Stolen Lives: A LitRPG/GameLit Novel (The Underhill Chronicles Book 1) Keith Ahrens (best e reader for epub txt) 📖

I expect it to be greatly agonizing, but I’m pleasantly disappointed when that doesn’t happen. I test my weight on both feet, and the leg holds. Feeling bolder, I put all my weight on the bad one. There is just a dull ache where the bones have been knitted back together.

“Pretty amazing, isn’t it?” says Haynes, humor evident in his voice with a smile that reaches his eyes.

“Told you it was magic, didn’t I?” says Des with a laugh.

I turn toward Thorn and give her an awkward bow from the waist. “I offer my humblest apologies and deepest gratitude, Madam Thorn.” Yes, I know it sounds overly formal, and probably a little corny, but the moment seems to call for it.

She looks down, blushing a little, and smiles. “You’re welcome, good sir. I do think you’ll fit in well here.” She returns her veil, hood, and tuning fork to their proper places. Then she steps close to Haynes and gently puts her hand on his chest. Briefly, they stare wordlessly at each other until she breaks the contact and hurries from the room. Des closes the door behind her and sits on his cot. Jesse lets out a soft snore, oblivious to everything.

The sense of awe that came with her presence fades from the room.

“All right,” I say, “I think I’m ready for the whole story now.”

We talk for hours, only interrupted when the jailer makes his evening rounds. The heavy step, drag, step, drag of his gait is plenty of warning to quiet down. He comes in just long enough to ensure the brass shackles are secured to each of our ankles. He spits on the floor with casual contempt as he leaves, locking the door behind him. During these hours, I gain a new perspective on what I thought was the real world.

“Are you curious about that new tattoo you got there?” Des asks with a knowing smile.

“Not really,” I say, trying to play it casual. “It's just my character sheet, isn’t it? Though, I had thought my charisma score would be better.”

“Well, well, look at the big brain on the new guy!” Haynes chuckles.

“I told you guys I played a lot of RPGs growing up. This is a pretty basic character sheet. What I want to know is how do I level up, but also, how did it get on my arm?”

“Easy answer to both, Hoss,” Des jumps back in, “You level up by training just like we did today. Of course, we level up faster in real fights, but we’d lose a lot more people that way. As for how you got the tattoo, Jesse has a theory on that. Though Thorn has a different one than him.”

That must have been what the tattoo was alerting me to. I leveled up during my fight with Thirax. Cool. I think back and realize that I did see the number had changed to ‘6,’ but it didn't seem important at the time.

Haynes cuts in again, “We go along with Thorn’s interpretation. It’s easier to understand, given the context of what’s going on around us. She’s sure it's a spell that gets cast on everyone who's conscripted here. It’s a way for the Highborn to track who the strongest fighters are, as well as our progress. They can see it remotely, so they don’t have to actually interact with us. Rumor has it, if we don’t progress the way they like, there are ways to ‘motivate’ us. We haven’t had that problem in our group, ‘cause we all fight real well.” Haynes’ last words are finished with a note of pride.

“That makes sense, I guess. At least in this context. What’s Jesse’s theory on all this?” I ask while I digest this new info.

The two of them look uncomfortable, and each glance over to where Jesse lays curled up, asleep under his coat.

“Jesse… had a hard time adjusting here. Some days he’s more lucid than others. As far as we can tell, he was taken during a weekend where he was playing a part in a ‘Civil War Reenactment.’ He has a hard time keeping hold of who he is… usually he kind of thinks he's a Civil War soldier,” Haynes explains. “That doesn’t mean he’s a bad guy, mind you. He’s a damn good fighter, and we’re lucky he’s with us. It's just… when he’s more his old self, he has some pretty wild ideas about us being part of a game. Maybe you should ask him the next time he’s up for it. Me and Des just figure it was bad luck how we all got here. Wrong place, right time kind of thing. Doesn’t much matter why or how, now does it? We’re stuck with it all anyway.”

Taking his advice, I let it go for the time being. Thorn’s explanation makes enough sense for now, but I’m starting to think there is something to both theories. They’re linked somehow.

As the hours drift late into the night, I learn things that a week ago I would have enjoyed as a good story. Now, I have to accept this as my new reality. The fables and folklore I have loved and read about since I was a kid have become a part of that reality. Legends and lore from preindustrial Europe have come to life all around me.

After my experience tonight with Thorn's magical healing, I have no trouble believing any of it, nor do I continue to question my sanity. I do question Jesse’s sanity, but that’s a different thing. Haynes assures me that, for the most part, he sleeps almost all the time when we are not practicing. I make a mental note to still keep an eye on him.

Sergeant Haynes was grabbed on his first night stateside from his second tour in Vietnam. He had gotten into a ‘scuffle’ (as he puts it) with some hippies at a bus station. They called him a baby-killer and spit on his uniform. A few minutes later, he