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

both struggle to our feet, supporting one another. Jesse is wheezing and laughing as we get up. “Nothing can ever make a man feel so alive, as one who comes closer to death!”

We both chortle as the rain seems to intensify again.

Haynes turns to us, and I see a shallow laceration under his left eye that runs across the bridge of his nose. He shakes his head at our amusement, which makes us laugh harder. Des joins in, not noticing the broken sword blade that is still lodged in his shield.

Thirax and Nian just look at us in bewilderment.

“Humans. Never will understand these Humans.” Thirax cocks his head to the side, and our square glows again.

Thorn

The elf maiden squints through the driving rain, helplessly watching her friends get ready to fight again. She almost ignores the bright streak of red light that arcs up from the opposing grandstand, but something makes her look up and pay attention to it. Her first thought is that it is some kind of a signal…

Without thinking, she steps forward and grabs Skemend by the shoulder. The troll seems startled as he looks up from the board that he and Dullahan are hunched over, but he follows her pointing finger. He watches long enough for the flare to burn out, a frown crossing his face.

“Milord, Midchain has just sent some sort of flare over the field! It seems to have no effect on the battle, but—” Skemend begins to say but is cut off.

“If it has no effect, then it is to be ignored! It is just a mere distraction, much like yourself! Focus on the battle at hand, fool.” Dullahan waves his hand in Skemend's face as if to brush him off. Then he continues, more to himself, "It seems our little troupe of humans and Gnolls are still standing! How much more can they endure before they finally fall, I wonder?” Dullahan reaches forward and presses another square on the board.

A blast of red fire, like a big firework, explodes well over our heads, but nothing else seems to happen. We stop laughing and draw our weapons.

I heft my mace, and Jesse reaches over and pulls a dagger from the sheath on my belt. Once again, he has his saber in his right hand and another wicked sharp dagger in his left. Des picks up the ax that got Jesse in the chest, having lost his sword in the last sortie. We're all bleeding from various small wounds, and exhaustion is starting to take its toll. The cold, relentless rain is not helping at all.

We peer in all directions through the driving drops of water to find the next glowing square somewhere around us.

“In the front! Shields up, NOW!” bellows Des.

I react without looking. I make a quarter-turn and bring my shield up before me, only to have it slammed twice, and hard enough to knock me back. With my weakened and wounded calf, I once again slip in the mud and end up on my ass. On the way to the ground, I notice two large metal spear tips poking through my shield.

Nian spins around and hits the ground next to me, a spear through his left shoulder. Others cry out in pain, but above it all, we hear Haynes shout, “FIRE!”

A whoosh of air and what sounds like a cannonball hitting a truck deafens us for a moment. A wave of intense heat washes over us, but it’s quenched by the cold rain. I don’t think most of us did very well on our saving throws…

I blink the dazzle out of my eyes and see a smoking crater where the square in front of us used to once be occupied. Haynes turns and falls to his knees. He was the closest to the fireball that he unleashed. Way too close. His hair smolders, and the skin on his face blisters and peels. Thirax is busy slapping at his own face and arms, putting out small patches of burning fur.

This is it. For all our training and hard work, we may be finished. The next time we're attacked, it quite possibly will be the end of us. We're all bleeding, exhausted, and burned. I drop my shield, too heavy on my arm, unable to shake off the spears stuck through it.

Des pushes the barbed spear the rest of the way through Nian's left shoulder. The Gnoll stifles a scream, and it comes out as a deep, drawn-out growl. With nothing else to use, Des tears a piece off his shirt and stuffs it into the bleeding hole. Haynes turns his burnt face up to the rain, trying to cool it as best as he can. Bloody tears and rain mix freely on his face.

I take a minute to rip my shirt into strips as well so I can stuff bandages down both sides of my boot. Pulling the laces tighter and hoping to slow the blood flow, I try not to get too dizzy from the pain and loss of blood. Red liquid oozes out of the lace holes, and I realize I may be bleeding worse than I thought. There's nothing left for us to do but wait for the inevitable.

A loud commotion begins near the west wall, and I muster the energy to stand and see what is going on. Just then, a loud bang shakes the western gate as if something has rammed it from the other side. Dust and rock sprinkle down with the rain. I look over and see large ceramic pots arcing over the wall, each one trailing a stream of fire. The gate shudders again as something slams into it once more, the thick wood now splintering.

All eyes have turned to the west as the ceramic pots land and burst into ravenous flames. Both sides are scrambling to avoid the fire, but each group is still magically trapped in their squares with nowhere to run. A few people drop to the mud