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

The crescent blade rises and catches the elven knight just below the edge of his helmet, missing the horse by design. I breathe a grateful sigh of relief. It’s not a clean decapitation as the ax angles up and gets stuck in the helmet from the inside. The body cartwheels through the air, taking the ax with it. For a moment, the corpse flies alongside Grayson's steed before crashing to the muddy ground.

By this point, we've gained a lot of ground from Haynes and Grayson's battle with the two remaining elves, and I can see Jesse slowing and turning his wagon around. I go to tell Colt to follow suit when I notice the remains of Olivia's wagon, still burning and running off the road into a meadow. I realize that I never saw her body fall below the harnessed four horses careening through tall grass. This rain may be a bit of a hidden blessing after all.

“Go after it! Olivia might still be alive!” I shout to Colt over the wind, redirecting him as I point over his shoulder at the burning wagon. He nods and tugs the reins off to the side. I hop down to the driver's bench just as we leave the road.

Our speed bleeds off, fast but smooth. Any other way and the horses would have stumbled from the momentum and been crushed by the wagon. This is some impressive enchantment upon the road.

“Pull up next to it, and I'll try to grab the reins,” I shout over the clatter of the wheels. Replacing the mace on my belt, I get close to the edge and secure my footing. It takes us about a minute and a half of chasing through thick black smoke to catch up. The fire still burns bright and hot, despite the deluge. We soon get a little lucky as the fire eats through the rear axle. The back end drops down and drags on the uneven ground. Right about then, I catch a lungful of the smoke and have a brief coughing fit as my eyes water up.

By the time I have control of my hacking and can see again, we're even with the lead pair of horses. After a brief visual scan, Colt and I agree that the reins are gone and not an option. The wagons are still going at about fifteen miles an hour. While this doesn't sound that fast, falling from one would be the rough equivalent to diving out of a second-floor window. Physics is a real bitch.

Time to do this the cowboy way.

I've seen this in plenty of Westerns and always wanted to try it. I crouch down on the floorboards in front of the driver's bench and judge the distance and the timing. I take a deep breath and leap with a shout, landing on the lead horse's back with a dull thud. I immediately bounce and slide over its back until I grab a handful of its long mane and catch myself.

The frenzied horse is even more unhappy about this new weight and tries once or twice to buck me off. Lucky for me, the harness restricts how much he can leap and kick. I tighten my grip on his mane and dig in with my boot heels and just ride it out until he calms.

I look over to my right, down between the horses, and see snapped leather lines all tangled together with what looks like an arm and a leg. She's still here! But I don't know yet if she's alive, or dead and just tangled up, her lifeless body dragging along.

Swinging my leg over the horse's slick back, I ease down to the thin wooden beam that separates the horses and attaches them to the wagon. I crouch low, bouncing with the horses' movements, and again steady myself with one hand on each horse next to me. Next, I reach out with my left hand to grab the horse’s bridle and the short reins hanging from it. That was kind of easy. Keeping my balance at three points, I reach out with my right hand to do the same. The horse has other plans and turns and bites me. His strong jaws and chisel-like teeth aren't strong enough to go break through the metal plates, but it crushes my fingers just fine. I hold back a curse and backhand the horse across its snout. I doubt it really felt it, and all that did was hurt my fingers more.

Second attempt, I dart my hand in quicker and grab the short leather reins and pull them both back together. The horses slow as one but are still agitated with the inferno strapped to their harness.

Colt stops his wagon and jumps down with his ax in hand. With a clean swing, he separates the wood beam from the carriage, and I allow the horses to continue trotting away for a few more yards. Bringing the team of horses to a complete stop, I jump down in front of them, keeping a tight hold on the reins.

I wait a moment for the dusk to settle when I hear, “'Bout fuckin' time someone stopped this ride; I was getting damn sick of it,” in an angry and weary voice. Olivia drops to the ground with a small thud.

I keep the team steady while Colt moves in to help Olivia up and out of the tangled harnesses. Her cloak still smolders a bit in a few places, the rest of it torn and muddy, and she lost a boot somewhere along the way. I pull off her smoking cloak, and Colt moves to help her walk to our wagon, but she stops and sits on the ground, breathing heavy and spitting some muddy phlegm into the grass.

She takes off her helmet and tosses it wearily aside. Her blonde hair is matted with sweat, blood, and muck, but