

Grabbing the reins again, I pull hard to make a tight turn for another pass. The wagon doesn't make it halfway through the angle when it’s rocked yet again, this time by a massive explosion. I flinch as a white-hot fireball detonates within the breach of the wall. The shockwave knocks humans and ogres from their feet while the following wave of fire finishes most of them off. The towering granite wall crumbles further, raining chunks of stone in all directions.

A blanket of silence covers the area. My wagon limps to a stop as even the horses are stunned by the blast. Where the breach once was, the stones glow red and orange from the heat they've absorbed. The rest of the wall has collapsed in on itself. No way anyone could've survived that.