Sands of Blood and Bone: A LitRPG Adventure (Defying Divinity Book 2) Read online

  Danforth slipped into the smoke. He closed his eyes and let off a long, shallow exhale as it surrounded him. He could feel the smoke play against his skin, brushing against it like a whisper. He let off a silent prayer to Sytar and then opened his eyes. The smoke had inverted its position. Now, visible only to him, it covered the entire room except for the clear cone he stood in.

  Cold metal rippled as he pulled out his prized possession.

  Uzzbah’s Delight:

  Rank: Legendary

  + 300% Damage while undetected

  - Current poison: Winterbite

  Crafted for the Assassin Sage Uzzbah, this dagger is passed down between the Handles of House Morten as they ascend to Blade’s rank. This dagger can absorb any poison that it touches and takes on the properties of that poison.

  Uzzbah’s Delight was a long, thin dagger with a simple silver handle. Its blade was made of a black metal that rippled as if it couldn’t hold its form. When Danforth moved the hilt of the dagger, the blade followed just a hair slower. The blade was almost flawless, except for a single crack that stretched from the hilt about halfway up.

  Danforth used his remaining Mana to activate Target. This ability highlighted weak spots on his enemy and gave a bonus for hitting those spots. Danforth struck with precision, his blade driving deep into the back of the king’s neck. As King Terrin died, his necklace flashed bright violet, and the castle screamed.

  You have killed Terrin Reya (Level 119 Dwarf Monarch).

  + 15,921 experience points

  Level up (x3)! You are now level 52.

  Congratulations, you have reached level 50 and can now upgrade to an Advanced class from the list of available options.

  Poisoner

  What you lack in strength, you make up for in guile and preparedness. This class may not have flashy Abilities, but nobody can stand against a poisoner who’s had time to prepare.

  Executioner

  The natural upgrade from an Assassin. The Executioner is a master at fighting unaware, singular enemies. This class will give you massive bonuses against single-target enemies. More so against ones that are unaware.

  Hit-man

  When you kill, it’s to earn. This class may not boost your damage output as much as the others, but you will gain gold for every kill.

  The rush of the experience felt like he’d taken the scent of a freshly dug tunnel and infused his entire body with it. It was unlike anything else in the world. But Danforth didn’t have time to celebrate or choose a class. He would consult with his father that night and decide then. Sheathing his dagger, Danforth retreated to the alcove, closing the tunnel behind him just as the guards burst into the throne room. If they’d been listening, one of them might have heard the faintest whisper as the words, “The king is dead, long live the king,” hung in the air.

  Chapter 1

  James opened his eyes and stretched. He lay shivering on a thin straw mattress, which he’d dragged into the only spot in the cell with sunlight. A threadbare blanket lay crumpled on the cold stone floor beside the bed. Wearing the blanket helped ward off the cold but stopped the sunlight from regenerating his Essence.

  On the wall opposite the window was the door, a thick, slatted slab of iron that took two metal mages to open. James could just barely make out a rough stone hallway lined with red-tinted torches through the cracks between bars in the cell door.

  Nidra sat on a similar straw mattress on the other side of the cell. They’d captured her alongside Lucien and Arik sometime while he had been trapped in the dungeon under the temple of Sytar.

  A group of hooded figures, probably priests of Sytar, had captured them and brought them to the dungeons underneath the Coliseum. At least these were regular dungeons and not the magical kind. The guards had separated them, with Arik and Lucien in a cell together, and Nidra alone. Needless to say, she’d been glad to see him when they’d thrown James into the cell. She wasn’t sure exactly how long she’d been alone, but it hadn’t been fun.

  Somewhere nearby, a voice cried out in pain. The sound echoed eerily through the hallway, coming in muffled through the thick iron door. James looked up from his perch and scowled. Being locked up was awful. It was cold and boring. He hated it. He’d have tried to escape but didn’t have any clue as to how. His Arcane Teleport Spell wouldn’t let him go through solid objects, and he didn’t have any other methods of getting through the bars. Neither did Nidra. She’d tried to melt them, but the bars seemed impervious to magic.

  Finally, James spoke, just to break the silence, “Why do we always end up locked in a cell? For once, I’d like to get locked on a tropical island surrounded by food.”

  Nidra chuckled, but there was no humor in it. She was busy flicking her thumb like a lighter and conjuring a small fireball over it. James had seen her do it before, and it seemed like a nervous tic. Whenever it flared to life, the flame drove away the cold of the cell for a brief second before the chill returned. He’d asked her to keep a fireball going, but she wanted to save her Mana in case the guards dragged them into the Coliseum.

  James wondered how much Mana her habit drained but decided it didn’t matter. He thought back to the last time he’d seen his friends. It was back at Tannon’s Inn, right before Danforth had betrayed them. When the angry Dwarves had gathered around the inn to protest, the innkeeper had refused to hand them over. He’d instead helped them escape via a secret passageway hidden underneath the kitchen floorboards. It was there that Danforth had betrayed them. He had been a high-level Assassin working with the priests of Sytar all along. James still didn’t fully understand what had happened, nor why.

  The priests clearly wanted him to meet Ozure, but he couldn’t figure out why. He somehow knew everything was connected—his sudden appearance in Novis, the weird quest he’d gotten in the inn, this whole Sytar mess—but he was missing something. Some crucial piece of the puzzle. And what was up with the priests of Sytar? They’d almost fought the high priest. Were they working against him? Was Ozure?

  There was a loud rumbling outside the cell, drawing James from his thoughts. It almost sounded like an engine. He gave Nidra a quick glance, maybe she knew, but she shrugged.

  The noise came again.

  James and Nidra exchanged another worried glance and crept to the cell door. Just outside was a Dwarf on a stool.

  Name: Finian Iris

  Race: Dwarf

  Level: 23

  Class: Soldier

  Finian was not the most pleasant-looking of Dwarves. His uniform was dirty and disheveled. His ginger beard was stained brown around the edges from alcohol and unwashed vomit. Neither he nor the stool had been there when James arrived.

  Finian let out another loud snore. He was slumped over but still balanced precariously on the stool. One hand clutched a bottle of some kind of liquor while the other rested on the hilt of his sword. James could smell the sour stench of stale alcohol on the guard’s breath and wrinkled his nose in disgust.

  James leaned toward Nidra. “You know, the guard looks awfully flammable right now. Do you think if you caught some of the alcohol fumes in the cell on fire that it might travel through the bars and light the soldier up? I bet he’d light like a candle made of kerosene. The explosion might even be big enough to blow the cell door off its hinges.”

  Nidra grinned at him, a real grin this time. “Not a bad idea. I have just the spell.”

  Fingers wove in elaborate gestures as Nidra gathered her Mana. An orange glow built up around her hands, and the arcane energy crackled. She pointed a finger at the door where the smell of alcohol was the strongest. A stream of fire exited her index finger and shot towards the spot. When it hit the alcohol-infused air, it ignited and sent a wave of fire across the door. But none of the fire left the cell.

  “Damn,” James sighed. “I guess it was too much to hope that might work.”

  Nidra nodded. “It was a good thought, but like it or not, we’re stuck here until they let us out.”

&nbs
p; That was a sobering thought. This wasn’t a video game; there wasn’t an escape programmed in. That didn’t mean there wasn’t a way out. He just needed to be smart about finding it.

  ***

  Heavy footfalls broke James’ concentration as the sound of metal striking stone accompanied a group of Dwarven guards marching down the hallway. They were decked out in full plate armor and led by an older Dwarf sporting an enormous red beard. With the flecks of grey running through his beard, the Dwarf almost looked like he had a wildfire growing off of his chin.

  Name: Linnaeus Igno

  Race: Dwarf

  Level: 31

  Class: Squad Commander

  James watched as Linnaeus threw back his head and let out a booming laugh at something another one of the other guards said. He responded, then turned to look back up the hallway. The grin slid right off his face when he saw Finian slumped over in his chair, snoring softly.

  Linnaeus approached Finian and kicked out at one of the legs supporting the stool. With a sharp crack, the leg flew off of Finian’s chair and struck the opposite wall. The chair collapsed and sent Finian sprawling across the ground.

  The inebriated guard let out a wild shout as he fell. Hitting the ground with a heavy thud, he lay stunned. The other guards broke out into uproarious laughter, and one of them clapped Linnaeus on the back. “Nice one, Captain.”

  Finian rubbed at his red-rimmed eyes, which were glazed over. His skin was flushed and looked almost as red as his beard. Linnaeus took a step forward, towering over him—as much as a Dwarf could tower over anyone. The commander glared at Finian. “And what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

  “Gahrding,” Finian slurred. He let out a little cough.

  “Oh, okay then.” Linnaeus smiled and extended a hand down in a friendly gesture. Finian reached to take Linnaeus’ outstretched hand. The guard captain lifted him up halfway before Linnaeus let go and shoved Finian back. The drunk Dwarf fell back to the ground.

  Linnaeus’ tone grew dangerous as he glared down at the drunk guard. “I said, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  Sensing the change in tone, the rest of the guards shifted nervously. Linnaeus glanced at them and snapped, “What are you doing standing around watching? We have an important visitor coming. I don’t need you standing around like a bunch of morons and embarrassing me.” He gestured to Finian, who was groaning on the floor. “I have to deal with this.” He punctuated his words with a heavy kick to the Dwarf’s ribs.

  Finian groaned in pain and clutched at his side, but Linnaeus didn’t even glance down. He took the time to stare at each of his soldiers. “Now get to work,” he snapped.

  The guards snapped to attention and their plate armor clattered discordantly. As a unit, they marched down the corridor and out of sight. As soon as the last one faded from view, James heard the clattering intensify. It was as if the guards wanted to get as far away as possible as quickly as they could.

  Linnaeus reached down and grabbed Finian by the uniform. He hoisted the Dwarf up to his feet and steadied him with a hand on the shoulder. The guard captain glanced from side to side. His eyes stopped on James and Nidra, and he glared at them through the bars. James felt a shiver run down his spine. Still, the guard’s eyes soon flicked past them and back to Finian, who’d managed to stand without the captain’s helping hand and was leaning heavily against the wall.

  In a much softer tone, Linnaeus said, “Finn, buddy, you can’t keep doing this. It’s the third time this week you’ve shown up drunk like this. I can’t keep covering for you. The others are going to start asking why you’re still here. Why I haven’t filled out any forms to report you.”

  Finian glared at him. The slight head movement unbalanced him, and he stumbled, his hand disconnecting from the wall. Linnaeus grabbed his arm and steadied the guard, who stood there swaying and said nothing.

  Linnaeus waited a few more seconds for an answer, but he continued talking when none was forthcoming. His voice had taken on a pleading tone. “Please, Finn… It’s the third time this week you’ve shown up to work drunk. You’re lucky I’m the captain; otherwise, you’d be in a cell right now, cousin. You know as well as I do the punishment for drinking on duty. Captain Kieran would lock you up in a heartbeat.”

  Finian spoke. His voice came out hoarse as if he’d been crying. “Jus leamme lone.” He looked away from Linnaeus to the wall.

  Linnaeus sighed heavily, keeping the gentle tone in his voice. James could tell he was getting impatient. “Look, Finn. I know it’s been a rough week, but she’s not coming back.”

  Finian turned slowly so that he could look at his captain. He wobbled as he turned but didn’t lose his balance. He cleared his throat, then spat directly on Linnaeus’ face. The gob of spittle hit Linnaeus on the cheek and dribbled down into his mustache.

  James let out a small squeak of laughter before he could contain it. His breath caught in his throat as Linnaeus tensed, but the Dwarf didn’t glance at James. James breathed a sigh of relief.

  Linnaeus’ voice was firm but had no trace of anger when he next spoke. “You need to go home. Hell, if it will make you feel better, take this and go to a brothel.” He withdrew a heavy gold coin from the pouch to his side and dropped it into Finian’s hand. “Just… You can’t keep doing this. Especially not today.”

  Finian shook his head. “Buh whaboutt my post?” he slurred, waving his hand around wildly and in no discernable direction.

  “Don’t worry about it, just go. I’ll cover for you.” Linnaeus took Finian by the shoulder and spun him around. He gave Finian a little push, and the drunken guard stumbled away toward the exit.

  Sensing an opportunity to learn more, James asked, “Who’s co—”

  In one swift motion, Linnaeus drew a mace from his belt and smashed it into the bars of the cell with a reverberating clang.

  “Quiet down, prisoners,” he ordered angrily.

  “Hey, he was just—”

  Linnaeus interrupted, his voice low, “I said quiet, prisoner. Do you want a trip to the torturer?” He gestured down the hallway where they’d heard the screaming earlier.

  James and Nidra just stared at the man. His voice had taken on a darker tone, and his expression had changed entirely.

  Before either James or Nidra could decide what to do, a distant door creaked open and more footsteps approached. The first figure who entered was a Dwarf that James had never met before.

  Name: Kieran Dier

  Race: Dwarf

  Level: 71

  Class: Berserker

  Kieran was big and broad, burly even for a Dwarf. He had a series of blue gemstone trinkets woven throughout his beard and an angry red scar that ran across his left eye, sealing it shut. His bulk appeared to take up almost the entire hallway, but none of it was fat.

  Linnaeus snapped to attention, and saluted. “Commander.”

  “Oh, relax.” The commander waved a hand, barely sparing a glance for Linnaeus. He was focused on the Dwarf who’d entered behind him, a Dwarf James knew well. “He’s all yours, sir.”

  James glared at the Dwarf who’d just entered.

  “Danforth,” he growled.

  Chapter 2

  Danforth was dressed in what James could only describe as a ninja’s outfit. He wore a set of well-fitted black leather armor that almost seemed to absorb the light of the hallway, dimming it and making it hard to see any of his features. He wore a black hood and carried a series of daggers and other tools along his chest. He’d also leveled up since James had last seen him and had chosen his Advanced class, something called an Executioner.

  Name: Danforth Sand

  Race: Dwarf

  Level: 52

  Class: Executioner

  Two figures in identical dark robes accompanied him. Their robes were marked with a crossed hammer and wand that had been scratched out and overlain with a dagger. They wore similar hoods to Danforth’s, but theirs were equipped with face coverings that obscu
red everything but their eyes. James couldn’t tell anything about them; their status screens were blank.

  “Hey there, James.” Danforth waved cheerily. “The lovely commander,” he gestured at Kieran, “brought me here to see you.” He gave Kieran a nod. “You can go now. I’ll see myself out when I’m done here.”

  The commander’s mouth tightened to a line, and his hands bunched into fists. A dull red glow pulsed out from his skin, and he screwed his eyes shut in concentration.

  Danforth watched the commander struggle with an eyebrow raised and an amused smile on his face. “Commander?” he asked in feigned concern.

  After a few seconds, the glow faded. Kieran opened his eyes and turned to Danforth. He opened his mouth, said nothing, then closed it again. Turning stiffly, he took Linnaeus by the shoulder and guided the captain away.

  James barely noticed; he was still glaring at Danforth. He had no idea what to say to the Dwarf who’d betrayed him so viciously. Finally, he settled on, “Why are you here? Couldn’t find anyone else to stab in the back?”

  Danforth chuckled at a joke James didn’t get and replied, “Nothing like that. I just came to collect my reward for a job well done.”

  Still whistling cheerily, Danforth pulled a thin metal rod from one of the straps running along his chest. He took two pointed darts from a slit on the side of his boot and inserted them into the rod. Slowly and methodically, without breaking his tune, he placed the metal rod to his lips and blew twice in quick succession.