But that didn’t mean I had to sit and do nothing. I was a Beast Catcher. That was my strength, and I had to keep getting better at it. I brought the Marsh Mistress to the shore of the oxbow lake and introduced her to my creeping crocodiles. That seemed to go fine. My pets showed no aggression to each other. I even checked how deep in the water the cruel arachnoscorp could go — just in case I had to escape a pack of night beasts atop the Marsh Mistress. It turned out the arachnoscorp could go anywhere in the lake — the water reached up to the monster’s chest at its deepest. Great! If things got bad, I could escape through the water. The Marsh Mistress would get through, but the pack of beasts would meet the ever-hungry creeping crocodiles.
On the whole, the slippery swampy shore of the oxbow lake was similar to the Marsh Mistress’s previous abode. She liked it there. All the same, the Marsh Mistress was nervous and itching to do something. When I gave her permission, the arachnoscorp leaped into action, weaving a giant spiderweb outside the palisade, crafting herself cover. I didn’t disturb her.
I cleaned mud and leeches off the creeping crocodiles, fed them some tasty loaches and tried to explain to the armored pets that when their master’s life was in danger, they needed to react right away, not wait for a command. I don’t think Katy and Tick-Tock understood my pantomime, although the creeping crocodiles were smart, easy creatures to train. I could control them by snapping my fingers, by whistling. They understood voice commands better and better, although not when underwater.
Taming skill increased to level twenty-eight!
“And now, catch fish! Whoever gets the biggest will get all the rest of the treats!” I showed the river monsters the dozen loaches in my bucket.
The creeping crocodiles already understood the “catch fish” command, although they only obeyed it if they weren’t hungry. Katy and Tick-Tock loudly threw themselves into the water, kicking up waves and showering me from head to toe. Katy was the first to return with a catch, dragging a small rainbow carp and dropping it at my foot, weighing maybe two pounds. The monster considered her task complete and trampled over to the bucket, but I clipped her round the ear.
“Wait!”
A minute later, the huge Tick-Tock crawled out onto the shore, dragging a flopping eight-whiskered catfish that must have weighed over thirty pounds. Woah! Now that’s more like it! That fish alone would feed the whole village that evening. After giving the female just one fish, I poured the others into the male’s open mouth as she watched on. Tick-Tock’s jaw snapped shut and he stretched out happily on the shore. Katy quietly slid away, disappearing underwater without a sound. Was she really upset with her master? I tried to call her back, but it didn’t work — she wasn’t reacting to commands.
Ten minutes later, I was getting seriously worried. What if I’d lost control of the female creeping crocodile? Then the water suddenly started bubbling around two hundred yards away. Not in the oxbow lake, but in the main river! There was a battle going on in the water! Twenty-foot long Tick-Tock shot up from his sleepy sunbathing on the shore and sprinted across the narrow island, diving in to help his partner. After three minutes, the creeping crocodiles both dragged something strange and terrifying onto the bank: a giant living cluster of seaweed, a rustling mass of watery growth. I went closer, interested. Inside the mass of multicolored seaweed, I could just make out a bluish green river crab, six feet long and struggling hard, snapping its terrible serrated claws threateningly. Also, as I looked closer, I saw that it wasn’t seaweed enshrouding the creature at all… It was brown, orange and green threads growing right out of the crab’s body like fur!
ATTENTION! This is the first time humans have seen this creature. It has no name. Think of a name for it.
Now on the bank, scratched and covered in a multitude of pincer wounds, Katy opened her mouth in which she’d been carrying the creature by its left claw. With a calculated crunch, she cleanly bit off the strange beast’s head. Ashot ran up at that moment. He’d seen the unusual activity in the river from his post at the drawbridge.
“Woah! What the hell is this hairy crab?” our Baker asked, looking at the river monster in horror as it twitched in death.
Hairy Crab. Level 33 Male
The nameplate appeared and then immediately darkened, showing that the creature was dead. I smiled.
“It’s a Hairy Crab. You just named it. Can you cook it? Shave it first and it’ll go great with beer! Uhm, I guess we don’t have any beer…”
The cook scratched the back of his head in thought, pacing around the unfamiliar creature.
“Slow down. It’s only back on Earth where all the crustaceans are edible. Not the case here at all. On the contrary, so far all of them have been inedible . But I’ll try to make something.”
“Good thing we have some newcomers. We can continue the Pan’s Landing tradition of experimenting on them with new recipes.”
I’d said it as a joke, but Ashot’s reaction was unusual. The Baker got serious, glanced from side to side to make sure nobody was there to hear us.
“Sergeant… there can’t be two players with the same name, right? It’s just… when I was working in the kitchen for the New Pharaohs, I saw a list of ‘nobles’ — players particularly close to the pharaoh. We always saved the choicest cuts for them. Anyway, there was a player called Haze in that list. I never saw his face, but… I see a newcomer with that name and it worries me — could they have sent someone after me?”
Holy hell. What Ashot told me explained a lot, although it gave rise to new questions too. What could one of the ‘pharaoh’s nobles’ want with a tiny village on the other side of the snowy mountains? An escaped slave and even twenty-odd inhabitants that avoided imprisonment… How were they worth all this attention, all this effort? That ghost train brought in fifty new slaves a day… Anyway, if they wanted to capture the people of Pan’s Landing, then they’d have sent a whole squad of fighters, not just a couple of men.
“What’s that?” My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of wingbeats above me, and the roar of some great beast.
The creeping crocodiles dived into the water as if on command, hiding from the danger. I didn’t even have time to bind Katy’s wounds. My kitten dug its claws into my clothes in fear and climbed onto my shoulder. I span my head, trying to see the roaring monster. The sound came from almost straight upwards, only the thick clouds stopped me from seeing the flying monster.
“I don’t know what’s roaring at us, but we’d better sound the alarm!” Ashot ran to his post as fast as he could. Ten seconds later, the sharp sound of the gong resounded around the village.
Alarmed villagers poured out of the homes. My sister Julie ran to me in fear. I hugged her. Pan climbed up the watchtower with his hunting rifle, stared a long while into the thick cloud cover. He pointed toward an approaching shadow in the clouds.
“DRAAAGON!”
Chaos descended, everyone started running around. I didn’t hear what Shelly whispered to the Engineer standing next to her, but Max Dubovitsky’s echoing shout drowned out the noise:
“Don’t panic! The werewolf says the dragon is saddled. It’s the Cartographer!”
“Yes, it’s the Cartographer!” Pan confirmed half a minute later. “A rare guest. It’s been a year since we saw him last.”
I’d heard about the Cartographer from Pan already, and from Shelly. A traveling merchant that traded in all sorts of rarities, but news most of all. Deliberately neutral, he never got involved in any conflicts. Nonetheless, he was mighty and fearsome enough that none of the natives even thought of trying to rob him.
The flying black reptile landed right in the middle of the village, beating its giant wings and raising clouds of dust. It barely fit between the houses. What a beast! It was around sixty feet long and its wingspan was the same again. Anthracite-black scales all over its body. A bright red mane on its back. A long tail ending in a diamond-shaped horizontal stabilizer fin, or whatever the dragon equivalent was. A long neck, powerful
teeth and anger burning in orange-red eyes with vertical pupils.
Fiery Cliff Dragon. Level 212 Male. The Cartographer’s Pet.
Now that was a machine of death! I felt no fear before the dragon, but rather excitement, a wish to get myself one just like it, whatever the cost. I wondered, where did such dragons live?
A large and sophisticated saddle was attached to the creature’s back. On the saddle was a bright and multicolored closed tent. Along the reptile’s sides were a multitude of bales, boxes and even cages. Most of the cages were empty. Some housed mysterious animals unlike any I’d ever seen. I also saw prisoners in two cages: an older man in a rich suit and tie, but barefoot, sitting cross-legged. His name was The Philosopher. Must be the same guy Edward Samarsky mentioned. In the other cage was some kind of winged creature — a thin and exhausted boy in a dirty gray robe, but with scaled wings folded neatly behind his back.
Avir Tan-Hoshi. Veyer. Male. Level 34 Thief.
Veyer? Another sentient species that inhabited the new world alongside humans and veichs? Apparently so. The boy looked wiped out, barely holding himself upright.
“Stand back from the dragon if you wish to live!” boomed a powerful voice from somewhere within the tent. The inhabitants of Pan’s Landing hurried to step back.
A rope ladder with wooden steps descended with a crack, unfurling in flight. A fragile-looking and tall creature climbed down it, shrouded head to toe in a long dark cloak with a hood to cover the face. No matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t make out his legs or face. I wasn’t even sure if it was a man or someone from some other species, his clothes hid his shape so well. The dragon rider’s info was also scant:
☠ The Cartographer. Traveling Merchant.
The skull sign and bright red color of the name, and particularly the fire-breathing dragon behind him, made it clear to even the most foolish that the Cartographer was not to be messed with. The seven-foot figure looked around, paying no attention to the gathering people. As soon as he saw Pan, he walked straight toward the old man.
“Hello there, Pan! Where is Tootles, where is Curly? Are you really the only survivor of the old crew?”
The traveling merchant’s voice was strange, drawn-out, with a howling quality. Nevertheless, he spoke English with no trouble. Pan respectfully bowed low to the rare visitor, answered him:
“Afraid so, sir. I was the only one to survive the winter.”
“Shame. They were good men. Especially the young one, with the guitar. His songs were so soulful and true! And he might have lived on, had you but listened to me. I told you that the winter would be fierce here in the snowy mountains, that you should build farther south. Alas… Anyway, I’m actually here on business. I have heard tell that you have tamed a cruel arachnoscorp. I saw from above that this information is correct. I am willing to buy this skill. And the beast itself too, if it is for sale.”
Max Dubovitsky strode ahead, pushing me and Julie aside. He bowed slightly to the merchant.
“A detailed map of the surrounding area all the way to the forcefield,” he declared his price. “And healing scrolls capable of treating grievous wounds. We can also sell you the skill of taming creeping crocodiles!”
The Cartographer stared silently and with interest at the Engineer for a full five seconds.
“You’re a little late on taming creeping crocodiles, stranger. I already bought that from the veichs in Orshi-Ur. And as for the cruel arachnoscorp,” the Cartographer turned in place and pointed a four-fingered hand in a metal glove at me, “I would like to speak to the Beast Catcher that caught it, not to a middle-man!”
I was pushed forward. With approval from Pan and Max, I led the tall guest to the riverbank to see my pets. The Cartographer asked the other villagers to stay behind and not interrupt our conversation.
* * *
Stopping next to the body of the hairy crab, the Cartographer leaned down with interest. He fearlessly parted the seaweed with his hand, examined the corpse. Even knocked on the hard shell with his metal gauntlet.
“I didn’t think these lived here. Over the barrier in New Mississippi, sure, but here in the scrub sandbox..? And a completely fresh specimen.”
The traveling merchant stuck his hand inside his jacket, dug around a while, pulled out a well-worn leather-bound notebook. He leafed through the ragged pages, found what he wanted, showed me a sketch done in pencil. The very same crab in perfect detail.
“The veyers use the spoiled flesh of these river monsters as a scent lure for large forest predators. Something in the smell attracts carnivores. They go mad for it. There’s enough toxin in the spoiled meat to knock out even the largest and most dangerous beasts. Then you can either tame the deadly predator or kill it. The fresh meat of the hairy crab is entirely edible…” The Cartographer fell silent in mid-sentence, looked at me, narrowed his eyes. “But all the same, I wouldn’t advise humans to experiment with it. Better to feed it to your creeping crocodiles. They’ll be able to eat it without any risk to their health.”
I nodded silently and the Cartographer changed the subject, at the same time pulling a couple of rolled-up parchment scrolls out of his jacket and offering them to me.
“Now, to business. I will give you everything your Engineer mentioned. An up-to-date map of this sandbox of yours from the mountain range to the forcefield, with all the veich settlements, all the rivers, all the forests. And I’ll give you a healing scroll for grievous wounds, but only one. Not because I’m greedy. It’s just the only one I have. Tell the others you got it for the arachnoscorp taming ability. In reality, this is my price for you to accept the Philosopher into your village. As for the arachnoscorp taming ability, name your price — tell me what you yourself need, not what that mouthy Engineer wants… Hey, I don’t like thieves! Scram, if you don’t want to sit in a cage like that veyer!”
That last was addressed to my curious kitten Whiskers, who had climbed up the Cartographer’s clothes onto his shoulder and was now persistently trying to get into the inside of his jacket. The merchant picked up the kitten by the scruff. My pet meowed pathetically.
“Hmm. Interesting…” The Cartographer examined the unhappily whining ginger kitten from all sides and… carefully sat him back on his shoulder. “Stay there! You’ll get yours. Sergeant, you wouldn’t believe how lucky you are to have this kitten!”
I stood uncertainly, not understanding what the man meant. A kitten was a kitten. He was ginger and had a limp. Apart from that, nothing out of the ordinary. When he saw my confusion, the Cartographer boomed out a laugh. Unhurriedly wandering further along the bank, he returned to the subject of the caged Philosopher:
“I saw the man at Hundred Skull City. He was sitting barefoot, cooling off his burnt feet in a stream. I landed nearby. He was hungry, so I fed him, gave him ointment for his burns. We spoke. First about life, about this and that. I don’t know how the conversation turned to matters of great import, the meaning of life and so on. He and I argued. Argued fiercely. In the end he caught me in a sophistic trap with absolutely no right answer. I wanted to kill him for that — I don’t like tricksters. But before I fed my hungry dragon, I made the Philosopher an offer: since he won the argument, he could have whatever he wanted! I have many goods, boxes full of interesting trinkets! He didn’t even bother looking. He chose his life. I am a man of my word, so I didn’t kill him. But he said nothing about his freedom, so I put him in that cage. I was so angry at him for his trick. Since then I’ve calmed down a little, thought about it, and accepted that the wise man is right about many things. In short, the Philosopher has earned his freedom. I want to release him into the wild, back to his own kind.”
As this conversation unfolded, if the nomadic merchant’s monologue could be called a conversation, we arrived at the creeping crocodiles and the cruel arachnoscorp. The Marsh Mistress had covered the whole lake shore in webbing, building herself a canopy and a hole that even had spiderweb walls.
“Wow, look at her!” The Carto
grapher looked into the hole with no fear and examined the Marsh Mistress as she hid within. “Do I correctly understand that you won’t sell the beast itself? Well, no matter. The tale of how to tame such giants is enough for me. Name your price.”
I named it, explained why I needed it. The Cartographer was silent a long while, then asked:
“Are you sure, Sergeant? Do you really want to interfere with the plans of a man considered a noble of the pharaoh — the leader of the largest human faction in your sandbox? And I’m not even talking about the risk, about how you might make a deadly enemy. It’s just that I personally know the player by the name of Pharaoh. For all his harshness, and I would even say cruelty, he nonetheless represents your race and does all he can to benefit humans specifically among the other competitor species. If the Pharaoh sent Haze on a secret mission here, into the territory of the veich peoples, then it’s nothing to do with you. It’s a far larger operation. Are you sure you want to act against those plans?”
It sounded alarming, even threatening. All the same, I stuck to my guns. The presence of Haze and his gang in Pan’s Landing was unacceptable. That meant I needed something to protect against psionic magic or even block any magic within a certain range.
“Alright,” the Cartographer agreed. “You’ll get my very own signet ring. It protects the wearer from any attempts to influence the mind. But it costs far more than the information on how to tame cruel arachnoscorps. So you’ll add another item from your backpack. From the right side pocket.”
I didn’t know what he was talking about. I took off my backpack, unclasped the pocket and… my eyes widened in surprise! Apart from a pack of fishing line and some hooks, there was a brownish green magic card sitting inside! One side showed an arachnoscorp, the other a complex rune flowing with all the colors of the rainbow.
A Cat and His Human (League of Losers Book #1): LitRPG Series Page 19