Lord of the Flame: A LitRPG novel (Call of Carrethen Book 2)

by Stephen Roark

  “Get them!” I cried out, leaping into action. I activated Rush. Fueled by emotion, I cut through the crowd with a speed I had never known. Villagers cried out and died as I diced them up like vegetables, using my cooldowns with peak efficiency.

  Sabotenda unleashed a Spartan battle roar and charged into the fray, using his halberd like a Bo staff, breaking skulls and legs as he tore through the Villagers like a tiny tornado.

  Another arrow struck the ground in front of us. I leapt over the shockwave as more Villagers were wiped from the world, then dove on a Huntsman whose health was precariously low. Someone leveled up behind me as I finished him off, but I kept my focus on our attackers.

  A healing spell hit me and I watched as my health rose, not realizing how low I’d really been. Something hit me in the back, knocking me forward. I rolled and stuck my daggers straight up as a Villager leapt on top of me. Both blades penetrated his chest and tore away his health. He died and I sprang to my feet.

  Someone else leveled up behind me and I whirled around to see the mass of Villagers had fallen to a handful that were low and would be easy to finish off. I was relieved, but confused. Who had rescued us and why? How could a player fire arrows that large?

  I joined the group and helped finish off the remaining attackers. As the final one fell, Kodiak leveled up. I let my blades hang and looked at everyone with a mixture of shock and approval.

  “Grats!” I laughed. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief in unison and I turned my attention to the tower.

  “Where did those arrows come from?” Sabotenda asked.

  “Up there.” I pointed. The top of the tower was dark, but I was barely able to make out the silhouette of someone massive moving beneath the sky.

  “It…can’t be a player, can it?” Curafin asked.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t know what that was.”

  “Well,” Kodiak grinned, “let’s go see.”

  Everyone had leveled up—everyone but me. Kodiak was 85 and Curafin 87, and Sabotenda had made it all the way to 82, getting him out of the 70s. All that experience had added up, and I wondered if the Villagers who had fallen to the enormous arrows had counted as our kills as well.

  The plaza was silent as we made our way towards the base of the tower. It stood out amidst the rest of the city, built from a tan green limestone, unlike the blue and red brick of the surrounding structures. Pieces of its walls were crumbling, but it stood strong against the sky, tall as a skyscraper. At its base stood a small door, barely large enough for one person. I glanced at my group. Kodiak shrugged.

  “Let’s go, I guess,” I said, pulling open the small brown wooden door. The hinges creaked as it opened to reveal a simple, small circular room, with a platform lift at its center. I stepped forward and looked up but saw nothing but darkness and a tiny glimmer of light at the top.

  “Another lift,” Sabotenda groaned. “We’re just going to fall off one of these, I know it.”

  “Up we go!” I grinned, stepping onto the platform. Kodiak took my side, then Sabotenda and Curafin, who held onto the low wooden railing that only reached half way up our calves and really wouldn’t prevent anyone from falling off. A lever hung on a post beside me. I took it and pulled it down. With a deep clanking sound from beneath us, the lift lurched up and began to ascend up the inside of the tower.

  The ride was slow and long with nothing to do but wait. The walls of the tower were so close around us that I began to feel a little claustrophobic. If anything happened and the lift stopped, it was a long climb up the chains to the top, and a long fall to the bottom.

  The light above us grew brighter and brighter was we continued to the top, and when the lift finally lurched to a halt, we found ourselves in a small chamber lit by four torches that smoldered softly on each wall. To our left was a small door, and from outside, I could hear the unmistakable sound of breathing—something enormous breathing.

  By the expression on my group’s faces, everyone else heard it too. It felt safe. Whoever was up here had saved our lives, but after Stitches’ betrayal, I felt the old D on high alert and drew my daggers as I stepped through the door.

  The view from the top of the tower was staggering as we stepped out onto a balcony that seemed to wrap around the entire spire. I looked out over the City of Jahannan beneath us, at the plaza where we’d just finished our epic battle, at the rows and rows of crumbling brick shacks and high bridges spanning impossible distances between tall towers that dominated the landscape.

  A thick chain, each rung almost the size of my body, lay on the balcony in front of me, leading in the direction of the breathing. Careful not to trip over it, I followed it around the spire. The breathing grew louder until I finally rounded the corner and found myself staring at an enormous giant with pale green skin and tattered clothes, clutching the most enormous bow I’d ever seen. The chain led to a thick metal manacle that was locked firmly around his left ankle.

  As I approached, he turned to me and I looked up into his enormous eyes. As he opened his mouth, a deep bass shook the tower.

  “Greetings. I am Gragorn the Giant.”

  46

  Church of the Dark Moon

  It took me a minute to respond as I stared up at the giant’s face. Every giant I’d ever seen in Carrethen was immediately hostile, a brainless, mute enemy that would stomp anything in its sight, like the Stone Giant outside of the Crimson Catacombs. But this one was different. He was speaking more like an NPC than a simple enemy.

  His face was twisted and stony, but kind, simple like a child’s. His eyes were dark, inhuman, but there was something sad about him. I didn’t know if it was the chain or the way he spoke, but I instantly felt for him.

  “Gragorn,” I said quietly. “I’m Jane.”

  “Jane…” he replied pensively, as though taking a moment to process what I’d said. A tiny smile curled at the edges of his lips, then vanished instantly. “I help you.”

  I couldn’t tell if it was a question or not.

  “You…did,” I replied. “Thank you. But why?”

  “Gragorn saves,” he told me. “Villagers destroy Jahannan.”

  I knew my group was looking at me, but I kept my attention on Gragorn, still uncertain what he really was.

  “Can we—help you, Gragorn?”

  “Help…” he repeated. He spoke softly, but the bass of his voice still shook the spire. “Gragorn like that. Church of the Dark Moon.”

  He lifted his monstrous hand and pointed a finger down at the plaza where we’d been attacked.

  “That’s the church?” I asked him.

  “Yes,” he replied. “Cleric binds Gragorn, keeping him here.”

  A quest line! I realized. That’s what this is!

  “The Cleric is keeping you here?” I asked him. I kicked the chain attached to his foot.

  Gragorn nodded solemnly. “Gragorn prisoner. Free Gragorn and Gragorn will be friend for life.”

  Finally, I turned around and looked at the rest of my group, who were staring wide eyed at the giant. I mouthed the words “it’s a quest” to them and they slowly nodded.

  “How tough is this Cleric, Gragorn?” I asked him.

  “Cleric very powerful,” he responded grimly. “Cleric not like fire.”

  “Well, that’s good,” I replied. “We’re good with fire.”

  “Gragorn help you,” he said, waving his enormous hand in the air above us. A buff hit all of us with a flash of blue light.

  The Giant’s Blessing—Increases Resistance to Frost by 25%.

  “Frost, eh?”

  “Cleric is a cold one,” Gragorn grumbled, letting his head drop as though reliving a painful memory.

  I knew he was a pre-programmed NPC, but it didn’t stop me from feeling bad for him. The Dark World was a strange place, and I couldn’t help but think of Curafin, trapped in the Bishop’s body, and Wintermute, a self-aware artificial intelligence doing its best to help me. Was it possible that NPCs like
Gragorn had their own forms of consciousness? Could he feel that he was suffering?

  “We will help you, Gragorn,” I told him resolutely. “The Cleric is not long for this world.”

  Gragorn raised his head to mine and nodded.

  “Jane is friend.”

  I smiled and turned away, heading back over to my group.

  “Come on,” I told them, stepping back through the door to the lift. They piled on beside me and I tugged the lever to send us back down.

  “That was…interesting,” Kodiak remarked as the lift descended.

  “I’ve never run into a quest like that before,” I mused. “Activating on its own like that.”

  “Same,” Sabotenda added. “And did you see the size of that bow, Jane? Bet you wish you could wield that thing!”

  “I think that would be a little more than OP,” I chuckled. “But yeah, you’re right. The damage mod must be like 2,000 or something.”

  “What do you think the quest reward will be?” Curafin asked.

  “Well, he said it’s a Cleric, so maybe he’ll at least drop a wand for you,” I suggested.

  “That’d be sweet. I could use an upgrade. This thing’s trash.”

  The lift shuddered to a stop and we all quickly made our way outside into the plaza. We made our way up to the long flight of stone steps leading up to the Church of the Dark Moon, and as I stared up at the bell tower, I understood the meaning of its name.

  A crescent moon was set into the cold stained glass window at the top, and I saw it was the source of the silvery glow that lay upon Jahannan. It seemed to pulse slightly, beating like the secret heart of the city, a source of energy fueling everything.

  I wish you were here to see this, Jack, I thought sadly. You’d love this.

  “Well, let’s not stand here gawking like idiots,” I said, taking the first step up. “Let’s get this done.”

  One of the doors of the church had been smashed off its hinges and lay in splinters just inside. Peering in, I could see rows and rows of pews, with what I could only imagine were more Villagers, sitting in silence, staring forward at an empty altar.

  “Creepy,” Kodiak whispered.

  “You can say that again,” Sabotenda agreed.

  “What should we do?” Curafin asked. “Take them out?”

  “Don’t attack unless they do,” I said cautiously. “We might be able to avoid them.”

  Nocking an arrow in my bow, I stepped inside.

  Something hummed through the air that wasn’t quite music. It was more like wind with a tonal quality. A breeze swept through the large chamber as though the church itself was poorly put together, and cold blue candles glowed in tiny alcoves that lined the walls leading up to the altar.

  Going down the center aisle seemed foolish, in case any of the Villagers went aggro on us. I took a second to inspect the closest one to us.

  Lost Pilgrim of the Wastes—Level 67.

  “Trash mobs,” Kodiak said softly behind me.

  The Wastes…? I thought, thinking back to the Old Men of the Wastes, staggering aimlessly in their tattered robes. The Pilgrims weren’t identical, but they were similar, as though they’d been the lucky ones who’d made the trek through the wastes to the city, and the rest had become the Old Men and Prowlers.

  “Yeah…” I muttered, circling left around the pews and making my way up the nave. The Pilgrims muttered to themselves, oblivious to us as we passed. It was pretty creepy, but there was no point in wasting time killing them. They were almost half my level and would probably go down in a single blow. We had to find the Cleric.

  Ornate paintings covered the ceiling like a twisted version of the Sistine Chapel. They depicted the Pilgrims trudging in a thick line through the Wastes, led by a single powerful man with a tall staff that shone bright with a silver globe at its tip.

  “The Cleric,” Sabotenda suggested as we looked up.

  “No doubt.”

  Pushing forward, we approached the altar, which was low but wide, draped in a silver cloth. On top sat a small candle that had almost burned out, a horn of some sort, and a bowl filled with dark liquid.

  “Dare you to drink it,” Sabotenda joked.

  “You first,” I replied.

  “Where is this guy?” I asked, looking around the chamber. Two doors flanked the room on either side, leading to a set of small towers. “No, he wouldn’t be up there…do you guys see a basement door or something?”

  “Nope,” Kodiak replied.

  “What the Hell?” I sighed. “Gragorn said he would be here—”

  Before I could get the words out of my mouth, a thunderous roar rang out through the Church. A fierce wind tore through the nave, startling the Pilgrims from their quiet prayer. Their heads snapped up and when they laid eyes on us, they leapt to their feet and began to attack.

  “Watch out!” Sabotenda shouted, raising his halberd to fend off the first of them. I drew my arrow and fired, picking one off in a single shot. I fired again and again, slaying them easily as my group tore through them with little trouble. Then, something cracked behind me.

  I looked to see a tear forming in the air, a twisted purple tendril of lightning expanding to reveal a dark void beyond. I stepped back as a robed figure emerged, tall and sturdy, holding a thick silver staff with a cross at its tip.

  The Cleric!

  47

  The Cleric

  His eyes were hidden behind a grey shroud and before I had a chance to inspect him, he aimed his staff at me. A shockwave blasted me in the chest and hauled me off my feet, driving me back through the pews. They shattered as I slammed into them before hitting the wall, a small chunk of my health missing.

  Ignoring the pain, I scrambled to my feet and immediately fired an arrow at him. It barely even registered, and I instantly remembered what Gragorn had told us.

  Cleric not like fire.

  Of course! My frost arrows were no good against this boss. Quickly, I switched to my fire arrows and took a moment to inspect him.

  Cleric of the Dark Moon—Level 115.

  “Jane, help!” Kodiak cried out as the Cleric drove the blunt end of his staff into his back, pinning him to the ground, almost all of his health gone.

  “Curafin!” I shouted as I darted forward and fired an arrow into the Cleric’s head. It struck him and dealt more damage than the frost arrow, but it wasn’t much. Curafin’s spell healed Kodiak and my attack distracted the Cleric, who fired an enormous Frost Bolt in my direction.

  I hurled myself away, taking cover behind one of the church’s pillars. It smashed into the stone, sending shards of ice spilling across the floor.

  “He’s too strong!” Sabotenda bellowed. I glanced back around the pillar to see him driving his halberd into the Cleric’s side, the damage barely registering.

  “Menace, Curafin!” I shouted, rushing in to help them. “And your flame sword!”

  “Got it!” he roared back.

  I fired another arrow and then switched to my daggers, sliding across the floor to end up behind the Cleric. Menace hit him and I activated Ambush and drove my blades home. The damage was good, but this wasn’t going to be an easy fight. Using Rush, I followed up with all my cooldowns as the Cleric spun around to face me. I leapt back, anticipating an attack from his staff, but he did something unexpected.

  He threw both of his arms out at his sides and a pale blue glow emanated out from his chest and slammed into me. A debuff.

  Ice Vulnerability V—Increases the target’s vulnerability to ice damage by 50%.

  Uh oh…

  I dove in for a quick attack but the Cleric was casting again, and I could easily guess what it would be. I dove behind the altar as another Frost Bolt screeched out from his staff, just barely missing me. Curafin let out a battle cry and I looked up to see him diving into action, his flaming sword slicing at the Cleric’s back.

  The damage was good, but not enough to turn the tide just yet. I swapped to my bow and fired at the Cleric’s exp
osed back, dealing decent damage from a critical hit. Sabotenda and Kodiak slashed at his flanks, beating at him with everything they had, but the Cleric seemed to almost be ignoring them.

  He raised his staff high into the air, letting them chip away more and more of his health, almost below 75%. A whirlwind spun around his feet and I knew whatever was going to happen next wasn’t going to be good.

  “Move!” I shouted to my group. “Get back!”

  But it was too late. The Cleric slammed his staff into the ground, and I watched in horror as countless razor sharp shards of ice burst from the stone, piercing all three members of my group. Everyone’s health all but vanished. The Cleric turned and aimed his staff at Kodiak.

  “No!” I cried out, leaping into action as the ice shards disappeared. I still had the debuff on, but I had to do something or Kodiak was going to die.

  I slammed into the Cleric, causing his staff to jerk upwards and send the Frost Bolt spiraling out of control into the ceiling, spilling ice everywhere.

  “Heal up!” I roared, slashing furiously with my daggers, doing my best to distract him so my group could recover.

  The Cleric lashed out with his staff, and although I did my best to block it, he still managed to drive it into my chest and take off around a quarter of my HP. I staggered back and fell, landing atop the altar. The bowl of dark liquid splashed all over my back and ran down to the stone as I rolled out of the way of the Cleric’s next attack.

  Sabotenda’s exit portal appeared in front of me and he emerged from the ground at full health with his halberd held high. He beat the Cleric’s staff aside and drove the sharp tip home. The Cleric roared and swung out with his hand, which burst with frost as it hit Sabotenda, freezing him in place.

  I dove forward, taking the next hit for him, and tried to distract the Cleric again, but he was focused on Sab. Quickly, he cast a Frost Bolt that slammed into him, breaking him from the stun, but decimating his health—only a sliver remained.