Viridian Gate Online: Path of the Blood Phoenix (The Firebrand Series Book 3) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Summary

  Shadow Alley Press Mailing List

  Eldgard

  Command Center Craze

  A Hard Day’s Work

  Midnight Ambush

  Spindly Spokesperson

  Powered by Western Brew

  Naitee’s Call

  From Frying Pan to Fire

  Atmorja Mandir

  The Order of the Four

  Exarch of Asima

  Drake Drop-off

  Not So Incognito

  Return to Havasil

  Night Escape

  Dashing Hypothermia

  Den of the Mother

  Slavers

  Dragonborne

  Battle of the Elements

  Corruption of the Four

  The Shattered Realm

  Nirdhaarit

  The Grace of Jinks

  The History of the Four

  Secrets and Stillness

  Kusamay

  Cavernous Echoes

  Gift of Cernunnos

  The Horde

  Goddess, Child, Human, Monster

  Fire and Truth

  The Wolf Dies

  Asima

  Family Reunion

  Shakti

  Serenity of the Four

  Command Center Cool

  Epilogue

  Books, Mailing List, and Reviews

  Viridian Gate Online: Expanded Universe

  Books by Shadow Alley Press

  litRPG on Facebook

  GameLit on Facebook

  Even MORE LitRPG

  Copyright

  About the Author

  About the Publisher

  Summary

  CAN A SINGLE PROMISE change the world?

  Even with the Crimson Alliance formed, Rowanheath taken, and Carrera dispatched, the onslaught never ends for Abby Hollander. Keeping the spider queens in check and handling water provisions was never what Abby wanted to do with her life, but it’s what the war demands of her.

  To add to that never-ending list of demands, suddenly Naitee Mungal has need of Abby as well, and unfortunately, Abby already promised she would answer if Naitee called. Now Abby will have to go where no Traveler has ever been allowed before, face a series of grueling trials, and battle the gods themselves, risking everything to return balance and save her sorceric brethren.

  If she fails, the realm of Gaia could once again be overrun by the power of the elements. If she succeeds, she'll become the greatest Firebrand in all of Eldgard.

  Shadow Alley Press Mailing List

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  Eldgard

  Command Center Craze

  “TELL LI XUI THE NEW ballistae aren’t ready. He’ll have to make do with what the Imperials left us.” I ran the back of my sleeve across my sweaty forehead as I passed the information along to the front-line messenger, Toby.

  Toby followed me around the crowded war room as I made my way to the next fire that needed my attention. The light stone table was piled high with papers, some of them damage reports from the Crimson Alliance attack, but most of them were regarding the ongoing Imperial barrage.

  After we’d created our own faction, Carrera had demanded Jack’s head. Poor guy hadn’t even been the one to steal the Faction Seal, but he had figured out what it was when Otto and I failed in Alaunhylles. I thought it was only fair that he got to be the head of the faction. If I’d known that would send a system-wide message to every player and NPC in Eldgard, painting a fat red target on the back of Jack’s head, I never would’ve let him take that kind of fall in my place.

  Our only option had been to strike first and take Carrera’s stronghold, Rowanheath. Otherwise, we would’ve fought an uphill battle, slowly losing swampland until we were burned from Yunnam, and eradicated. Through some unsavory alliances, and with a lot of luck in a short period of time, we’d taken the Keep. Jack had used a rare and terrifying [Black Hexblade of Serth-Rog] to banish Carrera to the realm of Morsheim, permanently unseating the drug lord from power... or so we hoped.

  “He thought that might be the case,” Toby went on, and I could hear the next request coming in his tone. “Some of the older equipment on the wall has been badly damaged. He requests five crafters be sent up for repairs.”

  “Five?” I asked, deadpan, as I shuffled through the most recent report from the eastern watch.

  I could feel my blood pulsing in my temples and my heart hammering. The ambient chatter was piquing my anxiety. I hated working in this environment, and my body was responding appropriately with a cold sweat and a knotted stomach. What I wouldn’t give for some gods-be-damned peace and quiet, just for a few seconds.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a wince in his tone. I was becoming well known for my hard-ass replies, not that I was trying to be a bitch about it, but we were a small alliance fighting a massive, 26v1 Faction War, with limited resources and even more limited warriors... I approved of Jack’s choice to make our faction more centered around Crafting, but it had left us in a sorry state when it came to rebuffing Osmark’s constant assaults on our hard-earned Keep.

  Toby went on. “A fair number of the defensive weapons are severely damaged, and seven of them are completely out of commission.”

  I looked up from the casualty reports and scanned the crowded room until I found a familiar face. “Delani,” I said over the noise, and her head shot in my direction.

  “What’s up, Abby?” The tall, slender Wode girl squeezed past a group of tacticians chattering avidly with Otto.

  “I need you to go down to the Crafters’ Hall in Yunnam and ask for volunteers, levels twenty plus only and a specialization in weapons engineering. We need five crafters to come to the ramparts here and fix some damaged ballistae, catapults, and more. Vlad is not allowed to leave his workshop until those new javelin prototypes are complete, so rule him out now.”

  I moved out of the way for a messenger headed to Chief Kolle and went on. “Moreover, we need a shieldbearer for each to accompany them or be on standby. We don’t want our crafters taking an arrow to the face and going down for eight hours, or worse, forever. Take Toby with you. He’ll give the details on the downed machines and guide everyone to where they need to go.”

  The sylphlike Wode girl gave a playful salute as she declared, “Can do, Abs! Follow me, Toby.” Delani waved him out, flipping her long brown hair as she pivoted on her toe and swaggered out of the room.

  She had been a model for some high-class fashion designer back IRL, and while Delani wasn’t her real name, it was the only one she wanted to go by now, like Cher, or Skrillex. Someone had asked why she wanted to be a war room errander when there were perfectly good tailors taking on apprentices in the Crimson Alliance. She’d snorted in his face and walked away. I had mad respect for her, even though she was a bit aloof. She knew what she wanted, and didn’t have to explain herself to anyone.

  I felt a moment of relief for one of the many problems being solved, and took a deep breath as the pair departed.

  “Abby.” Chief Kolle’s voice boomed behind me, and I jumped with a start, spinning on my heel as the tiny sense of victory evaporated.

  “Problems?” I asked rhetorically with my best attempt at a grin.

  The chief’s face was calm, but I could tell the constant action was beginning to weigh on him as much as me. “Such is our life of leadership. Having problems to solve validates our pres
ence here, in the Command Center.”

  Damn, I really wanted him to get to the point.

  “The Spider Queen,” he said with a growl, “her children have been wandering too close to Yunnam. It’s making the citizens uncomfortable. They need to be patrolling the northern border, not investigating our activities in the city.”

  I ground my teeth. That monster was pulling on my last nerve. I’d had it out with her “representatives” once before, and I was not looking forward to doing it again. Chief Kolle wouldn’t speak with her, and no one else other than Jack, Otto, Cutter, and Amara had the stature within the Crimson Alliance to deliver messages like that to our... partners. Cutter and Amara were at the front with Jack, and Otto was trapped in the Command Center with me.

  “I will make it my priority first thing in the morning,” I said as I headed toward the war table, seeking the next item on my to-do list: Water Provisions.

  The chief followed me. “I will be returning to Yunnam. My people, I need to be there for them. The Spider Queen is just one threat that looms. There are creatures like Moss Hags, Swamp Naga, and more.”

  I nodded, then gave his shoulder a hardy pat. His people needed him, and he needed his people. “I understand.”

  “Tell my daughter to be safe. I will provide support for the requests back home, in Darkshard Keep. This should alleviate some of the”—he paused and looked about the sardine-crammed war room—“well, it should provide some relief.” He gripped my shoulder in return, gave it a gentle squeeze.

  “Much appreciated, Chief. I’ll let Amara know she needs to go home tonight.” The huntress Amara and I hadn’t had the world’s best introduction. She’d dropped out of stealth with three other hunters as Otto and I “trespassed” on her lands. It had been a rocky start, but we’d shared a few sarcasm-laden jokes since then, and at the end of one, I swore I saw a tiny smirk on her stoic face.

  Chief Kolle leaned down to my ear, his voice low. “You’re doing fine, try not to let it get past your shield.”

  I nodded again and sucked a breath through my nose as I let my shoulders drop away from my ears and released the tension in my jaw. My whole body was on edge with all of these people crowded around, and everyone asking me to do things I barely knew how to do. I’d heard the term “fake it til you make it” back when I worked for Osmark, and I was definitely faking it now. I’d been faction commander for a whole three days, and at war for all of them since Carrera made a point to come after Jack.

  The faction leader, Grim Jack Shadow Strider, had been at my side every day until today. Today, I was alone in the Command Center, and the ranking faction member. Everyone wanted everything from me, and I was hardly keeping it together, and barely delivering. I felt like a glorified address book, just listing off the names and locations of people for others to get in contact with.

  The chief shook me one more time with a laugh. “You are doing fine. It’s good.”

  I released the breath I’d been holding and bit back the icky feeling in my chest as I accepted the compliment. “Thank you. I’m trying.”

  He gave me one final nod before heading to the massive gold-laden door that led to the spiral staircase out of the Command Center.

  Voices rose and fell around the room, but instead of stealing my mental energy, the sound invigorated me to do something about it. I returned to the table, grabbed my Water Provisions report, and went to work.

  By the time the midday sun was beating down against the open windows, more than half of the reports had been handled or were on their way to being taken care of. Three crafters with the appropriate level and specialization had volunteered, and repairs were underway for the ramparts weapons. Toby was back several times, of course, to ask for more clerics—of which there were precious few, for reasons I still didn’t quite understand—more tanks, more weapons, more, more, more.

  This time was no different. Toby looked drawn. “We’re down another thirty-five frontline fighters, and I can’t find anyone who doesn’t have death sickness.”

  My eyes darted around the room as I searched for Otto and his entourage of tacticians, but I only found the tacticians. “They can help coordinate additional Traveler troops from the fresh recruits. It’s, uh, Kevin and Blaine, no, Blaise.” I shooed Toby toward the group and he was off.

  “Everyone!” Otto boomed from the doorway, a massive platter of fresh fruit in his hands. The room fell quiet in seconds. “Clear a space,” he said as he moved toward the table. Behind him was the resident chef, Venice Bordion, carrying a heaping tray of what looked like sandwiches.

  I scooped my papers up into my arms and scooted the little battle figurines out of the way just as Bordion dropped his tray onto the table, narrowly missing my hand. He gave a feral smile and turned away without a word. Guess he was still pissed about getting wrapped in spider silk and hung from his kitchen when we fought our way to the Command Center a few days ago.

  I wanted to say something to make him turn around and face me, but it seemed like Bordion would be forever sour. I doubted he liked Carrera, but he’d defended him gallantly, even if only with pots and spoons. The mid-fifties, French-accented man strutted from the room and was gone before I could get a word out. Maybe an apology, next time, would start us on the road to healing.

  “Here,” Otto said as he shoved a sandwich and a cup of water into my already full hands. My stomach groaned at the sight of the fresh leaves of lettuce, juicy tomato, salty cured meat, and crisp fresh bread. It smelled divine, better than any sandwich back IRL.

  “Thanks, Otto,” I managed to say before stuffing the delectable stack into my mouth. As expected, it was fantastic. The bread crunched and flaked as I bit down, vinegar notes of hidden pickles tickled my tongue, and creamy goat cheese evened it out. Amazeballs.

  I hummed my enjoyment as I chewed the sandwich to a pulp and shoved another bite in my mouth. My eyes did the rounds on the room to see the others doing something similar. I checked the game time: just about 2 PM. We’d been working since 6 AM with no breaks, and my debuffs were a testament to just how crazy it was.

  I’d experienced Tired, Hungry, Thirsty, and Unwashed debuffs, among some interesting others, but never had I seen Occupational Stress.

  >>

  Current Debuffs

  Occupational Stress (Level 1): You’ve been laboring long at a profession that is not aligned with your persona, and the wear is beginning to show. Intelligence is decreased by 15%, Spirit by 2x character level, and Stamina by 5x character level.

  Too much work and not enough play makes the citizens of Eldgard have a bad day.

  >>

  Seriously. Occupational Stress. I had a job to do. I didn’t need the game reminding me of how bad I was doing, or giving me debuffs to make it worse.

  I took a long pull of the ice-cold water Otto had given me and closed my eyes. Most of us had never done this. We were all doing the best we could, and I was sure no one faulted me for my shortcomings. Like the chief said, I just needed to keep doing the best I could.

  “You look terrible, worse than your fourth morning,” Otto said, and I opened my eyes to slits.

  My fourth morning had been the first after my transition. I’d felt like I was being eaten alive by giant fire ants from the inside, plus had the worst hangover I’d ever experienced. And I looked worse than that now.

  Otto sucked a breath through his teeth. “I just meant you look like you need a break.”

  I clenched my jaw. “There’s no time for breaks.” I ripped off one last bite of the sandwich and set it on the table with my cup. Jack needed me to run “this side” of the house, and this side literally never stopped. Then again, neither did his...

  “Five more minutes, everyone, then back to it,” I said with a chunk of bread stuffed in my cheek. Gazes ranging from annoyed to angry fell on me.

  I swallowed hard. “Osmark has a force twenty-six times the size of ours or more, and many of them are at the front, right outside these walls.” I quiet
ed, and the din of battle drifted through our open windows on the warm breeze. Angry faces around the room drooped to resentful, then somber.

  Not everyone knew it, but Jack and Osmark had come to a very reluctant truce—at least for the moment. From what Jack had told us, Osmark didn't want a full-blown war, he just wanted it to look like one. It seemed Osmark was still struggling to consolidate power among his bloodthirsty allies, and a threat from the outside would force his commanders to work together, under him. But I knew Osmark, and it would only be a matter of time before that balance shifted in his favor, and then he would come for us in force.

  The collective groan and shift to silence in the room was a reminder of how one statement could ruin morale. I needed to correct their backward slide into contempt and get them on the team’s side.

  “We’re fighting hard with our minds, and they’re fighting harder with their lives. We have to support them, because our support means everything.” Heads were nodding solemnly and I sucked in a breath. “Five more minutes for us, because they don’t get a break until they’re dead.”

  A Hard Day’s Work

  FIVE MINUTES WERE GONE in seconds, and then two hours turned to four in a blink. My Occupational Stress had gone from level 1 to level 3 by the time the sky was dark. Fortunately, the setting of the sun also reduced the enthusiasm of Osmark’s troops, and by 9 PM, the war room was empty except for me.

  I dragged the plush, red-cushioned chair from the wall to the fire. It scraped along the floor with a stuttering squeal, but I didn’t care. They weren’t my chairs, it wasn’t my floor, and a little bit of wear added character anyway. I dropped into the seat and my muscles melted. It was like twenty pounds of emotional weight dropped away into the soft red cushion, soaking into its weathered comfort.

  The day had been warm, but the fire gave me more than just the comfort of heat; it was energy. I could feel the power flowing into me, making me stronger. My eyes flicked to the corner of my vision as I noticed the Residual Heat buff had appeared. Right, that was it. Just the buff.