Stolen Lives: A LitRPG/GameLit Novel (The Underhill Chronicles Book 1)

by Keith Ahrens

  “All right, knock it off," I growl impatiently. "I’m glad you’re having a great time, but I’m kind of screwed over here. What I do now?”

  He takes a deep breath and sits upright and composed. “Relax. Sarge went to go talk to her and straighten things out. You probably didn’t know this, but elves are kind of skittish and, like I said, overly proud.”

  “I didn’t even know she was an elf! Nobody is telling me anything. On top of which, I’m getting tired of getting my ass kicked around here.” That didn't come out as whiny as it sounds… really.

  “True. And get used to it. There’s a lotta weird stuff around here, and we’re trying to ease you into it. The one thing you gotta remember is: Thorn, she’s had it worse than all of us combined. She’s been kicked around here for over a hundred years. You think she likes wearing the robes and hoods and veils? She has to because the sight of elves makes the ogres and goblins hungry. And she’s the only healer for this cluster of cells, so she's constantly exhausted trying to keep us all in fighting shape. Now, I know no one told you all this, but now is about the time you gotta eat some crow and apologize to her. When Sarge gets here, just play it cool. He’s gonna be a bit pissed off, so just take some abuse, and let her do her thing.”

  I mentally sort through all this info, but obvious questions are nagging at me. And before I can bite my tongue, they come rolling out. “How can she fix a broken leg? I don’t see much in the way of high-tech medical equipment here.”

  “You really want to know?” he asks, and I nod.

  “Magic.”

  Before I can scoff aloud, he holds up a hand and asks, “How did you think your face and concussion got fixed? I’ve been around a bit, and I can tell you, I ain’t never seen anything like what she can do.”

  “Yeah, sure," I sort of mumble before sort of accepting what he is telling me. "I’ll keep an open mind, but I gotta say—I’m skeptical. Broken bones take like six to eight weeks to heal. Then again, deep cuts to the face also take a few weeks. Shit. I’m not sure what to think around here.”

  “That’s the spirit! Your confusion is normal, and if you last long enough, you'll probably get some answers. Of course… that’ll just lead to more questions.” He grins again.

  Just then, the door opens. Two humanoid creatures are standing there, with a third one crouched on top of a wagon. I look closer and realize they are pretty similar to the goblins I'd seen on the walls. Each one has different shades of green and yellow skin tones; all have vaguely reptilian faces with long ears sticking straight off the sides of their heads. Mismatched armor with cap style helmets covers their four-foot, skinny frames. Close up, they kind of look like a rat and a lizard both mated with a dwarf, and these things were the result.

  The one on the wagon carries a large crossbow, pointing it into the doorway in a vaguely menacing way. Another one brandishes a notched sword while the third holds a tattered ledger. They look around at each of us and lean in close to each other, muttering in a hissing language.

  The one with the ledger gestures to the one with the crossbow and hisses an order at him. In response, he puts down the bow and picks up a few sealed plastic packages and tosses them through the doorway. Then he grabs a ripped open package that looks like it has been stepped on and tosses it at me with a nasty smirk.

  More MREs. The contents spill out as it lands on my lap. More chicken chunks. Awesome. At least I got some food. I do notice the dessert is missing. No brownie for me. Des picks up the others as the door closes again and tosses one to Jesse, who's just sat up, and the other onto Haynes’ bunk. He keeps the last for himself and says, “See, things are lookin’ up already. Most folks don’t get a second meal during their first few days! Eat up!”

  An hour or so later, the door opens again. Thorn stands there, glaring at me from above her veil. Haynes towers behind her, kind of lurking. After a few moments, it becomes clear that she is waiting for me to speak first. I clear my throat and lift the remains of my MRE. “Chicken chunk?” I offer as politely as I know how.

  “Arsehole!” she bursts out with a look of fury and tries to spin around. At least I understood that one.

  Haynes puts a firm hand on her shoulder, stopping her midturn. He leans down to whisper in her ear, and after a moment, she looks up at him with a quiet laugh. My eyes widen as she reaches up and puts her hand on his. They stay like that… sharing a moment… it feels so personal that I briefly glance away.

  He breaks the spell by dropping his hand and turning to stare at me, his posture becoming rigid. Suddenly, he moves like a stalking cat, taking three long strides toward me. At the edge of my pallet, he stops, contemplating the MRE tray I’m still holding up, then knocks it out of my hand with contempt and leans in extra close.

  “You know, Son,” he starts in a low, intense tone, “most people have the good sense to stop chewing when they put their foot in the mouth, but not you, huh? You think you’re a funny guy, shooting your fuckin’ mouth off and disrespecting folks you don’t know?” His breath is hot, and little bits of spit fleck my face.

  “Wait a sec, you got it all wrong here—”

  He quickly cuts me off. “I don’t give a shit what you think happened, what I know happened is that you attacked and insulted a close personal friend of mine, and the only Healer we got! Maybe you like being broken and stupid, but the rest of us need her. Get with the fuckin’ program, man up, and then apologize to the lady.”

  I lean back and take a deep breath to reply, but he cuts me off again. “By the way, idiot, elves are vegetarians. That’s another thing you need to apologize to her for!”

  So, I do the only rational thing I can and burst out laughing. “This is fuckin’ insane. She grabbed me while I was sleeping, and I only reacted! Right now, I offered her what little food I have left, and you think I insulted her? I don’t know you people or any of the weird shit you got going on around here. I’m flailing in the dark and not getting any help from any of you! Why don’t you throw me a line here and get me up to speed so this shit can stop happening?!”

  Haynes grabs me by the front of my shirt and hauls me up off the pallet, a snarl on his face. “Why, you little bastard…”

  I grab his wrists and scream as my leg bends and flops in an unnatural way, drowning out the rest of his threat.

  “STOP!” Thorn shouts, her voice commanding. Haynes and I freeze as I feel sweat beading up on my forehead from the pain. Des is on his feet, an uncertain look crossing his face. Reluctantly, Haynes lowers me back down, and we both release our grips. Thorn steps forward and gently pushes Haynes aside, her soft boots making no noise on the dirt floor. She kneels next to my cot and lowers her hood while loosening her veil.

  She gives me a steady look; her blue eyes have a soft glow, calming even, and stray wisps of her strawberry-blonde hair fall across her face.

  “I’m going to examine your leg now. It will hurt a bit, but I trust you’ll refrain from reacting… poorly.” She speaks to me like someone would to a skittish dog.

  I know she is only trying to help me now, so I don’t object. She reaches into her bag and produces a brass tuning fork.

  I groan to myself because I know what’s coming next. She taps the fork on the side of the pallet, and a pure note hums through the air. This is an old diagnostic trick used before x-rays were invented. When the fork is humming, a person presses the single tine against the bone they think is broken. The vibrations from the note transfer through the skin and into the bone. The waves then vibrate the broken bones against each other. The examiner must watch the patient for a reaction. Most people will flinch or pull away from the very unpleasant sensation of their bones vibrating together.

  When she positions the fork close enough to the break, I make a sharp, involuntary gasp. My stomach drops a bit, and I’m suddenly a little nauseous.

  She concentrates, and the tuning fork glows with a soft golden light as the note gets louder. The vibrations worsen, and a new sensation of heat is added.


  “This will hurt a bit more before it gets better,” she says, “but stay strong.” The vibrating note begins to change in pitch and intensity. The new sensation feels like the vibrations are forming thin vines, wrapping in and around the bone. The whole area starts to get hot, and I break out in cold sweat as the pain increases.

  “We sometimes forget what it's like to be new here, to be lost and alone, friendless in a strange land…” she says so softly that I have to concentrate on her moving lips to hear and understand her words. “At one time or another, we've all been where you are, yet sometimes, we can forget that we need each other to survive this place.” The heat grows in intensity, and the sound vines wrap tighter and tighter. The pain is becoming impressive.

  She continues, “We don’t always have to like our allies, but we do have to respect them and help guide them through the dark times. Your dark times are only the beginning, but ours have lasted for years upon years.” Her voice is almost hypnotic. A distant part of me realizes I’m panting from the pain, and my leg feels as if the bone is molten metal, pulled tightly together by burning wires. “Strange creatures and Fey, pain and war, and other unknowns are in your future until we can all break free… or until we die.” Her voice fades to a distant whisper, and without warning, the note ends. The pain, the heat, the vines—all vanish along with the note. Relief floods through me and induces a bit of vertigo from the sudden loss of pain.

  Thorn looks a little paler now with dark circles visible under her eyes. A tired smile is on her face as she rocks back on her heels and stands in one smooth motion. “Now, try to put some weight on that,” she directs me.

  Haynes steps forward and offers me his hand. “On your feet, soldier.”

  I hesitate only for a moment before I decide that trust is called for. I grip his wrist as he grips mine, and he pulls me to my feet. I expect it to be greatly agonizing, but I’m pleasantly disappointed when that doesn’t happen. I test my weight on both feet, and the leg holds. Feeling bolder, I put all my weight on the bad one. There is just a dull ache where the bones have been knitted back together.

  “Pretty amazing, isn’t it?” says Haynes, humor evident in his voice with a smile that reaches his eyes.

  “Told you it was magic, didn’t I?” says Des with a laugh.

  I turn toward Thorn and give her an awkward bow from the waist. “I offer my humblest apologies and deepest gratitude, Madam Thorn.” Yes, I know it sounds overly formal, and probably a little corny, but the moment seems to call for it.

  She looks down, blushing a little, and smiles. “You’re welcome, good sir. I do think you’ll fit in well here.” She returns her veil, hood, and tuning fork to their proper places. Then she steps close to Haynes and gently puts her hand on his chest. Briefly, they stare wordlessly at each other until she breaks the contact and hurries from the room. Des closes the door behind her and sits on his cot. Jesse lets out a soft snore, oblivious to everything.

  The sense of awe that came with her presence fades from the room.

  “All right,” I say, “I think I’m ready for the whole story now.”

  We talk for hours, only interrupted when the jailer makes his evening rounds. The heavy step, drag, step, drag of his gait is plenty of warning to quiet down. He comes in just long enough to ensure the brass shackles are secured to each of our ankles. He spits on the floor with casual contempt as he leaves, locking the door behind him. During these hours, I gain a new perspective on what I thought was the real world.

  “Are you curious about that new tattoo you got there?” Des asks with a knowing smile.

  “Not really,” I say, trying to play it casual. “It's just my character sheet, isn’t it? Though, I had thought my charisma score would be better.”

  “Well, well, look at the big brain on the new guy!” Haynes chuckles.

  “I told you guys I played a lot of RPGs growing up. This is a pretty basic character sheet. What I want to know is how do I level up, but also, how did it get on my arm?”

  “Easy answer to both, Hoss,” Des jumps back in, “You level up by training just like we did today. Of course, we level up faster in real fights, but we’d lose a lot more people that way. As for how you got the tattoo, Jesse has a theory on that. Though Thorn has a different one than him.”

  That must have been what the tattoo was alerting me to. I leveled up during my fight with Thirax. Cool. I think back and realize that I did see the number had changed to ‘6,’ but it didn't seem important at the time.

  Haynes cuts in again, “We go along with Thorn’s interpretation. It’s easier to understand, given the context of what’s going on around us. She’s sure it's a spell that gets cast on everyone who's conscripted here. It’s a way for the Highborn to track who the strongest fighters are, as well as our progress. They can see it remotely, so they don’t have to actually interact with us. Rumor has it, if we don’t progress the way they like, there are ways to ‘motivate’ us. We haven’t had that problem in our group, ‘cause we all fight real well.” Haynes’ last words are finished with a note of pride.

  “That makes sense, I guess. At least in this context. What’s Jesse’s theory on all this?” I ask while I digest this new info.

  The two of them look uncomfortable, and each glance over to where Jesse lays curled up, asleep under his coat.

  “Jesse… had a hard time adjusting here. Some days he’s more lucid than others. As far as we can tell, he was taken during a weekend where he was playing a part in a ‘Civil War Reenactment.’ He has a hard time keeping hold of who he is… usually he kind of thinks he's a Civil War soldier,” Haynes explains. “That doesn’t mean he’s a bad guy, mind you. He’s a damn good fighter, and we’re lucky he’s with us. It's just… when he’s more his old self, he has some pretty wild ideas about us being part of a game. Maybe you should ask him the next time he’s up for it. Me and Des just figure it was bad luck how we all got here. Wrong place, right time kind of thing. Doesn’t much matter why or how, now does it? We’re stuck with it all anyway.”

  Taking his advice, I let it go for the time being. Thorn’s explanation makes enough sense for now, but I’m starting to think there is something to both theories. They’re linked somehow.

  As the hours drift late into the night, I learn things that a week ago I would have enjoyed as a good story. Now, I have to accept this as my new reality. The fables and folklore I have loved and read about since I was a kid have become a part of that reality. Legends and lore from preindustrial Europe have come to life all around me.

  After my experience tonight with Thorn's magical healing, I have no trouble believing any of it, nor do I continue to question my sanity. I do question Jesse’s sanity, but that’s a different thing. Haynes assures me that, for the most part, he sleeps almost all the time when we are not practicing. I make a mental note to still keep an eye on him.

  Sergeant Haynes was grabbed on his first night stateside from his second tour in Vietnam. He had gotten into a ‘scuffle’ (as he puts it) with some hippies at a bus station. They called him a baby-killer and spit on his uniform. A few minutes later, he was being dragged to the local lock-up by the Sheriff while the hippies were shuttled to the nearest emergency room. Then he describes an eerily similar story to mine. I guess getting shanghaied through a mirror is a favored method of recruitment. He tells me he has been here for about two-and-a-half years. And as far as he knows, it’s still the '70s.

  He continues his story, explaining to me that his knife-fighting skills and hand-to-hand combat abilities were acquired through specialized Army training and combat tours. Being here forced him to learn the art of sword and shield fighting. That and the Gnolls beating the crap out of him for months on end until he got better.

  Jesse, who awoke sometime in the middle of Haynes' story, declines to share his own with a self-deprecating grin. “It’s just not that interesting,” he says, but I insist, thinking there might be a pattern to the abductions.

  “Did you get pulled thr
ough a mirror also? It might be something important…”

  “Nah, Hoss," Des interjects. "I got in a bar fight and passed out in the woods after some bouncers threw my ass out. Next thing I knew, I woke up here. See, not that interesting.”

  “Well, what did you do for a living? Maybe there's some kind of link there?” I press the issue a little. There must be a common factor of why we each were picked.

  “I was a machinist back in the real world. I also made custom knives and metal works. Built my own forge and everything,” he says with a proud grin. “Honest work, but nothing real fancy.”

  Hmm. Two soldiers, a medic, and a metal worker. Also, two dog-faced Gnolls. Not a lot of similarities that I can see. I don't think I'm any further into figuring out how or why they chose us. The only commonality I can determine is that most of us had been in a fight right before we were taken. Is it really that simple?

  I don’t ask about Thorn but decide to wait for them to bring her up. I have a thousand questions about her story, yet I can sense they are still very protective of her.

  Des tells me that each squad tends to lose people all the time. Some crack up mentally. Some are killed in training “accidents” against other squads; some just seem to give up entirely. All of them get taken away and never heard from again. Rumor has it that the ogres usually eat their remains.

  “If we're all in the same boat, why are we fighting among ourselves? Shouldn’t we be working together?” I ask.

  “As best as we can figure, they like us at each other’s throats. It keeps us from banding together and trying to escape,” answers Des.

  Haynes picks up the thread, “See, the better a squad fights, the better armor and equipment they are issued. And the better the food rations. Sabotaging another unit is an easy and cheap way to move up in the ranks and get better stuff. Also, good old-fashioned jealousy and human pettiness goes a long way. Notice our gear is kept separate, and the Gnolls guard it at night?”