Outpost: A LitRPG Adventure (Monsters, Maces and Magic Book 1)

by Terry W. Ervin II

  “Riding them,” she said, “with a rope to a pony each…Coming this way!”

  Kirby put a hand on her shoulder. “Shhh.” Then he stood up just enough so that Derek and Ron could see him. He pointed down the trail. Held up two fingers, and pointed at the path, then indicated the direction of the outpost entrance down the path, past their hide spots for the ambush.

  Ron nodded.

  Glenn slid away from the other two, since he needed a little room to twirl his sling. They were to wait for Ron and Derek to attack the last traveler if they were heading away from the outpost, and the first one if more than one was heading toward the post. If there were more than three but less than eight, Stephi was to Slumber all she could and respond accordingly. Any more than that…keep hidden so they all didn’t get killed going up against superior numbers.

  Or that was Ron’s plan.

  Nine or ten minutes later, Glenn spotted movement approaching them.

  The horses plodded on slowly but with seemingly sure footing, apparently used to the mucky terrain. Glenn shook his head. Horses in a swamp didn’t make sense. But neither did a gnome, a half-goblin and an elf planning to attack them.

  Glenn’s heart raced a thousand beats a minute, and he worked to keep his breathing steady. His hand holding the stone in the sling’s leather cradle began to cramp, so he loosened his grip.

  It was the same men, wearing their armor. Ron’s spear and Derek’s arrows could probably punch through the interlocking steel rings. His stone? It might bruise them. But they weren’t wearing helmets. He might get lucky. Of course, their scabbarded swords looked pretty big and lethal compared to his little round stone.

  Neither of the men spoke to each other as they rode single file, with a rope looped around their saddle horns, leading back to a pony. The pair were content to let their mounts pick the way. They weren’t exactly wary of attack, but they weren’t asleep at the wheel—or reins—so to speak.

  Derek stood with arrow nocked, and drew back his bowstring. Ron cocked his spear back and hurled it forward.

  Their movement caught the two men’s attention and drew it away from the opposite side of the trail, where Kirby hopped on top of the log, with dart in hand. Stephi stood and cocked back her arm to throw one of her sticks. Glenn stepped to the side, out into the open, and began twirling his sling.

  In desperation the rear traveler batted away Ron’s spear, diverting its course and leaving him with a nasty gash across his palm. Derek’s arrow, however, found a home in his chest. It was probably a mortal wound, but not an instant killer.

  Kirby managed to throw two darts, both hitting the front traveler in the torso, in the back, distracting more than disabling him. He turned to see who’d attacked him, just in time to duck Stephi’s hurled stick.

  Glenn let go with his sling stone, and missed low and wide, hitting the rider’s horse on the rump instead. The mount whinnied and bolted forward a step, nearly causing the rider to fall off. That gave Kirby enough time to close with his cutlass drawn. Glenn dropped his sling and pulled his cudgel while making his way forward, through the mucky water.

  The man shouted and tried to unloop the rope leading to the pony behind him. His horse was trying to go forward and the pony, frightened by Kirby’s swinging cutlass, pulled the opposite direction, trying to back away.

  The man gave up and dismounted on the side opposite of Glenn, Stephi and Kirby. He tried to see what was happening while drawing his sword, but had to dodge another of Stephi’s hurled sticks.

  Kirby ducked beneath the horse and drove the tip of his cutlass up into the man’s crotch.

  The man staggered back in pain and hacked down with his sword at Kirby, who’d thought it was better to get out from beneath a panicked horse, and instead press his attack.

  Kirby lifted his cutlass and parried the blow. He dodged a second while Glenn tried to get past the bucking mount to help.

  The rider never saw Ron coming at him from behind with his short sword held ready. A well-placed blow between neck and shoulder ended the fight, with the man collapsing face first into the murky water.

  Ron grabbed for the horse’s reins. “Excellent tactics,” he said over his shoulder to Kirby.

  Glenn saw that the rear rider was on the ground too, with three arrows stuck in him. Two in the chest and one in the thigh. Derek had control of the other horse. He glared at Glenn in wild-eyed triumph.

  They recovered the stowed medallions, took anything of value—including swords and armor—before stuffing the bodies under the water and pinning them beneath a log. Then, they led the horses and ponies back to where Blizz was waiting.

  Shoving the dead rider under a log while Derek held it poised to drop bothered Glenn, but not as much as he’d feared. Of course, he hadn’t been the one to deliver a killing blow. Heck, he’d only hit one of the horses.

  The group’s half-goblin retainer—or henchman, depending on who was asked—saw them approaching and shook his head with a grin. “You all ready to ride out of here?”

  “Ride out of here, we will,” Kirby said. “But not quite yet.”

  Chapter 23

  Glenn was wrapped up in a riding blanket taken from one of the captured horses. He was bent at the waist, resting on Stephi’s shoulder. She, along with Derek, had been selected to wear the Hades medallions.

  They medallions were better than generic quality. Bronze, stamped with the image of a throne and a three-headed hound, each head resembling a bullmastiff’s. The throne was painted black and the mutant dog painted brick red.

  Glenn clutched his cudgel, his fists pressing into her left breast as she walked. The theory was that if she had to drop him, he’d fall behind her and potentially on his feet instead of on his head. Instead of thinking about where his knuckles were, despite the two layers of blanket, he listened to Stephi repeatedly mutter the phrase: Hail Hades, King of the Underworld. Ruler of the Dead.

  He also heard Derek’s sloshing deep into the mud. He hauled Ron on one shoulder and Kirby on the other. While Glenn weighed less, Kirby was thinner and more manageable, since Derek would need to point to the medallion as he spoke.

  Rather than delay everyone entering the outpost, by someone having to go back out to get the third person, Derek insisted he could manage two people on his shoulders. Carrying two didn’t seem like a good risk to Glenn, but the big warrior appeared to be pulling it off.

  “Hail Hades, King of the Underworld. Ruler of the Dead,” they said in unison, Stephi’s voice a little shaky.

  Seven or eight strides later, Glenn was on the ground being unwrapped by Stephi.

  “Dude,” Kirby whispered. “Why’d you have to drop me?”

  “I almost dropped Lysine, so I had to unload you quick.”

  “Shhhh,” Ron urged as he got to his feet.

  Derek handed Ron his spear the same time Stephi gave Glenn his round shield.

  Glenn and Stephi folded the blanket and tarp and set them against the wall to the right of the opening. She whispered in Glenn’s ear, “Walking between those two skeletons, knowing they’re like, alive, was damn creepy.”

  “I bet,” he replied.

  Only a few moments of sunlight remained so Glenn got out his everlast candle and opened it up. As always, the tiny flame sprang to life.

  The interior of the entry was roughly ten feet wide by fifteen deep. The ground was packed and relatively dry compared to everywhere else. Ahead, near the back of the building, was a circular hole in the ground about eight feet across. Fortunately the roof was arched because the rafters were filled with spider webs, colonized by hundreds of thumbnail-sized spiders.

  Spotting them, Stephi ducked a smidgen, only a little freaked out.

  Kirby signaled for everyone to wait and crept forward. Derek watched behind, just in case the skeleton guards changed their minds.

  Kirby tiptoed back and whispered, “It’s a stairwell. Spirals down. Wooden with metal plating on top. Sort of rusty.”

  Ron nodde
d in acknowledgment, and appeared to be sketching with a pencil the layout of the room in a little booklet.

  When he pocketed it and the pencil, Kirby whispered, “I’ll go first. Watch for traps. Assigned order after that.”

  The assigned order was Ron or Kirby first, depending on the circumstances, with the other coming second. Then Glenn, followed by Stephi, with Derek bringing up the rear. Petie was to remain outside, and warn of anyone entering the outpost.

  The order of the last party member was a risk, as Derek couldn’t see very well, even with Stephi holding Glenn’s everlast candle. But his perceived experience, armor and fighting ability outweighed her superior senses.

  She carried the candle because everyone needed some light to see by, even those with low-light vision. She could hold it higher than Glenn. Plus, he carried his cudgel and shield, while she only had a rapier.

  Kirby was about eight steps down, and moving out of sight when Ron began to descend, taking the first step. He stopped when Kirby raised a hand and signaled with a finger for them to wait. After the thief stooped to examine a step in front of him, then stepped over it to examine beneath it, he signaled for the candle to be held over the open stairwell.

  After a few more seconds on his hands and knees, examining under one of the stairs, he came back up, stepping over the one in question.

  “That one don’t have any dried dirt packed on it,” he whispered. “Isn’t set into the framing like the others. Underneath is a spring system, with a round hole in the wall. If anyone steps on it, probably a spike or spear tip will shoot out when the stair board collapses. The victim will probably fall, but not before getting stabbed in the Achilles tendon or something.”

  Ron gripped Kirby’s shoulder. “Excellent work.”

  Kirby grinned from ear to ear.

  “Everyone,” Ron continued, “be sure to avoid the ninth step down. Gurk will watch for any more traps. Jax, I will assist you over that hurdle to avoid any risk of stumbling. Upon reaching the bottom, I will have counted the steps. Thus, we shall be aware of how many to climb before needing to step over the trapped step.

  “Jax, I want you to count as well, to double-check my effort.”

  They proceeded down. It was like entering a haunted house except, instead of a fake ghost or someone with a harmless chainsaw attacking you in that stairwell, what came out would be both real and lethal.

  A total of eighty-seven steps, counting the trapped one. That meant they needed to skip the seventy-ninth step up. If they were being chased, counting accurately might be a challenge. Of course, running fast, up or down stairs, was a challenge for Glenn.

  At the bottom was a square landing about eight feet wide and deep. The floor consisted of carved stones cut about fifteen inches square. They showed wear from traffic, but not a lot, just like the stairs. Glenn guessed none of the construction was more than ten or fifteen years old.

  A large wooden door reinforced by steel plates stood opposite the stairs. There was a hole at eyelevel with what was probably a sliding latch on the other side. Eyelevel for humans. Glenn remembered seeing such things in old-time movies, when someone knocked and gave a password to get into a speakeasy, or something.

  Kirby held a finger to his lips and crept forward, toward the door. At first he put his head to the floor, and tried to peer with one eye under the crack. Then he pressed his ear against it. He pressed lightly against the door while listening and frowned.

  Kirby crept back to Ron, who remained on the final step before the landing. Glenn stood to the warrior druid’s right, one step up from him.

  “Door’s barred from the other side. Some dude’s sleeping in a chair, right side, just beyond the door. Heard him snoring.”

  Ron had his little booklet out, sketching again. “Any idea what’s beyond?”

  Kirby shook his head.

  Ron put his booklet away. He glanced down at the landing and at the door. Then he signaled everyone to retreat up the stairwell. After about twenty steps he asked. “How thick is the door?”

  “A little over two inches, but the bar’s the concern. Don’t know how big it is and how well the brackets are set into the wall.”

  “So you believe, Kalgore and myself combined, we would fail to knock it down?”

  Kirby shrugged.

  “Won’t that wake up even the dead?” Stephi whispered.

  “No method to pick?” Ron asked. His voice suggested it wasn’t really a question. More of a verification.

  “No crack to slide anything through to lift the bar,” Kirby said. “Anyway, it dropping, even if the stone floor ends and there’s packed earth, it would probably wake the guard.”

  The warrior druid leaned on his spear. “We do not have a De-lock Spell available.”

  “We can’t just wait here for someone to open it from that side,” Stephi said. “There’s nowhere to hide if somebody shows up and wants down the stairs.”

  “Any way to determine the password?” Glenn asked.

  “Not unless we had a Converse with the Dead Spell,” Kirby said, “And convinced one of the dead riders to share it.”

  Ron said, “The options are to attempt brute force or retreat and reassess.”

  “Wait,” Kirby said, spinning the tarnished copper ring on his finger. “I got an heirloom that holds a spell.”

  Everyone turned to the thief and the ring he was spinning on his finger.

  “Once every four days, counting from midnight, it casts a Size Alter Spell.”

  “Midnight,” Derek said. “Black magic made it.”

  “From my goblin heritage,” Kirby said. “I ain’t Black.”

  “That is irrelevant, Kalgore,” Ron said. “Gurk, have you ever attempted to employ its magic?”

  “Once,” Kirby said, staring down the spiraling steps.

  Stephi crouched down and forward, knocking Glenn in the head with one of her breasts. He caught himself against the wall. Oblivious as to what she left pressing against Glenn, Stephi whispered into the gnome’s ear. “You think, when I was dancing on stage?”

  Glenn stared ahead, rather than get a face full. “Probably.”

  “That little—”

  “Quiet, Marigold,” Derek said. “Stand back up and give me some candle light.”

  “Five percent per rank,” Ron said. “It should work.”

  Glenn hadn’t kept up on what they were saying, or calculating.

  Ron gestured. “Kalgore, Jax, come forward.” When they did, he explained, “Gurk shall attempt to shrink the door. It will decrease in size fewer than four inches in height and fewer than two inches in width.”

  “If the spell effect works,” Kirby interjected in a whisper. “Objects get a saving throw, at a bunch of minuses because the door is not being worn or in someone’s possession. But it’s got steel or iron.”

  Ron nodded once in acknowledgment. “Kalgore, the enchantment’s effects should create a gap, top, bottom and sides. The hinges and whatever is anchoring them should become loose. However, through observing metallic rivet patterns, I believe the bar rests within one brace to either side of the door and one attached to the center of the doors.”

  He paused, in apparent thought. “When Gurk unleashes his heirloom’s spell, you and I, Kalgore, shall grip the top of the door, where it has receded from the frame, and pull down with all strength we might muster. That should provide sufficient leverage to pivot the door, such that Jax might scramble beneath.”

  The warrior druid turned to Glenn. “Your task is to incapacitate the guard.”

  Glenn’s eyes went wide.

  “Gurk shall follow and assist when he is able, but it is imperative that you render the guard incapable of raising an alarm.”

  Derek said, “Beat his lights out with your club, gnome.”

  Ron made eye contact with everyone. “If an alarm is raised, and we must retreat, the rally point remains where our henchman awaits.”

  After another moment of whispered consultation between Kirby,
Ron and Derek, the warrior druid sighed. “It is agreed, the proposed plan of action is the best available. Unless you, Marigold or Jax, have something.”

  Both gnome and elf shook their heads.

  Ron took the everlast candle from Stephi and said to her, “If the plan’s initial efforts fail, use your Slumber Spell to silence the guard and anyone else within. The spell offers an area of effect, so center it beyond us, such that we are not affected. If Jax falls under the effect, Gurk, you will retrieve him if we must retreat.”

  Kirby nodded while Glenn readied his cudgel and his shield. His eyes were wide and his heart raced ten miles a minute. He caught Stephi’s hopeful gaze.

  “You can do it, gnome,” Derek said, walking next to him down the stairs.

  Ron quietly set the candle on the floor near the door so that Glenn was guaranteed to have some light. The two warriors flexed their muscles and got ready. Both nodded to Kirby who began muttering the words to activate and direct the ring’s enchantment.

  Glenn leaned forward, like he was waiting for the whistle in gym class, for a race to start.

  Wood groaning and a few clicks said something snapped, and signaled the spell was having the intended effect.

  Both Derek and Ron reached up into the gap and hauled downward. The two seconds it took for the door’s bottom to rotate up enough for Glenn to scramble beneath felt like an eternity.

  The gnome healer shot forward, head ducked, and emerged in a wide hallway. A man leaning back on a wooden chair reached for the lamp on a hook to his right. The wick had been turned down so that it emitted barely an ember of light.

  It wasn’t enough light for the human guard, but it was plenty for Glenn.

  The guard wore mail armor and had a mace leaning against the wall next to the chair. Before he could lift the lamp, Glenn closed and loosed a roundhouse swing. His cudgel connected, deflecting off the crown of the man’s skull.

  The guard was stunned, but not out of it, so Glenn responded with a backhand swing. The sickening thunk and crack said he’d busted the man’s jaw.

  The slumping guard began to topple out of his chair. Glenn rushed to catch him, lest the sound of his fall attract attention.