And why go far? That yellow adder thought it was hunting us, but it turned out the other way around. Gorgie had long been an avid fan of snake meat. Just the sound of him chomping away!
And now it had been three weeks since we left the explorer village. Honestly, we did spend a few days putting around nearby in hopes one of its inhabitants would return, but nobody came to visit the settlement other than scavengers.
We went back to the place where the scouts hid the dinghy and a few bags of supplies. But something had already wreaked havoc on the stash spot. Based on the huge amount of animal tracks and excrement, the local fauna had made a true feast of our supplies.
If I had any hope left of discovering a hint, looking through what was left of our things made it go up in smoke.
Takeda admitted to the blackblood mother that he had a map. But he neglected to mention what form it was in. I for example also have two maps – in tabs. Seemingly, the captain must have meant something like that.
Overall, at the end of the day we decided to head north along the river Morta toward Narrow Lake. First of all, other than the destroyed explorer village, it was the only way I knew to go. And second, Sly Redtail’s countrymen might know something about the hunters. I understood it was a foolhardy plan. But I was utterly ignoring the treacherous thoughts about how I was only coming up with justifications for my aimless wandering around the endless dark continent.
I took another look at the happily purring cat and glanced at his characteristics. I put all free silvers into his particularly important figures and left just a small reserve – sixty silver tablets. I was keeping them up my sleeve specifically for Thorntail’s Jump. If I understand everything correctly, this spell could be brought up to level three now that he had hit level fifteen.
Okay then, let’s give it a shot.
An instant later, a system message appeared notifying me of a successful and long-awaited advancement.
Finally!
Let’s see what that got us.
― Thorntail’s Jump.
― Level: 3 (0/80).
― Type: Magical ability.
― Rarity: Rare.
― Description:
― Using magic, thorntails can get behind opponents in an instant and become temporarily invisible.
― Effect:
― Be instantly transported behind an opponent.
― Temporary invisibility duration: 20 seconds.
― Requirements:
― Intellect – 5.
― Expends 70 mana points.
― Note:
― Cooldown time: 4 sec.
― Range: 50 feet.
Great! Cooldown time was down, while invisible time on the other hand was up. The new jump distance figures filled me with glee. Honestly, mana expenditure had gone up, but with a fifteen-hundred-point supply – it wasn’t lethal.
I took one more glance at the harn’s characteristics to update my picture.
― Ferocious Harn.
― Name: Gorgie.
― Level: 15 (0/136000) .
― Status: Loyalty to master (permanent).
― Mind: 1/1
― Strength: 211/225
― Agility: 209/225
― Accuracy: 150/225
― Intuition: 15/15
― Wisdom: 30/30
― Animal instinct: 30/30
― Speed: 207/225
― Flexibility: 190/225
― Intellect: 150/150
― Health:150/150
― Endurance:150/150
― Mana supply:1150/1550
― Life supply:1150/1550
― Energy supply:1150/1550
― Scale armor: 75/75
― Defense: 750/750
― Damage: +746.4…+2379.1
― Bite: 75/75
― Paw swipe: 75/75
― Pounce: 15/15
― Animal regeneration: 30/30
― Hunter: 47/75
― Fisher: 29/75
― Resistance to Hexapod poison – 7/75
― Thorntail’s Jump.
― Level: 3 (0/80).
A-hem! Now this is a far cry from the half-dead level-five cave cat I found on the bank of a subterranean river. I puffed out my lips in satisfaction, looked at my pet’s figures and smiled. If I made even approximate calculations, I’d invested a whole fortune into Gorgie. And I was sincerely proud of the result!
While taking the tablets from my backpack, the slot with the orbs caught my eye yet again. I stroked my chin and thought. After the battle with the blackbloods, when I came to my senses a bit, I finally realized what a powerful weapon I had on my hands. Based on the notifications, the lightning, powered up by darkness, was brought up to level ten for the attack. And it didn’t merely immobilize enemies, it also did a respectable amount of damage. To everyone that got hit, other than the mommy. She had good magical defense.
So, I was in no rush to convert the orbs of darkness into sparks. First of all, it would be stupid to deprive myself of such a potent trump card. And second, cliché as it may have been, I was afraid to test the sparks on my artifacts. What if I ruined something? Too bad the gnome didn’t have an item for me to test it on when I offered. Then I’d know how to do it.
There was one other aspect related to using the orbs of darkness. A hint about the fly in the ointment there would have been nice. After activating dark lightning, I lost five hundred reputation points with the order of monster hunters in the blink of an eye. One more activation like that and my reputation would dip below ten thousand.
I wonder what would happen then. Would I lose the rank of senior hunter? And what if I used the orbs another twenty times? What’d happen then? Would my reputation go negative? Would I cease to be a hunter? To be frank, I didn’t want to find out. Yes, I often grumbled about my forced induction into the order, but now I was aware of every advantage my position brought. At a certain point, I decided to use the dark spheres only at the most critical moments.
While my brother slurped down snake meat, I caught myself thinking that the sounds the harn made weren’t bothering me one bit. I was used to them.
Then my thoughts smoothly returned to the events of last week. As it turned out, all the spooky campfire tales told to little kids about the terrible Dark Continent did not line up with the true state of affairs. In other words, normal fish swim in the rivers, normal birds make nests in the trees, and normal deer and mustangs graze the endless fields and valleys. Without a doubt there are many dark beasts around. But it doesn’t quite look like the whole huge continent had been swallowed by Darkness.
Beyond that, it was entirely possible to live a peaceful life here. Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at the big huge serpent carcass. Hm... alright... relatively peaceful. As long as you keep your head down, unlike Gorgie and me.
I had every basis to say that, because we had discovered a small nonhuman village in the valley.
It happened seven days ago under, to put it lightly, not the nicest circumstances. As we stole through the woods to the river in hopes of doing some fishing, we ran into a giant spider.
After the memorable battle with the hexapod in the caverns of the Crooked Mountains, Gorgie had learned to hate all spider-like creatures without exception. So I was forewarned about the devious trap the spider had woven across the animal trail we were following.
But alas, not everyone could boast of such great assistance. We discovered several victims in the spiderweb. One of them in particular caught my eye. At first I thought it was a dead gnome, just very little and thin. But then the system told me it was a halfling.
I won’t say anything with full confidence but, to my eye, the dead pipsqueak looked to be around thirty years old. Shorter than me by two heads. Clothing and footwear made of furs. As for weaponry – a crudely forged little hatchet. The unfortunate soul’s short gnarled fingers were clenching a short knife. He’d clearly tried to the very last to cut himself down from the spiderweb. On
the ground right in front of his hanging body there was a small knapsack.
Gorgie gave it a sniff and told me the halfling had died two days ago.
I rifled through the knapsack and discovered a small flagon of soured milk, several stale flatbreads and a rock-hard piece of dried meat. Ants had been eating at all of it with great pleasure. There was nothing else in the bag, which led me to the think the wee fellow must have lived somewhere nearby.
Gorgie quickly found his tracks and we headed out in search of the halfling village.
By midday, the forest came to an end and we emerged into a clearing. A small hill there made for a convenient viewpoint over the valley.
It was a little village composed of two dozen little clay homes with straw roofs. Surrounded by a high stockade wall. Garden plots and allotments pasted to it on all sides. In the distance, I could see a herd of grazers in the fields. Either sheep or goats. Little gray wisps of smoke wafting from the stove chimneys. Dogs barking. Children shouting. From a distance, it looked like a normal human village.
We didn’t approach the halflings. Who could say how they would react to us? We decided to observe them for a few days.
The next day, a few carts drawn by stumpy little ponies entered the village from the north. Based on how joyously the locals greeted the new arrivals – they were either family back from a long journey or friendly neighbors.
The pipsqueaks spent all evening and night making merry. Fairly loud happy music was playing. They set a long table in the middle of the village and, within a half an hour, the women had it weighed down with all kinds of tasty treats. The men rolled a few barrels out next to the table as well. Must have been the local beer, wine or ale.
I have to give the pipsqueaks their due: despite the obviously important celebration, their settlement was guarded by ten soldiers day and night. This is not some little village near Orchus, where one old sentry would be plenty. Here the locals understand perfectly well what they risk by being absent-minded or slovenly.
The halflings feasted another two days. All that time, the arriving travelers and villagers were trading vigorously. Seemingly, all this time I’d been watching the visit of a merchant caravan.
By the end of the week, the guests started packing up to leave and we decided we’d better “see them home.”
We were lucky. The trade caravan travelled along the river and we were able to follow them without leaving the forest that ran along its bank.
By the second day of our trip, while the halflings were setting up camp for the night, I decided to investigate. In the middle of the night, I covered myself with a canopy of invisibility and went down into the valley toward the camp.
When I was just twenty paces away, the halflings sounded the alarm. Unbelievable! They had detected me. And that meant that at least one of the diminutive merchants must have had great senses. I had to hurry back to the forest. I didn’t try any more such experiments either.
And the halflings were clearly on guard after that night. They doubled their security detail. Picked up the pace. Didn’t tarry at encampments. We even had to fall behind a bit one day so we wouldn’t set off the merchant’s nerves.
Over the next few weeks, the caravan we were safeguarding visited another two small settlements. Those ones didn’t celebrate though, probably because the merchants had already been through on their way south. They just spent the night and got back underway.
By the end of the last day of the second week, the caravan made it to quite a large village. I counted two dozen large households and forty smaller buildings.
This settlement looked much better defended than the previous ones. Other than a high stockade wall and sturdy gates, I saw a ditch filled with sharp stakes and watchtowers with a watchman in each.
And that was where it all happened...
We made camp deep in the forest. But I couldn’t get to sleep – Gorgie woke me up in the middle of the night.
“Blood. Death,” he told me, motioning toward the village.
“Let’s go!” I said shortly and we headed for the clearing.
I heard the sounds of combat before we got close. The halflings were in the midst of a pitched battle. Once we reached the last line of trees, I finally caught a glimpse of just who they were fighting.
They were bipedal creatures of medium height. They looked most of all to me like lizards that walked upright. Long tails. Snakelike heads. Long clawed hands and feet.
The beasts were many. They were storming the village from all sides as a matter of fact. The high walls were no obstacle for them. The beasts easily scampered up and disappeared into the village. There were three of them watching the assault from afar. It’s plain to see – the commanders. They were noticeably larger than their underlings. Massive flat necks, elongated heads – exactly like king cobras.
The halflings were obviously losing, but still not giving up. I could see that the logs of the stockade wall had come apart slightly in a few places and nimble halflings were coming out through the gaps, trying to hide in the darkness. The defenders must have been trying to send messengers out for help. But alas, the enemies caught them all and tore them to shreds on the spot. I shuddered. An awful sight.
I wanted to tell Gorgie that we were leaving, but a slightly taller halfling caught my attention, standing on the roof of the highest building in the middle of the village. He was standing with his arms outstretched toward the lizards and balls of fire were shooting out of his hands. A mage!
The invaders obviously didn’t appreciate the fire magic. Small fires started where the balls landed. The lizards burned surprisingly well. The fire was sapping all their desire to carry on the assault.
Other than fire, the mage was using a ghostly thorny branch I’d seen before. Sarkhaat’s grandson had used the exact same spirit to try and attack me in the Wastes. As soon as I thought of that, I felt a shiver run down my spine.
There it is! The halfling mage is using a spirit! And if that is so – there is no way he could have absorbed it without an altar! That means he must know where to find an altar! And where there’s an altar – there’s a portal as well as a hunter structure of some kind!
I need that mage!
But how could I explain that to the bloodthirsty lizards?
Meanwhile, the mage disappeared off the roof and didn’t come back. The last truly effective ember of resistance had been snuffed. The halflings had lost the battle.
The gates flew open and a wave of attackers poured into the village. And after them, taking their sweet time, the commanders followed.
* * *
I spent the entire night waiting. Screams of pain and despair came from the village. I did feel sincere pity for the unfortunate little folk, and I would have liked to help them. But I am not suicidal.
The mage most likely died. Torn to shreds. I doubt the lizards let him live. He just roasted so many of their brethren.
The slaughter carried on until sunup and, near morning, a procession of halfling prisoners appeared in the gates. Hm... And here I thought they were all dead.
The halflings had ropes looped around their necks that were tied to long poles. Walking in short steps, they trudged off to the northeast. The lizards were walking upright next to them with no-nonsense looks, flogging the poor little folk with sticks to keep up their pace.
And then two of the commanders appeared in the gates and just as unflappably followed after the train of captives.
In the end, an hour later, the village was practically empty. By my estimation, around ten lizards were still inside along with one snake-headed commander. There were also halflings there. Mostly wounded, of course.
“Now ten – that’s no hundred,” I said to Gorgie.
“Hrn,” he agreed.
“Then let’s go!” I said and took the first step, activating canopy of invisibility.
We reached the still wide-open gates quickly. As we approached, our noses were struck by the familiar odors of blood, shit and smold
er. Cautiously stepping over the corpses of halflings and the lizard-headed creatures the system called “draks,” I was making for the middle of the village. That was where the voices of the remaining prisoners of war were coming from as well as the wailing of children and lamentation of women.
— Attention! Your Mind score is high enough to activate the “Language of the Halflings!”
— Would you like to activate it?
The Dark Continent (Underdog Book #3): LitRPG Series Page 25