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

We leave the elves to rot in a pile. The doppelganger corpse can get torn apart by wolves for all I care. A few of us think that’s better than they deserve. Personally, I don't, and I've yet to hear a corpse demand better treatment.

Jesse scouts out the road on foot and reports back that it’s all clear, finding no fresh tracks or other signs of pursuit. We pull the wagon and horses onto the wide road and pick up speed from the magical imbuement. Soon, we reach the fork at the lake's edge. We slow the horses and wagon down as we approach the scene of the battle Haynes and Jesse told us about.

The dirt is stained with dried blood in many places, but no bodies remain. Drag marks scored into the dirt lead back to the water's edge. Jesse points out a single clear print in the soft mud by the lake. It’s the size of a dinner plate with claw marks above each of the four webbed fingers. I look over the water and don't see a single ripple. In the distance, the mage storm continues to rage on the opposite bank.

“Hey, Sarge, I been thinking. We still don't have much of a plan, and we're getting mighty close to the cave now. How we gonna handle this?” Des asks. “I might be able to set the stockade on fire… given enough time, but I gotta be real close for that.”

I pull out the copper and crystal rod. “Well, we do have this. I don't know how many shots it’s got left in it, but it has a pretty good range from what I saw last night.”

Thorn looks closely at the device and says, “There's still a lot of power stored in it. Simply focus your will through it, and it will do what it was made for.”

“Is there any way to maybe overload it? Maybe use it as a bomb?” Vince asks.

“Nay, not in any way that I'd be able to do. That is beyond my knowledge and ken,” replies Thorn with a shake of her head. “I can tell you that it can be used to throw small bolts or a long, continuous barrage, but the latter will deplete the item quickly.”

Quickly, I open my Stats sheet and scroll down to Weapons. There it is: Rod of Lightning: 1d6-10d6+10, range 50 feet. (Unknown Charges). Wow. Pretty good.

“All right, that could all be a big help, but I agree that we need a decent plan. I think—” Haynes starts to say before he is cut off by Grayson.

“How about a Trojan horse kind of set up? Not like the real Trojan horse, but I was thinking, we have four sets of elven armor, right? The helmets have visors that cover the face completely, and Thorn speaks Elvish. Wouldn't that be enough for us to get close enough to maybe order them to open the gate? The ogres and goblins have to listen to the elves, right?” Grayson finishes a bit uncertainly, uncomfortable now that everyone is looking at him.

“Damn, that might work…” Des is thinking out loud now. “Haynes, your skin is too dark, you'll never pass for a pasty elf, and Grayson is just too damn big. But Caleb, me, Thorn—obviously—and Vince might be able to pull it off. If the rest of y'all stay in the wagon, we might be able to get the whole damn thing into the stockade and past the guards…”

“Thorn could order some of the guards to go out on patrol or something, leaving us less to deal with when we make a break for the gate,” Grayson picks up the thread of the plan.

Haynes stays quiet for a few moments, thinking hard. “Well, that’s a shit plan, but unless anyone has a better idea, it's the best we got for now. Just remember, most plans go right to hell at the first contact with the enemy. Let’s move away from the lake, and then get these guys suited up.”

“Well, that was cheerful and inspiring, Sarge,” I say. He flips me the middle finger, and it garners a few laughs.

“Let’s move out; the trail starts just over here,” Sarge says, turning his horse. Without warning, he is fighting his mount for control. The panicked horse rears up, neighing and trying to throw him.

The water at the lake edge boils and erupts in a huge wave that washes over the road. The team of horses jump and dance in their harness, rocking and shaking the wagon. Hot water washes over my boots, but I barely notice as I stare at what is causing all the ruckus.

Coming from the water, with jaws snapping, are several alligator-like creatures, but only in the vague sense of their shape. About the size of a compact car, these saurian quadrupeds claw their way through the swampy mud and toward us onto dry land. Their bodies are low slung and held up by four legs that end in webbed, clawed paws, the owners of the dinner plate sized footprints found earlier by Jesse.

The lead creature has an elongated jaw at least three feet long and filled with several rows of jagged teeth, almost like a shark. Twin horns protrude past its milky yellow eyes by almost two feet. A crescent ridge of bone and fin starts at its head and grows taller and bonier as it continues down its back before it tapers off near the end of its spiked tail. The entire creature is fish-belly white and covered in sickly gray scales. Steam pours from its scaly hide, and as the hot water runs off its back, melted skin sloughs off in small patches, mostly from around bony protrusions. It throws its head back and roars a high pitch screech in a challenge. More skin melts off its body as it lifts its webbed paw.

“Water dragons! Flee to the high grounds!” shouts Thorn, panic raising the pitch of her voice.

I jump next to Des