Viridian Gate Online: Schism: A litRPG Adventure (The Heartfire Healer Series Book 2)

by E. C. Godhand

  I needed to make Gaia known to people. I needed to find out who this Areste woman truly was and interrupt the plans of her followers. And I needed to bring Jericho to justice for his crimes of sabotaging the priests and our chance to rid this world of the plague once and for all.

  I checked my debuffs:

  <<<>>>

  Current Debuffs

  Death’s Curse: You have died! You have lost 12,880 XP! Skills improve 20% slower; duration, 8 hours. All XP earned reduced by 15%; duration, 8 hours. Attack Damage and Spell Strength reduced by 20%; duration, 8 hours. Health, Stamina, and Spirit Regeneration reduced by 25%; duration, 8 hours. Carry Capacity -50 lbs; duration, 8 hours.

  Death’s Sting: Suffer extreme physical discomfort and waves of weakness; duration, 4 hours.

  <<<>>>

  So it was very similar to the Curse of Serth-Rog after all. I knew how to survive that. Veracity wouldn’t cleanse the debuff, so I’d have to endure. I hated losing all that experience, though. I was so close to level 15 and taking Duality. I didn’t know how I was going to bring anyone to justice without violence at this point.

  Congratulations, Liset, I thought. You survived a war. Now survive the trauma. And heal everyone else’s trauma while you’re at it. How was I supposed to fulfill Gaia’s decree if I couldn’t learn how to love a world that kept breaking? Humanity had brought all the virtues and vices of Earth with us to Viridian Gate Online. Nothing had changed from before.

  No, that wasn’t true. I would’ve wanted a drink and some Affka before. I didn’t feel the need to reach for the consumable right now, even as bad as I felt. I paused and checked my debuffs again. The Affka addiction was gone. Thanatos had cured me. I stared at the screen, stunned, and Rodion, the addiction-riddled rogue who had sent himself to Morsheim on my first day here, made sense. Thanatos fixed us. He erased the problems we brought on ourselves.

  I thought I understood Cian a bit better, too. And I felt sick to my stomach with that knowledge.

  I checked my other stats. I had an increase to Blunt Weapons and Light Armor from the beating I took in the Inquisition tunnels at Rowanheath:

  <<<>>>

  Skill: Blunt Weapons

  Blunt weapons, such as maces, hammers, and clubs, can cause massive damage to foes. Blunt weapons are especially effective against undead creatures and heavily armored opponents. This skill is always in effect and costs no Stamina to use.

  Skill Type/Level: Passive/Level 3

  Cost: None

  Effect: Increases blunt weapon damage by 9%.

  <<<>>>

  Skill: Light Armor

  Skill Type/Level: Passive/Level 5

  Cost: None

  Effect 1: 16% increased base armor rating while wearing Light Armor.

  Effect 2: +0.5% additional increased base armor rating for every piece of Light Armor worn.

  <<<>>>

  Your relationship with the Imperial Inquisition has changed from Honored to Unfriendly.

  <<<>>>

  For your acts of bravery, you have gained 500 Renown.

  <<<>>>

  I closed my eyes and leaned back into the warm, soft pillow behind me. I felt like I was ripped from a mother’s arms, and yet it still seemed in some way, back in Gaia’s realm, they were around me.

  I realized it wasn’t a pillow when I heard a familiar woman’s voice praying to Sophia.

  “Make us strong when we are weak. Make us brave when we are scared,” whispered the woman.

  I opened my eyes and looked up at her. It was Judia, the archer.

  “Make us humble in—she’s awake!” she cried.

  I sat up and found myself on the back of a wagon in Ravenkirk. Kismet was there in a flash. The heavily armored Accipiter dashed to the wagon and pulled me to her chest, smothering my head and cheeks in soft kisses. I let myself be held. I didn’t have the strength to protest and melted into her arms.

  Our eyes met as she held me at arm’s length.

  “Konja Mia, Gaia sent you back,” she whispered.

  I didn’t have any silly puns or retorts about how I met Thanatos and he told me not to come back. The only thing I wanted was her lips on mine as I pulled her towards me. She leaned in and planted a pure, chaste kiss on me, lingering as if she didn’t want it to end as much as I didn’t. I ran my fingers up her back and into her hair, holding her, begging her not to leave me again. It was too early to propose, but—

  Judia cleared her throat beside us, reminding me that people other than Kismet existed. Thankfully, Kismet didn’t pull away from me, but she did turn a delicious shade of red. Judia whistled for her falcon, who landed on the back of the wagon. She giggled at me and the Inquisitor and hugged her knees.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt, but unless you were going to invite me, I thought maybe you’d prefer somewhere more private,” she said, pulling a strand of white hair off of her gray face.

  “How did you get here?” I asked, hugging Kismet’s arm and leaning against her armor.

  “Thanks to you, I made it back to the group,” said Judia. “The innkeeper put us up. I found you in my bed when I woke up and carried you out here.”

  “Ah, yeah.” I turned as red as Kismet and pulled up my shawl to cover my cheeks. I had set my bindpoint here, so it made sense I was here. But—

  “Where is everyone else? Did they make it?” I asked. “Where’s Shiraz, and Corvus, and Rainer?”

  “Right here, Lil’Bit,” said a gruff voice.

  I faced the Risi, who was hooking up horses to the wagon. Rainer spotted Kismet and gave me a wink. Shiraz was beside him, conjuring water in her cupped hands for the horses to drink.

  “Looks like our bindpoints can’t place us in enemy territory, so we woke up here,” said the Frostlock.

  I hid deeper into my shawl, this time to avoid them seeing me tear up. I looked around for Corvus and spotted the Plague Doctor with their face pressed against a rowan tree.

  Yeah, that tracked with them.

  “Two, one—ready or not, I will stalk you now,” they said, lifting their head and slipping into stealth. Children giggled from various bushes. Soon, I spotted the Wode girl we found in the burning café running with the kitten flailing in her arms and Corvus behind her.

  She paused when she saw me and her eyes lit up. She hopped in place and shouted for Rainer to put her on the wagon, which he did. She crawled into my lap and babbled about their adventure as she stroked the kitten. I listened and helped scritch the kitten’s chin, until she abruptly ended her story and hopped off the wagon with a “Okay, I love you, bye-bye!”

  I watched her join other wagons around us. Other refugees from Rowanheath. People we had saved. Yvonne led the gathering by grouping them by family or character class until all the wagons were full and ready to go with donated supplies from the people of Ravenkirk.

  When she was aware I was awake, she paused, let out a cheer, and started clapping. The others, now aware I was awake too, joined her.

  I clapped as well out of habit and looked around.

  “Who are we clapping for?” I whispered to Kismet.

  She laughed. “You and the other Travelers, you beautiful fool.”

  I sunk into my shawl again. I wasn’t prepared for a reception; I was still wearing my funeral clothes. But the function of religious talismans was satisfied when they were seen, and seeing a priestess alive when so many were dead meant a lot to the people.

  Yvonne jumped into the driver’s seat of my wagon and grabbed the reins as Corvus, Rainer, and Shiraz joined us.

  “Liset,” said Yvonne, “I took the liberty of sending any Dawn Elves to the encampment up north. Figured the rest of us wouldn’t be welcome there after your report.” She tossed me a hunk of bread and cheese and a bottle of wine. I took a long draught, broke off some food for myself, and passed it around the wagon to the other Travelers. The food settled in my stomach and eased the ache of death.

  “Where are we headed?” I asked.

  “Harrowi
ck,” said Kismet. “We’ll see Ser Berrick. He’ll want to speak with everyone here.”

  “It’s about a two-week trek, so get some rest,” said Yvonne.

  The people of Ravenkirk came out of their houses to see us off. They lined the dirt road out of the fenced-in little town and waved. I smiled and waved back.

  “My eyes are sweating,” said Corvus. “Perhaps my mask is hot, or there is a leak.”

  I took their hand and gave it a squeeze. “It’s called crying, doctor,” I said. “I can’t promise it’ll get better. No one knows that but Gaia. But I can promise we’ll get through this together.”

  Someone with a lute in the other cart was scribbling furiously at every word I spoke, then repeated it to the people in the next cart in a sort of game of telephone. I gave them a quizzical look and ignored them to listen to Yvonne catch us up instead.

  “High Commander Carrera is dead and hasn’t come back. Word is, Grim Jack of the Crimson Alliance used one of the Serth-Rog daggers,” she said.

  “Like what happened with Hector?” I blanched and pulled my veil over my head to block out the blinding sun. My head was killing me and this news wasn’t helping. “How in Gaia’s name did he get one of those?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “But it was a good call to leave. We wouldn’t have survived him.”

  It was too much of a stretch to speculate that Grim Jack was working with Serth-Rog. Cian’s confession and utter disdain for the Murk Elf leader seemed to support that. But if anyone could use the daggers, that didn’t bode well, either. For a moment, I wondered if they had been infiltrated by Darklings, too.

  “Who runs the Inquisition now?” I asked.

  "The council in New Viridia will decide matters in the meantime. We lost a lot of our soldiers, not to mention command,” answered Kismet. The joy in her voice to see me alive was replaced by stoic mourning.

  “That’s going to make it harder to investigate the Darklings and Serth-Rog,” said Judia. I assumed someone had caught her up on their march out of Rowanheath.

  Rainer spit out his wine. “Investigate what now?”

  Kismet, Corvus, Yvonne, and I exchanged glances. I was so used to the threat that I forgot the majority had no idea what rotted underneath Eldgardian soil. We had a long enough trek ahead of us, so we passed the morning by taking turns telling our story to Rainer, Shiraz, and Judia.

  The bard in the other wagon continued to furiously scribble everything I said. I hoped he titled it “Liset’s No Good Very Bad Day.”

  Around noon, I felt like the provisions were growing too stale, and everyone’s gurgling stomachs seemed to agree. My mouth watered for more cheese, bread, and wine.

  “Alright, who leads the prayer?” I asked, remembering Hector’s insistence on gratitude before meals and trying my best to be the priest Gaia needed me to be.

  “Who has the highest Spirit?” asked Corvus. “I have 29.”

  “I’m at 35,” said Yvonne.

  “Mine’s 24,” said Kismet.

  I sighed. Corvus nudged me to answer. I checked my character sheet, but I already knew I was on the hook for the prayer. Even on Affka, my Spirit was higher than theirs.

  <<<>>>

  <<<>>>

  “Mine’s 54,” I mumbled, internally groaning at the fact I had to earn all that XP again.

  They stared at me, including the non-clerics.

  Shiraz giggled. “Liset, you’re it—”

  I groaned. “Goddammit. Alright.”

  I said the grace, though I wanted to tear into the food like a heathen. People were watching me, and the bard was still writing everything I did. I focused on the beautiful countryside for inspiration: its rolling plains of wheat, the multicolored trees of the Tanglewood to the north of us, and the occasional bridge over a trickle of a clear stream filled with fish. The land provided. Gaia was generous with her creation. I reflected on death, and how we may only die once, but we lived every day, and should act like it. And every day we were greeted with the sun and this beautiful place. Gaia’s plentiful benevolence was obvious to any conscious being.

  The bard, disappointed when I finished speaking and shoved a piece of cheese bread in my mouth, struck up a melody with his lute to fill the silence. After more time, someone from the wagons behind us groaned and cried out for another tune.

  “Why don’t you sing, Liset?” said Yvonne over her shoulder.

  “I’m really not a great singer,” I said.

  Corvus elbowed me.

  “I’m not!” I protested.

  Kismet elbowed me from the other side, until they were both shaking me more than the wagon ever did.

  “Sing anyway,” said Yvonne. “Anything is better than that sea shanty again.”

  “Fine!” I said, lifting my hands in surrender. “But it’s a Traveler song,” I said, calling out to the wagons behind me. The cheers from the group didn’t tell me who was a Traveler or not, and someone stole the lute from the bard and tuned the strings, for once. I tried to think of a song everyone knew. Someone even an atheist like me back on Earth would recognize. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and sang “Amazing Grace.”

  My voice surprised me. Not only was I carrying the tune, I felt myself sink into the emotion of it. As the melody flowed out of me, clear and sweet, images of Rowanheath and the past four days flashed across my eyes. Every time a blow was meant for me, my friends were there. Every time I called upon Gaia to heal someone, she answered. Every time I prayed to the Light to protect me, I was shielded.

  The woman who stole the lute strummed along. At the second verse, Rainer provided a bass line. Judia and Shiraz leaned against each other and joined in with a hum. Corvus and Yvonne offered a soprano harmony. I didn’t understand why, but tears streamed down my cheeks as I sang my heart out.

  By the third verse, my voice cracked. I sharply inhaled to catch my breath, and for a moment, the song stopped as I cried. I felt like a failure. I didn’t know how Gaia expected me to be a spiritual leader for everyone if I couldn’t keep it together. My shoulders shook as I hugged my knees. For someone who was about revealing light and truth, seeking justice and loving mercy, I denied a lot of my own feelings. I held no mercy or justice for myself. But I couldn’t help it right then.

  For a moment, the music stopped, and silence took over as they realized I was sobbing.

  One by one, the others in the wagons picked up where I left off into a chorus of blending voices singing the song for me. I didn’t have to carry the song by myself. I wasn’t alone. I could take a moment to rest and breathe. That was the beauty of a chorus group, wasn’t it? I could recollect myself. I wasn’t alone in my grief, either. We shared the burden of expressing that as well. I did my best to hold in my tears, but it gave them permission to cry, too.

  They finished the song, then started over from the beginning, this time with a drum from the side of the wagons and an unseen makeshift tambourine. No longer was the song the soulful and haunting version I sang, but something new altogether, joyful and celebratory.

  I laughed. I had to.

  Our song and wagons stopped suddenly when a portal opened up on the road in front of us. Silence came over the group, then confused murmuring. The crowd cheered when several soldiers in Inquisition armor stepped through and stood at attention.

  “Ser Berrick came through for us after all,” said Kismet. She took my hand and helped me jump off the back of the wagon to greet them. Yvonne and the others joined us as Commissar Cecilia stepped through the portal, her hands folded behind her back as she silently appraised each of us in turn.

  Commissar Cecilia pulled a pair of handcuffs from behind her back and settled her gaze on me.

  “Disciple Liset, please step forward.”

  Ne Exeat

  A stir came over the crowd. No one wanted to jump to conclusions just yet. I especially didn’t. I was still nervous around handcuffs and women in authority trying to drag me around. I dismissed any doubt when Jailers and Envoys ca
me out of the portal behind the smiling Commissar and rounded up my people from the wagons. A portal mage kept it open for them as they were led away in chains for questioning.

  I spotted Therion and the Tryharders in the crowd. They were rounded up like any others. I bit my tongue and remembered not to reveal their informant status. Instead, I turned my attention to the woman dragging them away.

  “Commissar,” I said, keeping my terse voice as polite as I could, but anyone could tell it was faked, “I’m so glad you made it out of Rowanheath safely—”

  “Liset Chen, you are hereby placed under arrest into the virtuous care of the Inquisition,” she interrupted.

  “For what?” I cried. Kismet held me back by the wrist.

  The Commissar was unshaken. “For the crimes of stealing a holy artifact, stealing a horse, conspiring with bandits against the Empire, conspiring with the Crimson Alliance to undermine the sanctity of the Inquisition, and dereliction of duty when you left the High Commander to be murdered by our enemies.”

  “Duty? I was never officially an Envoy working for you. I had no—”

  “Furthermore,” she interrupted, “your Exarch has informed us of your crimes against his order, and that your abandonment of Hector the Theologian led to his untimely death. We thereby charge you with manslaughter and have invited the exarch to claim first jurisdiction.”

  My head spun as if she’d slapped me. My right hand where the Curse of Serth-Rog had infected me burned, and I wanted to curl up on the ground and hide.

  “Manslaughter?” I breathed in disbelief. Those nearby gossiped among themselves until a Jailer commanded silence.

  “Surrender to me at once,” said the Commissar.