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

after dark by the time Acri calls a halt. We've reached a dead end, a smooth wall of granite in front of us. He puts his ear up to a blank stone and listens intently. “It’s either empty or the person inside is very quiet,” he whispers. “These were my quarters. The door to the cavern is to the left. Another left will take us into the chamber that holds the gate. The ogres used to be inside the cavern facing the gate. They were more there to stop anything from coming in from your world. The rest of the garrison is there to prevent anyone on this side from getting to the gate. I trust you all are competent enough to make a quick, quiet kill if necessary?”

I glance down at my mace dubiously. “Maybe? Depends on how quiet we need to be. But, depending on how this goes, we may just be able to 'quick strike' and make a run for the gate.”

“Sounds too simple. I wouldn't plan on it all going that easy,” Olivia says.

“Of course not. I’m just being optimistic. Be prepared for war, but hope for peace and all that,” I say with a grin.

Acri takes out his small pack of lock picks and selects a sharp, thin tool. He carefully etches a tiny rune into the stone and blows the dust out of it. He takes a moment to inspect his work by the light of the staff before he presses his index finger to it. The rune flares to life, and the stone underneath it begins to run like water. A dim light shines through the tiny hole that is about the size of a pencil eraser.

He douses his own light and presses his eye to the hole. “I believe it's empty in there. The door is open for now, and I can see into the hallway.”

“We'll take turns observing through the hole and noting any troops or personnel we can hear or see. Half hour shifts for now, and we'll change that to two-hour shifts when it’s time to sleep. Agreed?” Olivia asks us all. No one argues, so we settle down again for a long night.

Now I know why Olivia didn't seem very enthusiastic about this part. Stakeouts are effing boring. The only exciting thing I can report for all my hours staring through that little hole is I got to see the changing of the guard.

I'm first alerted to this by an echo of a memory I'm already trying to forget. It’s a steady step, drag, step, drag cadence that I spent so many of these last months in a low state of fear over. My first glimpse of this alternate-reality-made-flesh is in the form of my former one-legged ogre jailer.

He and three others pass the doorway without even a glance inside. A minute later, four more ogres exit the other direction and pass from view. Four guards on each shift. Nothing we can't handle.

A few moments later, a dark-skinned elf enters the room and shuts the door behind him. He places an ebony staff on a rack above his bed and then goes through the motions of emptying his pockets and laying various charms and weapons out and within reach. Finally, he douses the light and settles into his narrow cot. A few minutes later, he's breathing slow and regular, fast asleep.

Our little area is still in complete darkness until Acri reaches up and seals the hole with more liquefied stone. A second later, his staff flares back to light, momentarily blinding us all.

We confer in low whispers. After a brief debate, we decide that we will make our move tomorrow night, after the dark-skinned elf goes to bed. Acri can silently melt the wall, and Thirax can see well enough in pitch blackness to kill the elf while he sleeps. Then just four more quick murders, and we're home free. That's all.

It's mildly disturbing that this plan is sitting so easily in my mind. What does this say about the current and future state of my conscience? Problem is, I don't see another way around this. Any attempt at a distraction to get the ogres to leave the room to investigate is likely to just bring more guards to the area.

A part of me wants to rationalize this plan. Things like 'if we kill these ogres now, they can't kill any more slaves in the future,' or 'they would do the same to me.' These are just hollow justifications. This plan calls for straight-up murder. But it needs to be done, not just for my sake, but for the sake of the others as well.

There! A rationalization I can live with.

The next day stretches in almost unbearable tension and tedium. The space we are in is cramped with no moving air. It’s also hot… very hot. Smells of sweat mingle with the musky odor of Gnoll. Olivia and I share the last MRE we have in the dim light of Acri's staff. The four of us split the remainder of the fresh water, but it’s not enough by a long shot.

“How can we stop them from following us through? We can't risk another running firefight, and we can't lead these things back to our friends,” Olivia asks in a very quiet voice.

“Well, if the Sarge has anything to do with it, they'll be ready for that,” I say, more confident than I feel.

“But can we really risk bringing that danger down on top of them?”

“I… don't think we can avoid it.”

“I may have a plan for that," Acri interjects. "Remember, it’s worth my while to stop any of my former colleagues from tracking us as well. I don't know if you know this already, but the gate sits on a large vein of pure silver, and that is what the structure of the gate itself is made of. If you all can buy me a few moments, I can turn the silver molten, and the gate will drown