Citadel of Smoke: A LitRPG and GameLit Adventure (Stonehaven League Book 4)

by Carrie Summers

  For all the good it would do against a mob resistant to all elemental damage, Devon raised a lightning-cast Shadow Puppet from the ground. She gritted her teeth as the Stone Guardian lifted another massive foot and stomped down in the center of the crossroads. Flagstone shattered, sending fragments flying. Hazel gave a little squeak.

  Devon glanced over her shoulder to check the scout’s position and to judge the distance to the edge of the city. Too far. The last time she’d tried to flee a Stone Guardian, she’d whacked her head on a low door lintel and knocked herself unconscious. Hezbek had been nearby on an investigation for Uruquat and had rescued Devon. Which made Devon wonder…how had the woman moved through Ishildar without attracting the guardians? And for that matter, why was the NPC’s Teleport spell so much better than her version? It wasn’t fair. She resisted the urge to pull up the abilities page on her character sheet just to glare at it.

  Another massive footfall shattered her thoughts. Devon tugged one of her braids, trying to think of something to distract the giant.

  “While we’re at it, game, what’s the deal with making me spend weeks attuning an item that basically does nothing but lure me into a trap?”

  When no message appeared, Devon raised the Greenscale Pendant and jiggled it. As if she’d given the mental command for the item examine action, an item window popped up.

  Neck: Greenscale Pendant

  One of five ancient relics created to bind the inheritance of the great city of Ishildar, this relic hums with power. Already, you feel a kinship with the city and a sense that, as you attune your awareness to the necklace, some of Ishildar’s power will become yours.

  100% Attuned

  “Jerk,” Devon muttered as she tried to brush the window away. Yes, she was well aware that, although she’d gained 100% attunement, the promised power hadn’t arrived. The item hadn’t held up its end of the bargain. Haha. Joke’s on the stupid player who believed the game text.

  The window didn’t respond to her command. It remained dead center in her vision, blocking her view of the advancing giant. Great. Even if she did try to flee, now she was even more likely to repeat her previous experience of cracking her head against something. She started backpedaling, frantically trying to order the UI element away.

  Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how to read…

  “What?”

  Again the game fell silent. Devon clamped her lips together. This was not cool. It was player abuse, really.

  “Mayor Devon, I’m just wondering…” Hazel sidestepped toward her as she spoke, the scout’s feet crunching on grit that strewed the flagstones. “Are you trying to use that pendant to command it or something? Because I don’t think it’s working.”

  At some point, you’re going to catch on here…

  Wait. Devon reread the item description. Was it at all possible that the guardians were covered under the “some of Ishildar’s power will become yours” clause?

  Closing her eyes and tightening her fist around the Greenscale Pendant, she focused on her awareness of the item, on the warmth that radiated from it.

  Beneath her palm, the smooth green stone grew warmer. A tingle spread through her. She tensed, waiting for the next impact as the giant came a step closer.

  It didn’t come.

  You have gained a new ability: Ishildar’s Call - Tier 1

  You have a chance to command the ancient defenders of Ishildar, its once-famed Stone Guardians. Scales with the complexity of the command, number of relics controlled, and your Charisma. Bonus for each point of Bravery above 5—you either need to be very brave or very stupid to try to control a thousand-year-old stone giant, after all.

  Devon opened her eyes and found she could finally brush away the item examine window, clearing her view of the scene. Around a hundred feet away, the giant stood motionless, the deep sparks in its eyes fixated on her. She sensed a tension thrumming through its stone form, a faint vibration just beneath her range of hearing.

  Swallowing, Devon cleared her throat. “Let us pass,” she said in her most commanding voice as she went through the mental gymnastics to activate her new ability.

  The golem remained motionless.

  In the corner of her vision, a faint glow that indicated messages were scrolling through her combat log. She expanded the log and scanned the information.

  Using ability: Ishildar’s Call - Tier 1. +5% chance of success due to Bravery score of 7 and Charisma of 41. -97% chance due to level difference.

  Ability failed: The Stone Guardian resists your command.

  Ever so slowly, as if still torn by an internal struggle, the golem made a halting move to continue its advance. But its steps were slower now, possibly buying them the time they needed to escape.

  Clutching the pendant tight, Devon focused on her connection to it. At the very least, she hoped that it would continue to give the golem pause.

  “Run, Hazel,” she said. “Now.”

  Hazel’s feet remained planted until Devon started to turn for the jungle. Finally, the scout whipped around and sprinted for the wall of vines where the street hit the borders of the city.

  Hoping she wasn’t a fool to turn her back on the guardian, Devon followed.

  Chapter Three

  “YOU’D BE A fool not to leverage this,” a male voice said from within the hospital room. “Think about what it means for your platform.”

  Cynthia stopped in her tracks, the soles of her heels planted firmly on the corridor tile. She didn’t recognize the voice, but it wasn’t hard to imagine who the speaker was addressing. Of all the visitors who had permission to visit her boyfriend’s hospital room, only his father, the governor of the great state of Georgia, had anything that could be referred to as a platform.

  “Even if the situation could be leveraged, it’s too risky, Peter,” Governor Calhoun said.

  Cynthia’s heart slammed against her ribs. Leverage what? All she could think about was the spy device that the programmer, Emerson, from the gaming company had planted in Owen’s room. Had someone from the hospital or the governor’s staff found it? Were they meeting about it now, examining the hardware and deciding where and how to lay blame?

  It probably wouldn’t be hard to trace the device back to Emerson and E-Squared, which would be very bad news. Owen’s father was up for reelection this year, and his challenger, a young woman with strong ties to the tech industry, had been gaining in the polls. Governor Calhoun had made skepticism about technological advances one of his core pillars. He claimed that society was losing its moral compass.

  His opponents called him a Luddite. Cynthia was inclined to agree.

  But how could they leverage information about the device’s source? Cynthia knew from Owen that the governor saw his son’s gaming career as a major threat to his political ambitions. If his supporters found out that Governor Calhoun’s offspring not only played VR games avidly, but also had Entwined implants installed in his head, his base would dissolve.

  That was half the reason Owen’s father had visited just once since his son had been admitted to the hospital—his and Owen’s relationship was strained at best. The other reason for his absence—and the army of lawyers making sure the hospital only allowed visitors from an approved list—was to make sure the media had no idea that the governor’s son was in a coma-like state. Too many constituents might believe the situation would compromise the governor’s focus. Or they might start to wonder if the tragic situation indicated an underlying familial condition.

  At least, that’s what Owen’s father seemed to believe.

  “I disagree,” said the other man, Peter. “Yes, there’s a risk. But it’s small compared to the threats you’re currently facing from Galarza.”

  Cynthia winced as she sidestepped to the corridor wall. She had to hand it to this Peter. It took courage—or stupidity—to mention the challenger’s recent gains in popularity. Governor Calhoun didn’t take criticism easily. He was
vindictive. And he held a grudge, not just against individuals, but widening his displeasure to include anyone and anything associated with the subject of his ire. She’d only met the man once, back when she and Owen had been together for a handful of months and he’d decided to introduce her to his parents. Katherine, Owen’s mom, had been so chilly that hammer tap could have shattered her fake smile. The governor had been openly disdainful.

  Their judgment of her had started and ended at the superficial. A mixed-race girl raised in the country, smelling of peach blossoms, soil, poverty, and desperation. Cynthia’s job in high-level administration for a prominent pharmaceutical company didn’t matter, nor did her MBA. Sometimes, she thought Owen’s parents disliked her simply because she was more successful, in their eyes, than their own son. She highlighted their failure to cram Owen into the family mold.

  “Galarza isn’t the issue,” the governor said. “It’s that stupid blogger.”

  “The blogger is taken care of. He’ll either keep quiet and walk away with the cash, or he’ll wind up in legal hell with his credibility blasted to smithereens. We have a written agreement.”

  “Assuming he abides by that—which I’m not entirely convinced will happen—the situation could have gone the other way. It was dumb luck that we learned about his intents.” The governor sighed. Cynthia could imagine the disgusted twitch of his lip. “The hospital doesn’t feel it’s a good idea to transfer him, but if he stays here, someone is going to talk. This building is too public. We need to get Owen into convalescence at our home.”

  Cynthia pressed her fingertips to her temple. If Owen’s family moved him into their estate outside Savannah, she’d never see him again unless he miraculously woke from his coma. And if Emerson were to be believed, that wouldn’t happen unless E-Squared could get into his implants and brain and slowly guide him out of the subconscious hell where he’d been trapped. Of course, the chances that Owen’s parents would agree to that were slim to none.

  She leaned the back of her head against the wall. The only good news about the conversation so far was that it didn’t seem to be about the spy device. Shuffling her sensible heels, she edged closer to the doorway, ear perked. In case anyone got curious about her loitering, she pulled out her phone and pretended to look at it.

  “Just hear me out, okay, Ted?” the aide said. “I won’t keep flogging this horse if you disagree afterward.”

  The governor grunted permission, and footsteps tapped against the floor as one of the men moved inside the room. Out of sheer spite, she opened an audio app on her phone and hit record. If Owen woke up, he might want to know how his father had spoken about him while he was in a coma.

  “Right now, the situation makes you vulnerable no matter where you try to hide Owen away. What I’m suggesting is exactly the opposite. We go public with your tragic circumstances.”

  “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you all the reasons that’s a bad idea.”

  “Bear with me. Yes, there might be some that use Owen’s gaming hobby—”

  “There’s no way we can spin it as a hobby. You know that.”

  “Sorry. There might be some that use his career in gaming to paint you as a hypocrite who can’t stop the proliferation of virtual reality and tech-addiction under his own roof, much less protect the citizens of Georgia from the ill effects. But their message will be drowned out by our narrative.”

  The governor sighed. “Which is?”

  “Think about it. Just weeks after Owen had those implants installed, he abruptly lost consciousness and hasn’t woken since. Can you think of a better way to support your message about the dangers of technology? The governor’s own son, lying motionless in a hospital bed, all because he was so addicted to virtual reality gaming that he allowed experimental technology to be installed inside his brain. It’s the perfect illustration of what you’ve been saying all along…you won’t even have to keep beating that dead horse.”

  Cynthia’s finger hovered, frozen, over her phone’s screen. If the governor went to the media, blaming E-Squared Entertainment and the implant company for his son’s condition, what would happen to Emerson’s company? What about the programmer’s plan to rescue Owen? To escape the demonic AI’s clutches, he needed to be slowly weaned from the connection to the servers. Either of the options—relocating Owen or blaming the company—were likely to sever Owen’s network connection, but at least if the game kept running there would be a chance to somehow reinstate the link and resume the rescue plan.

  Cynthia didn’t particularly care one way or the other about the game, Relic Online, but she knew Owen did. Even if Owen’s safety weren’t an issue, she knew he wouldn’t want his situation to cause the game to shut down.

  “It’s a good idea, Peter. I’ll give you that. But accusing a wealthy corporation of harming my son…we don’t have any proof. Their lawyers will massacre us.”

  “That’s the thing. We don’t accuse. You simply play the part of a grieving and desperate father grasping for ideas. The public—starting with your strongest supporters—will fill in the blanks. E-Squared Entertainment can’t sue every person who adds to an Internet comment thread.”

  “E-Squared? That’s the gaming company?”

  The aide, Peter, hesitated. No doubt he was trying to contain a reaction upon hearing that the governor didn’t even know the name of his son’s employer.

  “And their hardware partner—the technology company who created the implants—is called Entwined.”

  The governor grumbled something that Cynthia couldn’t quite make out. Pacing footsteps approached the door, and she shrank back, fishing out a wireless earbud and slipping it into her ear. If the governor or his aide popped a head out of the room, she hoped they’d think she was waiting politely outside after realizing Owen already had visitors.

  “I don’t know, Peter. This is outside our usual strategy.”

  “Yes and no. When you talk about the disintegration of our values, don’t you usually find ways to illustrate it? People disengaging from their families. Kids turning to drugs because their parents are plugged into another reality. Sexual simulators that allow deviants to indulge fantasies until someday they want to experience the same thing outside VR. People—women—choosing not to get married because they think they have the love and support they need from their online friends.”

  “You don’t need to parrot my stump speeches back to me.”

  “I’m just saying, those examples are abstract. This is real. And it will terrify people into supporting you and your position.”

  Governor Calhoun sighed again. “I’ll think about it.”

  “If I might make a last suggestion, don’t think about it too long. You were right earlier when you mentioned the threats posed by the blogger and the media. If we don’t get ahead of this, it’s going to hit us hard. Take the suggestion or not, but if you decide it’s too risky, I think you’re right about the conservative course of action. Owen needs to be relocated somewhere private.”

  “Or maybe we do both. Bring him home where the media can see him surrounded by a loving family.”

  “Good point, Governor.”

  “Of course, the hospital will give us friction. They told me early on I need power of attorney to make those kinds of decisions.”

  “And you don’t have that?”

  Cynthia perked up. She’d assumed the governor had full control over Owen’s situation.

  “It’s complicated. Either way, whether I’m trying to get legal power to move him or whether we’re risking a libel suit filed by this video game company, I’m going to need to divert more money to my legal counsel. How’s the slush fund?”

  “To be honest, we’re running a bit low. I’m working on ways to divert money from—actually, it’s better for you if I don’t go into the details.”

  Something metal tinked against the door frame. Cynthia guessed it was the ugly class ring the governor still wore. Sidling away, she plugge
d in another earbud and turned her back.

  “Do what you have to do,” the governor said, voice growing louder as he stepped out into the corridor.

  He glanced at Cynthia as he passed, cheek twitching in some sort of poorly contained emotion. She nodded at him and moved as if to take out an earbud so they could talk. Governor Calhoun looked away and stalked off.

  Chapter Four

  THE WOMEN STOOD panting in the dense jungle, trickles of sweat running over Devon’s temples and tickling her neck. Well, on the bright side, they’d escaped one of Ishildar’s Stone Guardians. And it was kind of cool to discover that she’d eventually be able to order the stone giants around. Someday, anyway. Unfortunately, that whole thing about 97% chance to resist due to the level difference between Devon and the golems undercut her enthusiasm for the discovery.

  The guardians were more than twice her level, but she doubted that meant she’d need to gain twenty levels before it would be safe to go into Ishildar. Once she controlled the city by possessing all five relics, it made no sense that the guardians would continue to attack her. Maybe they’d go dormant until she leveled enough to take command. Or maybe they’d form some kind of automated defense.

  While she caught her breath and waited for her Fatigue score to recover from the sprint, Devon glanced at the main screen on her character sheet. As usual, she’d been procrastinating on spending the attribute points she’d gained while leveling inside the Cavern of Spirits. Not that boosting her Charisma would have helped with the guardian, but one of these days she was going to regret her procrastination when she died in a close battle that might have gone the other way if she’d had a couple more points in a particular stat.

  Character: Devon (click to set a different character name)

  Level: 20