Barrow King: The Realms Book One (A LitRPG Adventure) Read online

  Barrow King

  Book One of the Realms

  C.M. Carney

  Barrow King - Book One of The Realms by C.M. Carney

  www.cmcarneywrites.com

  © 2018 C.M. Carney

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact: [email protected]

  Cover by Lou Harper.

  https://coveraffairs.com/

  Dedication

  To my father, Kevin Carney.

  I could not have written this book without you.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

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  The Realms Book Two

  Dedication

  LitRPG

  More LitRPG

  1

  T He shadows crept in from the corners, stretching, grasping at Brynn as she walked down the dim hallway. She rushed down the hallway past dozens of secure doors, trying to ease calm into her frayed nerves. Sweat chilled her. The small hairs on her arms stood on end leaking heat into the cool air.

  There wasn't much time. Let it be enough. Please be enough. She cursed her clacking heels, advertising her presence to anything with even the most dullard of ears. She rounded a corner, forcing calm into her nerves and the smile that had charmed millions warmed her face. This is it. This is the last chance. It goes to shit if I fail.

  Reynolds looked up from his desk. Brynn’s grin grew wide and warm. She liked Reynolds. Better still, Reynolds liked her. A deep breath brought calm to Brynn’s mind, but all Reynolds saw was the way the silk of her blouse expanded.

  “Good evening Miss Caldwell,” Reynolds said shifting his gaze to her eyes in embarrassment. “I didn’t expect to see anyone in the Dungeon tonight of all nights.”

  “How many times have I told you to call me Brynn? At least when we’re alone,” Brynn grinned, a crooked smile bringing a flush to the burly man’s face. Her touch to his arm, such a simple gesture, so easily missed, became Reynolds’s entire world.

  Damn. How easy deception comes these days. Brynn swallowed her doubts. There was too much at stake for guilt to turn her course.

  It only took a moment for Reynolds’s to regain his professionalism. With an effort, Brynn saw the man bury his desires under a veneer of responsibility. “I thought everyone was up at the gala?” His tone hovered on the border between curiosity and suspicion. Brynn had to ease those thoughts back.

  “You know Mr. Bechard, always some last minute tweak.” To heighten her authority, she held up the pulse drive, forcing her hand steady. It was a perfect copy of the one that Alistair carried at all times. It was a master key to the Realms.

  Reynolds nodded and sat upright. Brynn didn’t think the ex-military man could be more at attention. Even he knew the tiny device was the literal key to power. Brynn inserted the pulse drive into a slot on Reynolds’s security desk. A tense moment hung heavy in the air before a panel swooshed open on the blast grade metal door. A biometric scanner powered to life, the green glow adding a sinister hue to the room. Reynolds stood and held his hand over the scanner.

  Reynolds hesitated and Brynn saw his shoulders tense. She could almost see his thoughts. Why would the VP of Public Relations need access to the room behind this door? He paused, palm hovering over the sensor as doubt thrashed through his brain.

  Brynn’s mind was lightning, seeking an out. "And here I thought I was higher up the corporate ladder," Brynn said adding a sexy pout to her voice. "It should be Schechter down here, not me." Brynn paused, finger to lip. "But Mr. Bechard said I'm the one he trusts so I guess that’s something.”

  Reynolds’s shoulders relaxed. He too thrived on the approval of Alistair Bechard. Reynolds's reverence was almost religious, akin to being chosen by God.

  Brynn heaved a silent sigh of relief as Reynolds activated the sensor pad and turned with an intense stare. He held the handle in a fierce grip, muscles tensing and releasing as his mind battled.

  “Typical Alistair, I’m sorry, Mr. Bechard,” Brynn said, mustering schoolgirl embarrassment at her calculated faux pas. “He probably decided that the Dragon’s Claw Inn needed cream colored curtains instead of eggshell.”

  A smile crossed Reynolds’s face. Everyone at Sacrosanct Integrative Networks knew the big bosses obsession with perfection. Bechard had a literal army of programmers, but they had only the smallest input on the project. Bechard handled all the core coding. Reynolds chuckled a tad. “That’s what makes him the best. Always willing to go that extra inch.”

  “Paint the underside of the drawers,” Brynn said, repeating one of Alistair's favorite mantras.

  “Paint the underside of the drawers,” Reynolds said in response as if it were a religious phrase. He pulled the door open with a fluid motion. Brynn flowed past, tracing his arm with a light touch as she passed.

  "This has to work," Brynn thought forcing calm with a measured and confident pace. She neared the corner. One more turn and her quarry was hers. Reynolds’s sharp voice called out.

  “Miss Caldwell.”

  Brynn took a slow calming breath as she turned back, remembering the man’s history, the man’s training. Brynn knew the things he could do. She smiled as he came into view.

  “Don’t take too long,” Reynolds said. His intense stare chilled Brynn. Had she conned Reynolds, or had he been playing her? Seconds became hours before a grin eased Reynolds’s face. “If anyone deserves the party upstairs, it’s you.”

  Brynn masked her relief under a veil of embarrassment. “I’m just a girl who talks to people Reynolds. I’m the least important cog in this machine.”

  “You’re much more than that ma’am. Much more.” Reynolds smiled and eased the door shut with a hiss and a metallic clang. Brynn’s heart raced. Locked in a literal dungeon. Cool and dark with no way out.

  Brynn turned the corner and entered the Nexus Chamber. The long room pulsed with heat despite the frigid air pulsing from the vents. Long rows of linked quantum cores shot into the distance. The quantitative power in this one room was staggering. Brynn walked up to the control dais as a large holo-vis projector came to life.

  Brynn inhaled, gripping the pulse drive in her fist. Reynolds f
eared the small device as much as she did. It was the key to a new world. A world unaware of what was coming. She shook with the full understanding of the desperate gamble she was taking. One that may very well cost her life. A gamble that might save millions more.

  Brynn plugged the pulse drive into the slot on the desk. Swirls of light pulsed inside the small device and a moment later a calm voice rose in the room.

  “Access granted. Welcome back, Mr. Bechard.”

  Brynn glanced over her shoulder one last time, knowing she was alone, but still needing to look. She pulled a second pulse drive from her bra and knelt. Gentle pressure against the dais caused a panel to slide open. Brynn plugged the second drive into the backup access port and stood.

  Brynn’s fingers sped across the keyboard seeking the hidden directory Sean had installed. His risk was as big as hers, bigger even. If Alistair knew what Sean had done, what she did now, both would disappear. Brynn was sure of that.

  A prompt shone on the holo-vis. UPLOAD PATCH? A blazing YES blinked in time with her thundering heart. Her finger hesitated over the panel. Thump, Thump. Blink, Blink. Thump, Thump. Blink, Blink. Her finger spiked down, and the patch cycled into the quantum core. It wormed its way into the billions of lines of code, altering the tiniest fraction of their purpose.

  A moment later the upload finished and the second pulse drive ran a purge, erasing any evidence. Only Reynolds knew she had been here, and he was so in awe of Mr. Bechard that he would never speak to the man unbidden. The risk was minimal. It had to be.

  Brynn allowed herself one last look into the infinite worlds contained in the room. “There is no choice. Alistair Bechard must be stopped.”

  Brynn pulled the pulse drive from the core. A deep sigh released pent up tension. The release that comes with knowing whatever happened now was out of her hands.

  “It’s up to you Finn,” Brynn said to the empty room. “I’m so sorry.”

  2

  F inn’s mind found solace in the menial task of emptying the bar’s dishwasher. The gentle hum, the sluice of warm water and the waves of steam rising from the spinning contraption was a salve to his nerves. He was so lost in this rare moment of calm he didn’t hear Doc.

  “Earth to John. Hello John.”

  Finn looked up and gave the haggard man an embarrassed grin. He still wasn't used to being John. His training and experience made slipping into an alter ego as simple as pulling on a pair of socks. It troubled him that this time was different.

  “Sorry Doc. Didn’t sleep so well last night.”

  “Yeah, you look like shit buddy,” Doc said with a grin and a heft of his empty pint glass. Finn grabbed it, held it up to the spout and flipped the tap open. Amber liquid flowed into the glass. “Got a lady friend keeping you up all night?”

  Finn chuckled. He liked Doc. He was a kindred spirit. A man who’d screwed his life up as much as Finn had. Yet, as he set the fresh pint in front of the older man, Finn couldn’t help wish that his demon was as simple as alcoholism.

  “No such luck Doc. The ladies aren’t scrambling to get with lowly bartenders.”

  “Stop playing coy John. I may be a drunk, but I’m no idiot. You’ve got many a hidden depth to you.”

  Panic rose in Finn as he eyed Doc. The man had been a McHenry’s regular years before Finn bought the place, so the likelihood of him being a plant were slim to none. Yet professional paranoia had helped Finn live this long.

  “Don’t be so uptight lad. A man is entitled to his secrets. Especially in this world. I have a few dark ones I keep to myself too.” Doc raised his pint in a knowing salute before taking a sip.

  But you don’t, Finn thought.

  Doc’s once a week ritual, fueled by guilt and alcohol was to regale Finn with the tale of his downfall. The man had once been a brilliant surgeon, but alcohol had seeped into his soul and a mother had died on his table. Doc didn’t even fight the inquiry. He’d forfeited his medical license the very next day. Now he spent his days at Finn’s bar, watching soccer and trying to drown his demons.

  Finn started cutting fruit for the day.

  “Can I turn on the news?” Doc asked.

  Finn nodded. He had long ago given Doc access to the large holovis behind the bar. It popped to life and CNN came on.

  “This is Snapper Carr, reporting from outside Sacrosanct Integrative Technologies,” a young man with a winning smile said. A crowd of angry protesters gathered in front of the stunning modern skyscraper. “Today, after a successful six month beta test the Realms was set to go public. The world’s first Neuro Integrated Massive Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game has wowed critics and beta players alike. Industry experts expected it to be a multi billion dollar money maker for Sacrosanct Founder and CEO, Alistair Bechard.”

  “I never understood these games.” Doc said.

  “Never been my thing either,” Finn said. “But I get it. Who doesn’t want an escape from the drudgery and pain of the real world?”

  Doc nodded and hoisted his beer in salute. Screams of anger and pain brought his attention back to the newscast. The crowd pushed forward against the wall of riot cops as rocks flew over the shield wall. An improvised Molotov cocktail exploded against the building. The cops pushed into the crowd, riot shields smashing and advancing.

  “Jesus,” Doc said, drawing Finn’s eyes to the holovis.

  “It’s just a game, isn’t it?” Doc asked stunned.

  “Things have become violent here,” Snapper Carr said, ducking at the noise.” All because this morning, instead of opening the Realms to the public, Sacrosanct cut off all access. A short press release from Sacrosanct blamed the shutdown on a temporary glitch, but rumors swirling on gaming forums claim that access to the game has been blocked, perhaps permanently. The Sacrosanct leadership has been silent, unseen since the beta launch, giving some credence to the rumors. The question on many lips; what is Alistair Bechard hiding?”

  “The world is going to shit,” Doc said.

  “It’s always been shit, Doc.”

  “True that.” Doc switched the channel to a soccer game.

  The calm voice of the announcer melded with the task of cutting fruit, lulling Finn’s mind. His repetitive deftness with the knife eased the task into a meditative state. Once more he pushed the world away. He didn’t look up when he heard the door open or the scrape of a stool, but he sensed the man sit in front of him. There was a whole bar, why did people always have to invade this one small haven?

  “Hello Finn,” a familiar voice said through a haze of pain. Finn gripped the knife harder, awareness surging to the fore. “Easy buddy. I’m just here to deliver a message.”

  Finn’s training took over and his eyes eased up. A haggard face surrounded the controlled smile of a man whose every aura suggested competence and ability. He was pale and hunched in pain. One hand hidden by the bar, Finn stared at the man, eyes filled with demand.

  Lex, is he transmitting? Finn silently asked his banner, the semi sentient artificial intelligence that shared his mind. Sometimes Finn was amazed at how quickly the public had become used to the idea of banner technology. Essentially banners were seriously advanced personal assistants akin to Siri or Alexa from decades before. But unlike those technologies, banners melded with the user’s nervous system. The old internet had been ill equipped to handle that level of bandwidth and had led to the invention of the lattice, an ever present field of information.

  Nope, no electronic signals of any kind. In fact I’d say he’s put his banner into standby. He is not connected to the lattice, Lex responded. Finn wondered why Lex was more ‘alive’ than his old Army issued banner.

  Let me know if that changes.

  Right-O.

  “My banner is offline and I’m not recording or transmitting. But you already knew that.”

  “Dalton,” Finn said, his grip tensing up on the knife. The gesture was pointless. If Dalton wanted him dead, he would be. This was something else. “How did you find me?”
r />   “I’m just that good kiddo.” A subtle shift in Finn’s eyes caused Dalton to lean back with a grunt of pain. The older man nodded and put both hands face up on the bar, showing Finn that he meant no harm. It was a classic technique and Finn knew he couldn’t trust it. “Don’t worry, I’m the only one who knows. I’m not here in an… official capacity.”

  Finn’s eyes widened in shock when he saw the blood covering the man’s hands. A hurried and clinical examination told Finn that Dalton was in bad shape. Finn rushed around the bar and caught his old mentor as the older man slipped from the barstool.

  “Doc,” Finn said in an urgent tone. Despite the alcohol fuzzing his mind, old training leaped to the fore of Doc’s mind. He leaped from his stool to help Finn. They eased Dalton onto the ragged couch near the pool table.

  Doc knelt and pulled Dalton’s jacket aside revealing a large wound in the man’s side. “Gunshot wound,” Doc said, “at least two.”

  “Three,” Dalton bragged with humor before a coughing fit pulsed bloody foam from his mouth.

  Lex, lock the front door and activate the closed sign. And keep an eye on the external sensors. We may soon have company.

  Sure thing bud.

  “Who shot you Dalton?”

  “Not the right question,” Dalton said with a wry smile. Finn flashed back to a time years ago when Finn was a newbie and Dalton assigned as his mentor. A day Finn now marked as the first step on the road that had led to his ruin.

  He was recruited the day after his discharge from the Army when Finn’s world was full of anger and regret. The discharge was classified as top secret. The Army wanted no details of the botched op getting out. Public sentiment against the war was already critical. The exposure of a massacre would have tipped the scales. To this day Finn did not know how his last employers had known who he was, known he was available. Known he was willing and that he burned for the chance to make amends.

  Forcing the memory back into the dark recesses of his mind Finn asked the correct question. “Why are you here then?”

  “Can’t an old friend pop in and say hi?” Dalton said with a grin, pleased that Finn knew the ‘right question.’