Stolen Lives: A LitRPG/GameLit Novel (The Underhill Chronicles Book 1) by Keith Ahrens (books for 8th graders .txt) 📗

The cop finds a wide swath of ground that has been churned up. The direction of the fallen trees gives her a good idea of what happened. She sees a clear trail leading back toward the clearing and the stockade, and she sends Thirax back to scout for tracks.

Sliding down a steep incline, she gets to her feet at the bottom and continues to look around. She brushes the burned leaves and soot from her armor and stoops low. Moving a charred log, she finds a fist-sized scale, burnt around the edges, consistent with a large water dragon.

Thirax returns and meets up with her as she crests the other side of the gully.

“I found three sets of tracks and scents leading to the site of the firestorm. An elf, a dead lizard with a bad leg, and our lost pack member. All three continue past this area. A clear sign that he is still alive. Or at least, he was when he left here.”

“Well, that’s encouraging…. I'm guessing that one of the undead water dragons followed him out this way, but I don't know where the elf comes in.”

“The elf stinks of alcohol and magics.”

Olivia raises an eyebrow. “Good to know. I think they headed that way toward the lake. Bad decision. Why lead the dragon back to its home ground?”

“The desperate flight of prey. I doubt that he planned it. One human would be no match for one of those beasts,” replies the Gnoll.

“It can't be much further. On the plus side, the sun will soon be up. That’ll help our search.” She sets the pace, following the wide trail the dragon had torn through the grove.

A few minutes of indecision while sitting on the log turns into a light doze. That’s fine, it’s not like I have somewhere important to be at any specific time. My tired body has stiffened up in the brief time I've rested, muscles cramping pretty much everywhere.

Shaking myself awake, I rub my face and eyes, trying to get my brain back in gear. There are a few things I may have to come to terms with sooner, rather than later.

Okay, priorities: One, food and water; two, find safe shelter; three, live through the next month; four, fight my way solo through the rebuilt and reinforced stockade and waltz on home for a happy ending. Er, that didn't sound quite right, but I think you know what I mean.

Now I just have to muster up the energy to get up and get it done. Or I can at least gather enough energy to investigate the sound of leaves rustling and twigs snapping somewhere behind me. Wait, what?

I shake my head to snap out of this weird stupor I find myself in. Turning and kneeling behind the log, I peer over it and try to get an eye on whatever is making the noise. I suddenly regret taking half my armor off, so I plop the helmet onto my head. Slipping on the right-hand gauntlet lets me pull the copper rod out with confidence, knowing that it won't electrocute me. I get my right arm onto the log to steady my hand for a clean shot. Now I just need a target.

Whatever it was must have noticed my movement and gone to ground. I hold my breath and listen, but all I hear are some early morning birds. The sun is rising but currently remains low in the sky, casting long, deep shadows across the forest that leave plenty of places to hide. I'm sitting in a dark shadow myself, so I choose to stay hunkered down and not move. Let them come to me, if that’s what's going to happen. I'm tired of running.

Suddenly, a raucous barking howl comes from behind me. Surprise and fatigue slow my reflexes just enough to prevent me from turning and triggering the lightning rod before I get hit.

Yet, get hit I do. The rod flies from my hands, and I'm lifted off my feet, caught in a rib-crushing bear-hug. The growl in my ear turns to rough laughter, and I recognize the voice.

“Caleb! Bone-Healer, Arrow-Taker! Tamer of Undead Dragons! We've found you, and you're alive! I search for your corpse, but instead, I find you hale and hearty!”

“Thirax! You're crushing my ribs!… Whew… Thank you!” I hug him back out of sheer happiness of seeing a friend again. My eyes fill with manly tears. Damn straight, manly tears.

“You boys want a minute alone?”

I push back from the hairy beast and turn around to another familiar voice. “Olivia?! You too? What happened? Where is—” I'm cut off as the skinny blonde throws herself at me, a huge grin on her face.

We hug, hard. Her armor digs into my chest, and her gauntlets press into my back. I don't care; it's damn good to see these two. During all this, a surreal sense hits me, and I notice how nice she smells. A potent mix of hot skin, oiled metal, and lavender, maybe? Whatever it is, it’s nice.

She breaks the embrace and steps back, looking me up and down. “You look like a bag of beaten shit. Rough night?” She gives me a crooked smile and lightly bats her eyes. “Let’s see, multiple burns, contusions, and minor lacerations, oh, and a leg injury? Tsk, Thorn was right, you do need these.”

She holds out her right hand, palm up, and nestled there are two green and white stones. Compact and portable healing magic. My eyes widen with even more surprise and gratitude. Just what I need—Thank you, Thorn, wherever you are.

Friends at my side and some hope restored. Things just got a whole lot better.

They give me a few minutes of peace while I burn up one of the stones, getting myself back to functional. A quick check of the old sheet shows me that most of the damage is healed, including the spinal injury. Hit Points are almost back to full, but not quite, so I use my