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

by Terry W. Ervin II

  “There’s torture,” Kirby said, uncertainty in his voice. “I did read a book on medieval torture, and like the Inquisition once.”

  Ron’s face pinched. “Even if I were inclined toward such action, I do not believe it would prove fruitful.”

  Derek crossed his arms. “Why not?”

  “Dude, they’re really scared shitless of the undead master guy. More scared of him than they’ll ever be of us. Even I can see that.”

  Derek sighed. “I ain’t for killing them,” he admitted. “But just leaving them locked up might come back to bite us.”

  Ron rubbed his hands together. “Any thoughts, Gurk?”

  “I’ll stuff some rags in their mouths and gag them. Then Kalgore can club’em in the knee cap with that friggin huge morning star.”

  Chapter 26

  The corridor continued on at least eighty feet, widening to almost eight feet with the ceiling’s arched peak topping so that it was as tall as it was wide. That made Stephi and Derek happy, but the width would enable more than two attackers with swords or axes to simultaneously attack the party.

  Then the corridor made a hairpin turn, swinging around left. Around the turn a new set of stairs began. There only looked to be fifteen or so. Ron made a quick sketch while Kirby tested each step. He examined each carefully, along with the walls and ceiling before descending.

  Glenn didn’t think the odds were high for a trap. The stairs were carved from the bedrock, just like the walls and floor. The other stairs had been wooden.

  Just after the stairs ended, an alcove on the right contained a big wooden door. This one was open with a flickering light coming from within. Kirby snuck close and peered in. He whispered back over his shoulder, “Looks like where those guards came from.”

  The guards they’d fought hadn’t brought light with them. They looked human. Maybe they knew the passages by heart and wanted to surprise any intruders. The lantern Stephi held announced the party’s presence. Luckily there’d been turns and stairs aplenty to minimize the light telegraphing their approach.

  “Bypass it,” Ron whispered, signaling for Kirby to leave the room.

  No one disagreed. That told Glenn things could get dangerous—more dangerous—at any moment.

  As usual, Kirby was the only one who appeared excited about the situation. Ron and Derek held determination in their visage, but maybe with a little apprehension in their eyes. Stephi’s eyes were wide, but she managed to hold both the lantern and her rapier steady.

  Ahead, on the left, was another door. Wooden, like the others, but this one opened into the corridor.

  Kirby visually examined it before putting his ear next to it. He shrugged and placed a hand over the latch. Derek moved to the front, nearest the door, with Ron backing him up, spear ready.

  On three, Kirby lifted the latch and pulled the door open. Derek rushed in, but immediately slammed on the brakes, then backed out. Fortunately Ron hadn’t been right on his tail.

  Ron took the lantern from Stephi and peered in the doorway. Curious, Glenn nosed forward to get a look.

  The cavernous room, cavernous as in deep and wide, not necessarily tall, held skeletons, animated like the ones guarding the entrance to the outpost.

  The yellowish white undead with their hollow sockets for eyes and permanent sharp-toothed grins didn’t fill the room. About a third of it toward the door was open. Glenn guessed hundreds of them were crammed all the way to the back. No fancy rows or manner of organization. From those visible near the front, they all held some sort of weapon in hand. A short sword, club, spear, scimitar, or mace. A few had shields. Like the ones guarding the entrance, these were short, a little shorter than Kirby.

  Then it struck Glenn. They were animated skeletons of goblins. They looked pretty much the same as human skeletons, at least based on his recollection from high school anatomy class. Of course, the fact that shadowy lantern light played across them instead of bright fluorescent bulbs, and that they might come alive at any moment and attack, was more frightening than any exam Mrs. Harshbarger ever devised.

  Some necromancer—Glenn was pretty sure that was the proper terminology—had been busy creating an undead army.

  Along the wall to the left of the door sat several piles of weapons, mainly clubs, scimitars, swords, with a few spears. Again, no attempt at organization. More like someone just threw them into piles. Otherwise, nothing else was in the room, except for the faint odor of decay.

  Derek reached in and pulled the door close.

  “Thoughts?” Ron asked.

  “Avoid them,” Derek said.

  “Why didn’t they attack?” Stephi asked.

  Ron explained, “They have not been provided with specific directions like the ones near the entrance.”

  Kirby pointed at Derek’s chest. “Or maybe he has that Hades thing on his breastplate, and they saw that.”

  “But they don’t have eyes,” Stephi said.

  “They’re created from magic,” Kirby explained. “Some statues are animated by magic. Their eyes are stone, like the rest of their body. But they can still follow you by sight.”

  That answer didn’t satisfy Stephi, but she didn’t press the issue.

  A sinking feeling struck Glenn. “What if they get summoned and come up behind us?”

  No one had an answer for that.

  “It is unwise to remain immobile,” Ron said. “There is every chance that whatever alerted the guards we defeated sent word down to whatever person, or creature, is in charge of the outpost.”

  Kirby’s eyes widened the same time his eyebrows shot up. “Kalgore, go in there and get one of those spears. The door opens out. If you break the shaft into pieces.” He drew his cutlass. “I can hack them into door stops and shove’em underneath.”

  “It is unlikely that’ll hold under a concerted effort.”

  Kirby shrugged. “Any other ideas?”

  “Well,” Derek said, “they didn’t attack me the first time.” He strode in like he owned the place and retrieved two spears.

  While Derek did that, Stephi whispered into Ron’s ear, “I saw through Petie’s eyes, the goblins left the outpost. The skeletons ignored them.”

  After a few moments of labor, six makeshift doorstops had been jammed into place and the party continued onward.

  The party took nearly five minutes to advance one hundred feet. They stopped at a pit. It was ten feet across, ten feet deep, and stretched from one wall to the other. Along the bottom, two-foot tall iron spikes, with barbs, pointed upward. Unless someone was a contortionist, it’d be impossible to fall in and not get stuck by at least one.

  Kirby pointed across the pit, along the right-hand wall. “Planks,” he whispered.

  “But they’re over there and we’re over here,” Derek mumbled.

  Ron ran a practiced eye over the barrier’s dimensions. “While Marigold and I could clear the distance in question, the ceiling poses a concern for the arc a successful jump requires.”

  “They use the boards to cross,” Glenn said.

  “That’s obvious, gnome.”

  Stephi turned on Derek. “Don’t be an ass.” Her whisper sounded more like a hiss.

  “Dudes, toss me across.”

  “Why not the gnome?” Derek asked. “He’s smaller.”

  “Yeah, but I’m a thief. Got more agility.”

  Ron asked, “Do you believe you will be able to lift the planks and extend them across the pit?”

  “They don’t look thick enough to support us,” Stephi said. “I’m thin for the most part, except for these.” She gestured to her chest. “But I’m also like, really tall.”

  Ron studied the boards. “Possibly three-fourths of an inch thick, eight inches wide, and maybe twelve feet long. The three of them aligned next to each other would enable skeletons to cross.”

  “But not us,” Derek said.

  “I’ll stack’em,” Kirby said. “That’d make it thicker.”

  “And thinner,” Der
ek said. “Who here’s a tightrope walker?”

  “If it’s the right type of wood,” Glenn said. “Low-grade pine? Probably not.”

  The big warrior removed his helmet and scratched his head. “Better wood means it’ll be heavier to lift.”

  “Dudes, standing here debating won’t get us across. Toss me.”

  “I ain’t crossing first,” Derek said. “…I mean, I’m probably the heaviest, with armor—and no way I’m giving that up.”

  Kirby handed Glenn his cutlass and scabbard. “You come across second, and bring this.

  “Sure,” Glenn said.

  With that, Derek took Kirby’s legs and Ron took his arms. They inched to the edge of the pit and swung him like a pendulum. On the third count they tossed.

  Kirby arced across, twisting in mid arc to land on his hands and feet and skidded into a roll. If it were a dive, Glenn would’ve given him an 8.5.

  The thief sprang to his feet, looking down the hall for danger. Sensing nothing, he lifted one of the boards. It wasn’t too heavy for him to carry. Leveraging it across the pit, on the other hand, was another question.

  “Kalgore, grip my belt,” Ron said, preparing to lean over the pit to reach the board Kirby was trying to lift across.

  “This ain’t pine.”

  With Derek’s assistance, and a little luck, Ron caught ahold of the end of the board. Together he and Kirby settled it to span across the pit, leaving about two feet extending onto each side. Glenn wondered how they got the boards down the spiral staircase.

  Then, Kirby rested the end of the next board on top of the one spanning the pit, and slid it across. Ron helped align that one as well as the third board.

  “Very dense wood,” Ron said. “I believe a type termed ironwood, possibly hornbeam.”

  “Whatever, dude,” Kirby said. “That wood clattering got someone’s attention.”

  Ron clamped his hands to hold his end of the stack together. “Hurry across, Jax. Look forward, toward the end, not down.”

  Glenn remembered walking the balance beam in elementary school. This board was wider, and his feet were the same size. But, if he fell, it wouldn’t just be embarrassing for those watching. It might be fatal.

  Holding the cutlass in his left hand, with arm extended, and cudgel in his right, he stepped on the board and walked across. It proved far easier than anticipated.

  He’d barely put his right foot down and handed the cutlass and scabbard to Kirby when he heard clicking and scraping coming from down the corridor. Glenn’s eyes told him what his gut already knew. Skeletons.

  “Damn,” Kirby said. “Edged weapons only do half damage, and my darts aren’t worth a crap.”

  “Come on,” Glenn said, hefting his cudgel and holding his shield in front of him. “We gotta keep them away from the boards. Give everyone room to get across.” The words sounded braver than he felt.

  “We can keep them busy until the warriors get here,” he continued, trying to bolster his own courage. “Maybe Lysine can repel them.”

  There wasn’t any more time to talk. Except for the clatter of bone on stone and an occasional click as the bones of the magically animated skeletons moved and rubbed against each other, the only other sounds they made were when their swords struck shield or cutlass.

  Glenn’s first swing hammered hard against his foe’s shield. His foe did nothing other than add another combat scar to Glenn’s shield.

  Kirby managed to parry his enemy’s blade, and landed a punch with his weapon’s steel cup guard. The cracked shoulder blade didn’t slow the undead creature. Kirby continued exchanging blows. Kirby hit home with a hack, and took a thrust in his left arm.

  Glenn’s mind flashed to an old stop-action film where the hero, Sinbad, fought a magically animated skeleton. That was sort of campy and cool. This was more real than any movie or video game, and fraught with infinitely more peril.

  Glenn finally got a hit in, a solid blow that actually rattled and staggered his undead foe. Before he could follow up, Ron came up and slammed the shaft of his spear into the creature, causing it to fall to the ground, becoming a skull amongst a scattered jumble of bones.

  Derek arrived to assist Kirby. A sword strike glanced off of the muscular warrior’s breastplate. Holding his sword by the blade, he, in turn, slammed the undead creature with the hilt, shattering its skull. It collapsed into a spread of bones as well.

  Stephi made it across the pit and ran up to Kirby. “You okay, Gurk?”

  Ron joined her. “I have two Minor Cure Spells. Now would be an opportune moment to use one.”

  Kirby held out his wounded arm. After Ron completed his spell, the thief asked, “Why didn’t you try to repel them?”

  “That would send them back to their master. Better to face those two in isolation than in conjunction with whatever else awaits.”

  Kirby nodded, the wound on his arm closing. “You’re thinking is why you’re party leader.”

  Ron smiled and gripped Kirby’s shoulder. “You have performed your part.” He looked around. “Each of you has.” He turned to face down the dark corridor. “Now, let us finish this.”

  Chapter 27

  The party marched forward. Ron, Kirby and Derek seemed to believe the end of the adventure was at hand, that they were about to confront the animator of all those skeletons, the person—or creature—that the captured human guards feared more than potential torture or death. They were willing to face those rather than spill any information.

  The goal was to get the necklace that rendered the wearer invisible to the undead. It was the price the priests serving in the Temple of Apollo required. Once they had the necklace their high priest would cast a Revive the Dead Spell upon Kim.

  Glenn kind of wondered why a creator of undead would want a magical item that would make him undetectable to the undead. Glenn didn’t think the virtually mindless skeletons created could turn on the spell caster that animated them. Interesting as that question might be, Glenn didn’t have the time to focus on it.

  Ron and Derek were in the lead, followed by Kirby. Glenn and Marigold brought up the rear. The pace forced Glenn to trot if he wanted to keep up.

  The party approached a set of stairs carved into the stone, fifteen going up. The width and depth of each succeeding step was six inches greater than the step below it. At the top was an opening framed by black marble, the top of which formed a parabolic arc. Light emanated from the entryway, the soft glow of magical light Glenn had become familiar with.

  Derek and Ron didn’t slow down for Kirby to check for traps. Glenn thought that was foolish. What had compelled them to move more quickly?

  Glenn asked Kirby, “Why the rush?”

  “Don’t give the enemy time to prepare.”

  There wasn’t time to ask anything else before Ron and Derek reached the top. They continued forward, stepping under and past the black marble arc.

  “What is that?” Derek asked.

  Ron cocked back his arm to hurl his spear. “Husk mummy.”

  Chapter 28

  Glenn was two steps from the top when Ron hurled his spear. The gnome continued forward, taking in the scene.

  The room ahead was grand compared to anything else they’d seen within the outpost. Rather than having a chiseled look, the gray stone walls were smooth. The room was deep, possibly sixty feet, and half as wide. The ceiling was curved with two support pillars halfway in, set ten feet apart. Those were painted jet black. To the right and left stood shelves filled with books and scrolls. Each of the three tall shelves had a magical glowing light centered on top. On the left hand side in front of the furthest shelf rested a polished wooden box. Glenn recognized it as a coffin tipped on its side. The coffin’s lid appeared to have been tossed a few yards away. Within was a skeleton half falling out. The whole thing would’ve been dumped out except for a wooden stake in the chest that held the torso inside. The skull of the dead creature sat on the floor, facing the stairwell with empty sockets and pointed t
eeth. Glenn was used to seeing that in the mindless animated skeletons, except that this skull bore a set of inch-long canine teeth.

  Glenn’s experience from horror movies suggested someone had staked and beheaded a vampire. A goblin vampire?

  Along the far wall sat a dais. Three steps led to the top where a large black throne rested, carved from onyx. A smaller wooden throne painted black sat at the bottom of the dais, offset to the onyx throne’s right.

  In the lower throne an undead creature sat—what Ron named a husk mummy.

  The undead monster looked like a woman who’d died in a desert, where hot winds quick-dried her body, leaving a desiccated corpse. Her russet colored leathery skin reminded Glenn of a cicada’s husk. Her gray hair was long and brittle, like straw. And her gray robes hung tattered with age.

  The two most disturbing things were the husk mummy’s eyes and fingers. Her eyes were like black pools that absorbed all light. And her fingers ended in long yellow claws, more wicked and lethal than any grizzly bear’s.

  Ron’s spear flew true. The husk monster didn’t attempt to evade, didn’t move, as the spear’s tip bit into her chest. Instead, she laughed, a dry, hoarse laugh that sounded like coarse sandpaper on concrete.

  With an air of unconcern she gripped the shaft with one hand and slowly pulled the metal tip from her chest. Through the tattered robes everyone saw the puncture wound close up.

  Derek turned to Stephi. “Give me the lantern!”

  She thrust it toward him without question. He grabbed it and prepared to hurl it at the undead monster.

  During the lantern exchange, the husk mummy had been muttering an incantation. Both Derek and Stephi froze in their tracks, unmoving, like statues.

  “Arrest Movement Spell,” Kirby said, drawing his cutlass and moving wide to the right. “We’re in big trouble.”

  Ron took three bold strides forward and displayed his symbol of Gaia. “In the name of Gaia, I compel thee to withdraw.”

  Glenn remembered hearing Kirby—or someone—say that Ron only had a fifty-fifty chance of repelling skeletons. This husk mummy was the one who created the skeletons. Being able to do that, and ignore a spear attack, meant Ron’s chances were small. Arrest Movement Spell didn’t sound fatal for Stephi, although how she managed to not topple over at that forward-leaning angle definitely required magic. Glenn decided to follow Kirby, hoping the experienced gamer had a plan.