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

One of the axemen slips in the mud, not falling, just losing his balance for a moment. It's all the opening the giant needs. He swings his maul in a fast overhand motion and pounds the Berserker directly into the ground, much like a hammer hitting a nail into soft wood. The head of the enormous hammer rebounds off the ground, dripping gore and shattered bone.

The swordsman Berserker darts in from behind while the giant recovers his massive hammer. A fast swing with the two-handed sword cuts the hamstrings of the normal leg. The giant falls to one knee, catching himself with his weapon by planting the haft into the ground.

With a wild battle cry, Grayson leaps high into the air and slams his ax into the back of the giant’s skull. Its head snaps forward as the ax bounces off the thick bone. One of its eyes rolls back in its head, and it seems dazed, almost unsure of what just happened.

Grayson runs at it again and swings his ax with all his strength, slicing through the front of its throat. Arterial blood sprays high into the air, and the giant looks even more confused. It tries to regain its footing but slips back down to the mud. With one hand, it lazily swings its hammer at the Berserkers in an almost absentminded way. The remaining three easily dodge the maul and step back out of range and wait for it to fall over dead.

I turn my attention back to our fight. Nian and Thirax remain steady, using their shields to blunt any attack thus far. We are holding the high ground, which is giving us some advantage, and the Gnolls have a pretty long reach with their spears.

Bodies begin to pile up at the base of the wall as Jesse takes a minute to empty his cylinder and run a rag through it to try and dry it. He reloads with the quick efficiency of a practiced man.

Haynes guards the other opening with his .45 pistol while Colt calls out the position of the archers as best he can, dipping low to avoid taking an arrow to his skull. Haynes shakes his head after risking a quick look around the corner. “The guards keep moving and hiding behind the horses and wagons. I can't get a shot!”

Just then, the remaining five soldier-slaves of Terrestris attack our position with a battle cry all at once. Des steps up and fires his pistol three times. Two more bodies stagger back, but only one falls. The man who survived the gunshot wound continues his assault with the others while he bleeds down his chest. The Gnolls catch one more each with their wicked spears, holding them at bay until they stop moving.

I switch my pistol to my left hand and scoop up a chunk of masonry from the ground. It weighs about ten pounds, and I throw it as hard as I can. It catches a wild-eyed man just below his greasy hairline, and I hear bone cracking over the sounds of battle. He staggers but continues forward, raising his sword. Blood runs into his eye from the gash as he tries to climb the pile of bodies to get at us.

A man from Olivia's group leans forward and swings a studded flail with brutal force. It hits the same man on the crown of his head, and this time he drops. Alas, Olivia's man never sees the inbound hatchet from the last attacker. It slams into his temple and rips through the thin bone. He makes a gurgling sound and looks surprised as he falls from the hole in the wall.

Nian is the first to free his barbed spearhead from his last victim and swing the point around. He drives it with impressive force through the last man's breastplate and into his heart. The dying man screams in rage, but not in pain. He continues to swing the hatchet with wild abandon, filled with an unexplainable rage and desperate to hit someone. It takes him almost thirty seconds to finally die, still hanging on the end of Nian's spear.

During our latest assault, the Berserkers are attacked again, but by a different Fomorian this time. This one stands about fourteen feet high with a pair of ram’s horns curling back from its forehead. Its chest armor consists of wide bones that grow from its skin, like a second ribcage encasing the original. Its kilt is bloody and torn in a few places. Holding a sword in each hand, it spreads its arms wide in a challenging manner.

The Berserkers spread out in a loose circle, looking unsure as to how to attack the thing. It moves fast and seems to respond to any movement anywhere near it.

“Fuck this. We can't wait much longer, and I'm sick of seeing our guys die,” Olivia mutters. A fierce scowl set on her face, she hops down out of the hole, crouches low to the ground, and begins making her way to the giant.

The Berserkers try wolfpack tactics. One distracts the giant, the other two dart in to score hits. The Fomorian proves too fast for this to work; his blades are everywhere, blocking and parrying with disturbing ease.

One Berserker in black, spiked armor isn't quite fast enough. He misses a block and pays for it by losing his arm just below the elbow. The severed arm stays gripped to the hilt of his ax, which spoils the aim of his counter swing. He misses cleanly and loses his ax and severed arm in one blundering move.

Grayson makes a mighty leap and buries his own oversized ax into the giant’s hip. It responds by screaming and kicking. Once again, the Berserker leader launches through the air. This time, he doesn't land as well but rolls through the mud, his ax flying from his hands until a dead body stops his motion. Lightly hopping over Grayson, Olivia marches straight up to the