Indeed, the system tip said it was a Boytata, not an anaconda. The name started with a capital letter, so it was probably a personalized mob. This variety is an enhanced version of ordinary mobs, something like mini-bosses. They are rare and usually involved in quests. Not to mention, that they give more experience than an ordinary monster.
But, despite the abundance of monsters that we've come across we moved quite fast and without any issues. I felt we got lucky because of the size of the log and the speed at which we were traveling.
It took us literally half an hour to dart past a long stretch of the river. At the end, we ran into some rocky rapids, but didn’t get too scared and overcame them immediately. After that, the terrain finally leveled and, as I expected, the river slowed down and widened so much that I couldn't even see the boundaries of the channel. In some places, lone trees stuck out from the muddy water. On the left, one hundred and sixty feet from us, a group of hippos rested in the water. They looked peaceful, but to stay on a safe side, I decided to steer away from them.
An incoming call via the chat medallion came at a bad timing. I looked at Edge sideways, but she seemed to be too busy with wielding the pole, straightening the course of our log and taking it to the middle of the stream. According to my calculations, it was about a mile and a half to the area where we could possibly bump into vanaras, so we had to speed up.
"Hello?" I answered briefly, accepting the call.
The name of the player glowed at the bottom of my field of view.
Maverick. Who else could it be? I don't know that many people in the game yet.
"I got something on the Corsairs," the major said without further ado. "There are several trophies they got recently. You've probably heard rumors about the compass of Janji Hae."
The same Janji Hae? The famous Xy master, the scrimshander?
"Go on," I muttered softly, hoping Edge wouldn't hear me.
"The compass is magical, of course, but it doesn’t work. I mean, it doesn't point North. It's unclear where exactly it's pointing. There is a very thin and delicate hand. The description says that it is configured to search for some sort of fiery tears. And that it is impossible to get to the object too close—there is a chance that the hand starts malfunctioning and breaks as the result. So, even with very careful handling, the service life of the artifact is finite. It will probably find one tear at the most. With luck, a few. And then, it will break anyway... are you listening to me at all?"
"Yeah. Keep going."
"Keep going?" Edge asked me.
"Yes, I'm thinking out loud," I turned to her. "I think we should keep going until we get further down the stream. Do you see that stump ahead of us? Paddle in that direction."
"Anyway,” Maverick continued. “this artifact is just trouble. Its rarity is legendary—that makes it very valuable. But who knows what you're supposed to do with it? This is often the case with these items. Additional information is needed. From legends, books, reference materials... Perhaps, the artifact's full description will give some clues. I only know the basics. But I wouldn't meddle in it if I were you. It's not worth it."
"Why is that?"
"According to my sources, the corsairs didn't want to waste their time on the artifact and got rid of it by selling to someone. Not through auction, directly. So it's hardly something really valuable. Well, unless they have another one like that. Do you have any other questions?"
"Later," I said and hung up.
That wasn't polite, of course, but I really didn't want Edge to catch me using the chat medallion—it was my hidden trump card. Because of the high cost of these medallions, not every player had one: it made more sense to invest fifty gold coins in something that would be useful in battle.
Well, well... Compass... It’s not making anything clearer, but at least it gives me a lead.
I remembered Bao's words. The legend of the creation of life. Something about the ocean boiling with giant waves. The sky... The sky was crying fiery tears! I had a feeling that it was somehow connected! Xy legends and a compass made by Janji Hae—there must have been a connection.
Fiery tears of the sky... Could it be meteors?
I was distracted from my thought by Edge's shout. I started, looking for danger on the surface of the river, but the threat didn't come from the water. It was in the air.
The river here was so wide that even the branches of the shoreas didn't close in above our heads, leaving a patch of clear sky. That's where I saw winged beaked creatures about to nosedive toward us.
Because of their leathery wings, they could be mistaken for huge bats from afar. But this impression was deceptive. Their muzzles reminded those of alligators—long and full of small sharp teeth. In fact, they were more like pterodactyls—huge flying lizards with a wingspan of ten feet.
"Row to the shore!" I shouted, hurling the chakram at the nearest creature.
The sharp ring slipped on one narrow muzzle but hardly dealt any damage. The monster swerved to the side, touching the surface of the water with one of the wings. Heavy, like an overgrown goose, it flapped its leathery wings, rising again into the air far behind us. It seemed that they couldn’t maneuver very well, so their tactics were quite simple: first they hovered overhead, trying to plan out their attack, then they swooped down, and grabbed the victim in flight
Grunting, Edge wielded the pole, pressing it against the bottom of the river. Our log suddenly stopped and started to rock as if trying to knock us over into the water. I turned my head, looking for a suitable tree to hook the Stinger to, but we were too far from the banks. Here, in the middle of the river, we were in plain sight for air attacks.
Two more pterodactyls swooped down on us, and I barely had time to duck, clinging to the log. I felt pain like I was whipped—one of the attackers touched me with its wing or tail. The tails of these flying alligators were long, rat-like, but scaly. I was more bothered by their small but sharp teeth and feet, that had bird-like curved claws. The creatures were not very large: without wings, they'd be a little smaller than a human. That's why I didn’t think they had the strength to lift me or even Edge into the air. But they could easily knock us off the log. Moreover, there was about five of them circling right above us, another dozen were coming from the south.
I started grinding too, trying to push off the bottom with my staff, but it was hard to do as it was deep where we were—Edge could barely reach the bottom with her pole. The vanara cub squealed abruptly, restlessly going back and forth on the log. He made a perfect prey for the flying monsters. I wish I could have helped him, but I was barely able to hold on myself.
In the meantime, a dark long silhouette showed up in the water to the right of us. I propped up trying to see better, but then plopped down on the log, ducking—I just got a glimpse of another flying monster, who managed to claw my shaved head. It felt like I was struck with a hot rod. I wanted to bite my teeth into the log from the pain. It’s good that pain in Artar doesn't last long—it's often like a flash a few seconds long.
I propped up again and looked at the lazily cruising beast that was now parallel to us. Well, hello! Judging by the size and short muzzle, it wasn't an alligator.
Gbahali. You're all we need, water glutton! Good thing, he hasn't noticed us yet and is just floating there.
I looked up at the sky. More than a dozen winged creatures circled above us, coming to the right angle for an attack. The question now was, who would kill us first: the winged monsters or the overgrown alligator. We were so helpless at the moment, drifting slowly to the middle of the river. Edge had to drop her pole and, like me, spread out on the log, to avoid being knocked down by the creatures.
A crazy idea flashed in my mind, but given the situation, there was no time to ponder about its sanity. I stretched out my right arm toward the gbahali and shot the Stinger in its direction. The rope didn't reach it, but his huge carcass twitched slightly—I think I managed to pierce its skin. The titanium tip and magic-enhanced penetrating p
ower did the trick. No kidding—this could break a stone, not just some scales.
Tightly grasping a branch, protruding from the log, I activated the pull. Our log started to rock and get closer to gbahali, which slowed down slightly too. It was definitely heavier than our makeshift raft, so it pulled us from the middle of the stream, a few feet closer to the shore.
In another couple of seconds, the monster's hard bumpy back was literally at arm's length from me.
Nice halt. What can I say?
"What are you doing?!" Edge's frightened voice came from behind me.
"Crawl over here and grab on to me!"
I ducked down from another attack of the flying creatures. There were as many as three of them, and they flew in a row, with an interval of a couple of seconds. Fortunately, this time they missed. I still haven't recovered from the first wound to my head—blood was oozing profusely flowing over the collar.
I saw a thick branch hanging over water ahead of us. Now I needed to throw the hook and use the Stinger to pull up. But the rope wasn’t long enough yet and I had to wait until we got closer to try.
The body nearby started to move, raising waves. A huge ugly gbahali head popped out of the water and turned in our direction. Its round cloudy eye the size of a plate stared straight at me. He saw me!
I released the Stinger and almost slung the tip directly into my eye.
That would hurt, and gbahali, fluttering in the water, will surely knock us off the log and sink us to Neptune’s hell. We gotta wait a little. Just a few more seconds…
"Mongoose!" Edge pleaded in a trembling voice, clutching my boot.
The gbahali was turning around in the water, opening its mouth wide. This mouth was the size of a pickup truck, so it was an impressive sight. I tried not to pay attention to it and watch the approaching branch. Because of the freaking alligator, we were moving much slower than before. Paddling, he slowed down the log and turned in our direction, scheming how to get us.
Perhaps, meditation and classes with Bao instilled the knowledge of Zen in me. At least the creepy smelly mouth just a few feet away from me didn't faze me: I was content, waiting for the right moment. I only had one shot, so I had to calculate everything to fractions of a second.
Despite its size, the monster was taken by the current just like our log, and after a few seconds, we were at the right distance from the longed-for branch. I had a trained eye, so I estimated well when the rope should be able to reach it.
Stinger Release!
The rope stretched to its limit and almost pulled my arm out of the scapula. I darted forward and up, following the Stinger.
"Hold on!" I shouted, activating the pull-up.
Without further instructions, Edge clung to me like a drowning person to a lifesaver. The Stinger pulled us up like a winch but dragging two players instead of one went much slower than usual.
I should take a note that it has a weight limit.
Gbahali had disappeared in the depths of the river, but within a few seconds, suddenly emerged, holding its head upright, and lifting high above the water surface. Edge shrieked, tucking in her legs—the huge mouth snapped loudly, closing a few inches from her. I shouted, too. From this angle, the monster's mouth looked like a black well—going in there guaranteed no way back. It wouldn't even have to chew us.
"Climb up!" I shouted.
The rope had already retracted, and we had to climb up on the branch, which was difficult to do when someone was hanging on you, clinging to the ankles.
I didn't have to ask Edge twice. Carelessly, clutching me, she climbed up, in the end, almost stepping on my wounded bald head with her boot. Now, there was just me on the rope, swinging like a lure over water. Fortunately, the gbahali gave up on trying to get us, and its huge silhouette was already heading downstream.
With a jerk, I climbed onto the branch and firmly nestled on it, hugging it with my legs. Edge was sitting in front of me in the same pose, her eyes widened from terror. Here we were relatively safe: too high for the water creatures and with too little room to maneuver for the flying ones. The vanara cub, who literally flung up a branch on the rope even before we got there, jumped on my back and wrapped his arms around my neck, trembling. The ordeal must have scared the hell out of him.
For half a minute, Edge and I stared at each other in silence, trying to come to our senses. Finally, catching her breath, the assassin breathed out:
"Shall we walk now? It's not too far from here…"
I nodded.
Chapter 13. Sneaking Mongoose, Hiding Vanara
The basic laws of nature are best revealed in the jungle. Here, there are food chains, the never-ending struggle to survive and all that. Every animal here could be prey or a predator at the same time. All of them run, hide, adapt, and chase prey. Don't blink or you'll be eaten.
One thing sucked: I didn't feel like a predator myself just yet. Especially now, /when Edge and I were on our own, away from the large and well-armed squad—we felt like small animals, startled by every sound.
At least the assassin could slip into invisible anytime, so it would be easier for her, though she never used the advantage. I don't think she was showing solidarity to me. I didn't look up the mechanics of the game for this class, but I was pretty sure that invisibility had its own nuances, just like monk's techniques. She could have had a long rollback to the ability after use, or other consumables may have been needed. Otherwise, assassins would stay invisible all the time!
According to Edge, Terekhov's group was somewhere very close and it wasn’t moving. I wondered if they could have been killed and waiting near the nearest menhir? It would have been our best option, as strange as it may sound.
We moved slowly, partly because we were trying to do so unseen, but mainly because of the terrain. From a bird's-eye view, the jungle, probably, looked like one green carpet. The greenery masked all uneven surfaces. But here, below, we had to make our way through the terrible ravines. It looked like this part of the peninsula suffered from a mass bombing hundreds of years ago as it had copious ravines and hollows and rocks, protruding from the ground, resembling the tops of icebergs.
We spotted vanaras from afar. First, we heard them: their guttural howling and hooting sounds were hard to miss. As I got closer, I sensed the familiar emanations of the Source.
As soon as the cub heard the black vanaras, he started trembling and fussing. He even began to pull my ears, obviously trying to explain that we needed to turn back. I barely calmed him down, but as soon as we moved on, he started to panic again. That's when Edge volunteered to help. She plucked a red oblong fruit dotted with small seeds from a bush nearby. It looked like a strawberry but was harder. The cub grabbed it and immediately began to gnaw on it, quietly squealing with pleasure. He was so distracted by the food that it kept him quiet for a long time. Soon I forgot about him; he weighed no more than a cat and, sitting quietly on my back, he wasn't a burden.
Then we crept almost on all fours until we got to a position from which we had a good field of view. I must pay tribute to Edge who found this place. Yeah, the girl had talent. If I didn't know her in real life, I would have thought that this fragile avatar might be a disguise for some battered sniper, who was a bloodhound about real combat operations.
"Well, well," I muttered under my breath. "I see why they stopped. They're building another altar. And there are their shamans."
I thought we saw one of them during our first encounter with the vanaras— that skinny dark-haired monkey leaning on a gnarled stick that was his staff. This time, there were two more monkeys with him. All of them had motley outfits that could be seen from afar. Unimaginable piles of feathers, bones, fangs, painted strips of leather, and wood. The monkey muzzles looked even more frightening because of the white-red war paint.
One of the shamans clearly stood out among the rest due to his great height. Like the rest of the Whispering Oak tribe, he looked like a gorilla, squat and round-shouldered, with a hunched, powerful
back, long arms that reached almost to the ground. If he straightened up, he could be a head taller than Daniel—he looked to be at least eight feet tall!
It wasn't even his size that impressed me, but his loud booming voice, that made me tremble and feel the vibration in the solar plexus from his powerful bass, though I was standing a hundred feet away from him.
The head shaman's staff was more like a two-handed mace with a long handle. He was swinging this rattle over his head, howling some sort of a ritual song. Two of his henchmen danced beside him, moving with the grace of drunken epileptics. But that didn’t make me laugh because they just looked too creepy, especially in combination with their rhythmic chants. Instead of drums, however, they used primitive wooden rattles.
The bizarre design made of the peeled sticks, crowned with horned skulls, had already taken its place near the source of Qi, but the work seemed to be still in full swing, just being completed on another level. The tempo and volume of the shaman's chants increased. The vanara warriors—there were at least a dozen of them—gradually fell into some type of a strange ecstasy. They stood swaying to the beat of the rattles and staring at one spot. Even my little ward seemed to be under effect. The cub froze, his eyes open wide. I patted him on the back, calming him down, but I could feel his heart was pounding.
The prisoners were nearby. I was surprised to see that not only the Hounds were there but also a few gray tailed vanaras from the tribe of the Celestial Tree. All of them were in primitive cages constructed from flexible poles, bent and wound by vines. These cages were hanging on the branch of the nearest shorea like huge round Christmas ornaments. Each held about five people.
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