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

comes from another squad. Thirax whirls around in a fighting stance, blade in hand, and thunders, “WHO DARES?!”

The laughter stops right away. Not knowing who it came from, we're all starting to feel surrounded and outnumbered. We fall into a loose circle, facing outward. None of us have drawn a weapon other than Thirax, but the tension is thick in the air. Other squads are conspicuously not looking at us.

The area around us is unusually quiet. Quiet enough that we can hear a hushed argument beginning not far from we are. As a unit, we shift to face that direction in case it turns into something bad for us.

Part of me wants to regret helping Colt. It seems to have made my squad and me pariahs around here. The ogres and goblins are enjoying this and take pleasure in watching us suffer a bit, though I worry the real threat is going to come from our fellow prisoners.

Who knows what they were promised to make an example of us? Well, probably just me. I'm the one who stopped the assassin from a clean kill, disrupting someone's plan. Also, I cheated the ogres out of a free meal. It only sucks that my squad has to suffer as well. I'm pretty sure they're on my side, but how much abuse and starvation are they willing to take?

Yet, the rest of me feels like—fuck it, I'd do it the same way again if given another chance. Yeah, I'm a stubborn, principled jerk sometimes.

The hushed argument seems to have reached its conclusion. Two people I recognize as sparring partners from a few days ago step out of the crowd and walk toward us. One of them is carrying a water bucket. Sheathed weapons at their sides, the leader pulls her helmet off and shakes out her shoulder-length, dirty blonde hair. I’m terrible with names, but I definitely remember hers is Olivia. Her second also takes off his helmet. Sweat mats his hair down, and his dark skin glistens in the muted sunlight. No idea what his name is.

“We saw what you guys did yesterday. I want to thank you all for that. And I agree with what you said. I just wish the rest of us showed those kinds of balls around here.” Her voice raises slightly toward the end of her speech, her gaze sweeping the other squads.

“There's not a lot left, but you're welcome to some of our water.” She gestures, and the second man steps forward, holding the water bucket out to Haynes.

Sarge nods in appreciation and accepts the bucket and ladle. He passes it back to Des without looking and says, “Much obliged. We're just trying to make things a little better for folks around here.”

“You’re gonna get us all killed acting like that!” yells a voice from the crowd.

“Mind your own fuckin’ business,” yells another.

“Enough!” shouts yet another voice. A tall man with a horned helmet steps forward. He slams a heavy maul into the parched earth. “We act like tough men with our blades but cower like bitches at an act of kindness! Are we so beaten by these Fey that we will do their work for them?” He reaches around and takes a bucket from one of his squadmates. He then turns back to face us. “I am Grayson, and I, too, will share our water with you!” His squad steps forward with him, all in matching spiked plate mail armor. They carry large axes and hammers, and not one of them is under six-foot-three.

Haynes gestures to me, so I step forward and accept the bucket. The water sloshes gently as I raise a full ladle and take a large sip. Warm and a little stale, yet still refreshing. I didn't realize how dry my mouth was until that moment.

“Our help and alliance are extended to all who want it, all who are willing to stand up for what’s right. We all have a common enemy, both inside these walls and outside of them,” I say to Grayson and those surrounding us. At this point, there's not a lot for us to lose. Our only hope is to make some friends, and fast.

“Well said, friend, well said!” He has a booming laugh as he claps his giant hand onto my shoulder, not quite enough to stagger me, but close.

The crowd begins to thin out. A few squads look uneasy about what’s happening; one or two look downright pissed off and walk away in a huff. But more than a few remain in the area, not quite with us, but not against us. We can work with that.

Better than nothing.

“Did we just befriend the Berserkers?” asks Jesse with a faint giggle.

“Is that what you all call us? I love it!” The mountain of plate armor booms with another laugh. He turns to Jesse and slaps him good-naturedly on the shoulder.

Sarge is in conversation with Olivia, the first woman who stepped up and offered us water. Nian and Thirax have come over to meet the new guys I'm with. They seem to hit it off. I take another sip of water and smile to myself as I pass the bucket to Des. I think we may have just started something good.

The blonde woman breaks off from Haynes and takes a casual walk over to me. “Hey, I’m Olivia," she officially introduces herself. "Way to stir up some shit and still do the right thing. You even managed to isolate your entire group. Good job!” Her last words are said with a disarming smile that takes the sting out of them.

“Thanks. I’m pretty good at stirring up some shit. The rest just seems to come naturally.” She smiles at me again, a very pretty smile. We spend the next fifteen minutes or so talking about our past careers (she was a cop) and our hometown (both from NYC and just about a decade-and-a-half from being on the job at the same time). This is the first pleasant conversation about