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

by Carrie Summers

  “So…” Devon watched Bravlon toddle in a circle. “He’s coming to the Burrow entrance…and then? What happens if we run into more awakened rodents on the way?”

  All at once, Dorden started laughing. “She doesn’t know, Heldi.”

  “I don’t know what?”

  Heldi cast her an amused glance. “The wee lad honestly can’t see them as anything scary. Not until his beard comes in. Until then, anything that intends harm to the group will appear as a giant fluffy bear or sheep or rabbit. The sort of toy that human children like to snuggle up with.”

  So Bravlon would see combat as a bunch of stuffed animals coming in hot and heavy for what? Hugs?

  “Bent iron, woman! Ye can’t just mention his beard without saying a little prayer for volume.” Dorden raised his eyes to the heavens and muttered something under his breath.

  Rolling her eyes, Heldi gave her husband a little shove. “Anyway, so the big snugglies come up and wrestle and laugh and fall down. I remember it well from my wee years, only since me clan was fighting krakens and the like on the high seas, we ran afoul—to my child’s eyes—of all manner of strange laughing eels and snakes and friendly whales.”

  Devon shook her head. It was all so weird. But if Bravlon saw the whole world as a bunch of insane muppets coming to mob the group with tickle fights, did that mean he could tank after all?

  As if noticing something in her face, Heldi tutted. “I think I know what ye’re considering, and the answer is no. The wee lad might be able to take the blows, but only if the monsters would attack ‘im. Which they wouldn’t even consider. They’re more likely to goo and gaa. No resistance to the Adoration spell, ye see. It would be perfect if we could use that to distract the vermin, but it rarely works.”

  “So if he doesn’t fight, but he doesn’t affect how the battles go…” Devon cocked her head as she watched the toddler flatten a small mound of earth with another hammer strike. “You must have some reason for bringing him.”

  Dorden laughed. “Starborn. Sometimes I wonder... We got the plan from your people, ye big dummy.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “I believe your sort call it power-leveling?”

  It took everything Devon had not to groan. Seriously? She glanced again at the miniature warrior. Fine. Fair enough. At the very least, she wouldn’t have to worry about what the toddler would see if and when she transformed into a demon. She’d probably look like a grinning stuffed orangutan or something.

  “We good then?” Hailey asked. “Ready to party up and head out?”

  Devon glanced past the group to the crowd of players. A few had noticed their small cluster, and word seemed to be rippling through the crowd.

  “What’s the group limit again?” she asked as Torald detached from the crowd and approached. Hopefully, with Greel, Hailey, and the dwarf family, her party would be full.

  “Thirty-two. Raids and groups are the same thing,” Hailey said with a smirk. “Newb.”

  When Devon groaned, the woman laughed. “But so far, the consensus among players is that six or seven is a better size for everything but raid bosses. Lets the healers do something other than stare at health bars—though whether that’s a good thing is up for debate. Either way, the healing classes aren’t designed to just stand at the back of the fight and watch hitpoints, so if that’s all they’re doing, the group doesn’t work as well.”

  Devon nodded slowly. Torald was just paces away. “So we basically have room for one more. Chen’s coming, right?”

  At this, a troubled look crossed Hailey’s face. “You know, it’s been a little weird lately. He hasn’t been wanting to group. When I heard about your new dungeon quest, I sent him an out-of-game message. No response.”

  That wasn’t really like Chen, but maybe he was still annoyed at Hailey for being dragged all the way across the ocean only to die within a few minutes.

  Torald smiled, his white teeth sparkling like his polished armor. “Hail, fair adventurers. It seems we’ve a den of corruption to cleanse this fine day. Shall we party?”

  Hailey’s back was to the paladin, and as she sent him a group invite, she cast Devon a shit-eating grin. “That would be fantastic,” she said.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  DEVON STRAIGHTENED HER rucksack and took a deep breath of the morning air. With the wide landscape around her, she could almost forget the parties of players marching behind her lead group. With a little more difficulty, she could even put the demon stuff out of mind.

  As the groups advanced, the terrain shifted from dry savanna to what reminded her of the African river delta she’d once toured during a VR travel promo run by Pod People. The trees thickened as small rivulets crossed the path flattened earlier by the morphkin attack force. The trickles flowed in shifting courses over silty streambeds, glinting in the morning sun. Boots splashed through the shallow water, sending droplets sparkling through the air.

  But the spray from the group of adults was nothing compared to the fountains Bravlon created. At every single crossing, he squealed, ran, and belly flopped into the water where he flailed like a beached piranha, shrieking and flapping his arms to create wider splashes. Over and over, Heldi and Dorden were forced to scoop him up and carry the sopping package to the far side of the watercourse.

  Given that the little guy couldn’t activate Adoration until after being summoned, it made Devon wonder what on earth motivated people to become parents.

  The cooldown for her Night’s Breath ability had been refreshed for a good half hour, a fact that made her a little twitchy considering how many Shadowed points she still needed to gain. So when they reached a deeper stream, uncharacteristically murky compared to the previous brooks, she slowed her pace and laid a hand on her doublet. Maybe she’d have a chance to use the ability.

  "Dev? Did you see something?" Hailey asked.

  Devon shook her head. "Just figured the muddy water might be hiding something."

  Hailey grinned. "I hope so. Getting kinda boring hoofing over the terrain with no XP in sight, yeah?"

  Before Devon could answer, Bravlon squealed and run-toddled toward the bank. Unlike previous streams, this one had cut something of a channel. A drop of a couple feet separated dry land from the riverbed. Laughing, Bravlon toppled over the brink and splashed into the flowing water.

  "Oh, come on," Hailey muttered. "Kinda makes you wonder why people have kids, right?"

  Devon smirked as Dorden bellowed at his son and sprinted off the drop, tucking his knees into a cannonball as he hit the water's surface.

  "Fuzzy!" Bravlon giggled before the weight of his armor pulled him under.

  "Fuzzy?" Greel asked with his typical sneer. "What is it about kids?"

  "Uh..." Hailey pointed as a massive gray and pink head rose from the soupy water. The hippo opened a mouth wide as a dishwasher door, exposing teeth that looked disturbingly good at crushing things.

  "Heldi!" Dorden shouted. "Get ready to catch ‘im."

  "He's buffed, ye fool!" Heldi returned. "Take care for yourself."

  "Buffed, maybe," Dorden grunted as he stooped and fished through the murky water. "But if he sinks too deep in the muck, we'll never find 'im."

  Devon shook off her paralysis after seeing the child’s tumble, focused on the hippo, and activated Night's Breath. The late-morning sun faded as if clouds were gathering, and a chill dampened the air as the ability struck the animal.

  The hippo blinked beady eyes and swung its oversized head toward her.

  “No offense," Torald muttered, "but if I might remind you of what happened with the beaver…"

  The paladin stepped in front of her and raised his sword. As he drew breath, no doubt to spout some flowery battle cry, shouts from behind announced the arrival of the rest of the player force. Steel flashed and crossbows clicked as the mechanisms were armed.

  The hippo gave one look at the army arrayed on the riverbank, wide
ned its eyes to an almost comical dimension, and fled headlong down the river. The splashing and the wake from its passage sent muddy water over the top of Dorden's head as he fished for his son, and he came up sputtering.

  "Banked forges and bunk iron, ye big sow!" he shouted at the enormous retreating rump. Moments later, he ducked under again and surfaced with a grinning Bravlon, who chortled as river water ran out of his mouth.

  Grumbling and muttering, Dorden held the child aloft as he waded through the chest-deep—on a dwarf, anyway—water to the far side of the bank. With a shout, he hurled his son out of the channel like a soccer player throwing the ball from the sidelines. Bravlon squealed and laughed as he sailed through the air and landed with a clatter in a patch of rushes.

  "I know the kid's buffed and all," Hailey said with a wince, "but it still doesn't seem right to throw him around."

  With a huff, Torald nodded. After a moment, though, when Bravlon climbed to his feet—beginning by sticking his little toddler butt way up in the air—the paladin shrugged and hopped down into the water.

  "You starborn are so sensitive sometimes," Greel muttered as he passed. "Have you ever met a child who didn't like being thrown in the air? Perhaps you don't have any offspring of your own, but surely you spent time during your adolescence caring for the progeny of others."

  Devon and Hailey looked at each other. To Devon, the other woman looked as aghast as she felt.

  "Sorry," Devon said, "I'm allergic to babysitting."

  Hailey laughed. "Oh man, I wish I'd have come up with that excuse. I just did my best to behave so irresponsibly that no one in their right minds would consider trusting me with their children."

  Devon nodded. Of course, the truth was, the question of her suitability as a caregiver had already been answered before she'd said a word to parents. Even if it weren’t for everyone in the neighborhood knowing Devon’s mother, who typically dressed in scanty clothing, and could be found loudly smacking her gum while tugging at hair frazzled by way too many home bleach jobs, one look at Devon's tattered clothes would have marked her as a poor choice in a babysitter.

  “Yeah, I didn’t get a lot of offers either,” she muttered.

  Led by Torald, the rest of the party began climbing down the bank and into the stream. Rather than wade through waist-deep water, Devon cast Levitate on herself and floated across the channel.

  "Hey!" Jeremy shouted as she canceled the effect and dropped lightly to her feet on the other side. "Dev!"

  When she turned, he gestured to his ornate clothing. "Got another of those spells for your good friend? This cloak cost me a good week's looting."

  Devon smirked. She considered explaining that it took a lot of practice to Levitate without falling off the cushion of air the spell created, but reconsidered. With a waggle of her fingers for effect, she targeted him with the spell.

  Jeremy grinned as he rose in the air, but his expression quickly turned to alarm as he started to wobble. Like a lumberjack trying to balance on a floating log, he started pedaling his feet in the air, but the motion only threw him further off balance. He careened forward, growing more horizontal by the minute.

  His eyes were wide as saucers. "Dev?" he squeaked. "Help!"

  She cocked her head, judging his position over the stream. With a mental twist, she canceled the spell effect.

  Jeremy dropped like a stone, his accordion emitting an awful wet blat when it hit the water. The man came up shouting, then got his feet under him and fixed her with an irate glare. "Ass. Hole."

  She shrugged. "I guess you put a bit too much faith in my aversion to visiting gaming websites, didn't you? As it happens, I did a little research last night."

  His face stilled. "What did you look up?"

  "You mean you don't know? It was strange...when I searched for Troubadour group buffs, I couldn't find anything about forcing your group members to sing a round. Except there was this one video...just posted yesterday."

  Dropping his head in mock shame, Jeremy waded toward the river's edge. His ridiculous cape dragged heavily at his shoulders, making him stagger with each step.

  "You have to admit, it was funny," he said with a smirk as he climbed over the muddy bank and looked down at his gear with dismay.

  "I admit nothing of the sort," Devon said.

  Beside Devon, Hailey snickered. "I've missed you, Jeremy," she said.

  Devon cast her a glare. "Maybe you two should head off on another exploration, then."

  "Nah. I figure that can wait until after you've finished this Ishildar quest. I'm starting to feel kinda invested in it. Especially now that I learned you have to stand there while a hundred players swear to become your loyal vassals. That's comedy at its best," she said with a wink.

  Devon sighed and shook her head. "With friends like this..."

  "Why do you need enemies?" Jeremy said, nudging her with his elbow.

  Devon noticed Torald watching the exchange with a strangely melancholic expression. Something in the man's bearing made her wonder whether he'd had a similar group of gaming friends in the past, and whether something had happened to destroy the friendship.

  "Anyway," Devon said, "we ready? I need to be through the dungeon by evening."

  "Oh?" Hailey said, raising an eyebrow. "Have a date or something?"

  At this, Torald looked away, cheeks coloring. Hailey caught his reaction and smirked, fortunately without the man seeing. Devon sighed. 45 Charisma definitely caused issues sometimes.

  "For your information, no. I just have..." Devon took a deep breath and scanned the river crossing. Players from other groups were already climbing out of the water and forming up into marching groups.

  "You have...?"

  She sighed. "Listen. We need to talk." She glanced at Torald and made a snap decision to include him in her confidence. "Just our group. Let's get ahead of the others and I'll explain."

  Though she expected a sarcastic comment from Hailey, something about Devon's notion of self-importance, the woman nodded somberly. Setting out, Hailey cocked her head and wiggled her fingers as if messing with something in her UI.

  "Livestream is off," she said a few paces later.

  “Thanks,” Devon said. With quick strides, she led the group away from the river and listening ears. When she glanced back over her shoulder and decided the rest of the players were sufficiently out of earshot, she took a deep breath.

  "All right. Here goes." She turned to Torald first. "Some of what I'm about to tell you is going to seem unbelievable. But you're bound to see some of the effects in a few hours anyway. Before I start, I need a promise. You can't mention this to anyone."

  He fixed her with a sincere expression. "Of course. Whatever it is, you have my word."

  Devon swallowed, hoping she wasn't being an idiot for trusting him.

  ***

  An hour or so later, the group stood on the edge of a wide pond, a vast sweep of water blanketed in lily pads and mats of algae. It stank, but since they’d been following the trail of the morphkin all morning, Devon’s nose was already saturated. She’d almost grown used to the reek.

  In the center of the water, a massive mound rose from the surface. Unlike the images Devon had seen of beaver lodges, the thing was absolutely massive, as big around as a shopping mall. Also unlike a beaver lodge, the heap had a weird mix of stonework and wattle-and-daub mud work. Between tangles of trees pasted together with dried muck, pillars of carved stone supported heavy lintels. Square-cut stone blocks were stacked into thick walls, the masonry so precise that no chinks showed. It was bizarre really, as if magic protected the ruins of an ancient civilization from decay, but not from the inexorable spread of nature. But she knew that wasn’t the case. Instead, she got the sense that the Drowned Burrow was in a state of flux, its architecture mirroring the transformation of its inhabitants from animal to humanoid.

  As they stood on the bank, feet slowly sinking into the mire, Torald pulled out
a piece of heavy linen from his manpurse. He shook it out and straightened it, revealing the item as a tabard. Devon raised an eyebrow. Did he have gear with different heraldry for particular occasions or what?

  Both her eyebrows went up when he laid the cloth in front of her like a picnic blanket and proceeded to go down on his knees before her. Devon’s face got so hot she was sure the group could feel the radiating warmth. What the hell was he doing?

  “My lady,” he began. “Champion of Ishildar. Carrier of burdens. Regardless of the threats you face, I believe that Veia’s light fills you. I will stand beside you, my gleaming sword at the ready. I will not lose faith even when you walk through darkness. You have my loyalty. Today, tomorrow, and for as long as Aventalia endures.”

  Devon stared at Torald.

  The group stared at Devon.

  The paladin seemed entirely oblivious to the incredibly awkward silence. Devon’s eyes flicked to her interface, as she nurtured a faint hope that the man’s performance was another attempt to cast a buff. No icon appeared.

  He just said this kind of stuff.

  She swallowed. Though she’d explained the whole Shadowed thing to the group, letting them know that she needed to finish the transformation because she had a mission in the demonic plane, she hadn’t given the details about Zaa’s exploit of the security hole in the implants. Hailey knew about it, of course, but to the dwarves, talk of virtual-reality implants would make no sense. And however trustworthy Torald might seem, she couldn’t risk the story of Penelope’s mistake getting out.

  So basically, the paladin thought she was doing this of her own free will, facing inner torment because she was just that into the game. For all she knew, the fact that she planned to travel through the hell plane to rescue one of Veia’s faithful made him see her as the ultimate role player and holy warrior.

  Mostly she hadn’t wanted anyone to freak out when she started slavering and sprouting bat wings.