In Service of the Pharaoh (League of Losers Book #2)

by Michael Atamanov

  Edward and Max Dubovitsky took first watch, along with the new girl Margarita, who wanted to keep them company. The humans, although exhausted from the night’s journey, didn’t just sit by the fire; they used wire, steel plates and springs to craft clever devices — snares and traps that could come in handy for catching large beasts in the future. Including the half-mythical minotaur who our League of Losers was sent to catch, although nobody in the group knew anything about our target. How big was the minotaur? Certainly big, but how big exactly? As big as a bull, an elephant or even bigger? How many legs did it have? Did it have high Intellect, or was it just a dumb animal? The trio on watch discussed these questions in hushed tones, trying not to awaken their sleeping companions. At the same time, Edward Samarsky tentatively tried to flirt with the new girl, and she seemed to approve. She laughed at the boy’s jokes, blushed at his suggestive compliments, happily answered his questions. That suited me just fine — maybe our young Mechanic would chase after Margarita and leave ‘my’ Varya alone.

  Yeah, I wasn’t sleeping either. I was snoozing by the fire with half an ear open, letting Darkness groom me and warm me with her body. I wanted to find out whether Margarita would tell her new acquaintances of my ability to turn into a human, thereby revealing my most guarded secret. I also feared for the safety of Lady Victoria’s secret. I remembered the threats from the Pharaoh’s spouse with crystal clarity. But everything was fine so far — Margarita hadn’t mentioned me in the conversation once, and she limited her descriptions of life with the Pharaoh’s wife to a few short, general phrases. She explained her paralysis and missing tongue as a punishment for disobedience, and refused to go into detail. Soon I relaxed; Margarita seemed smart and careful enough.

  But there was something else keeping me awake. The recent battle with the sherkhs replayed over and over in my mind. It was a miracle that I’d survived. In fact, I hadn’t survived at all — it was only through a miraculous confluence of circumstances that my character was revived. That bothered the hell out of me. After all, I was deservedly proud of my fluffy Shadow Hexxer. I’d managed to create a truly unusual and extremely strong character, if not capable of taking out most enemies, then at least able to flee the most dangerous of them without dying. Predatory animals, night beasts, mighty steel-clad soldiers, quick and agile scouts with arrows — I feared none of them. But every encounter I had with a strong mage — be it Haze, Lady Victoria or the Elemental Mage from today — ended in my thorough and bitter defeat. I hadn’t just lost, I’d been crushed. Why was that? I had to figure out the reason and take measures to make sure it didn’t happen again.

  The most obvious explanation was that I couldn’t take control of my enemy’s mind — I hadn’t learned that kind of magic, it was another specialization. I also couldn’t fire off destructive spells like the unholy fireballs of last night, or a meteorite rain or a cone of cold. With time, I hoped to learn the fireball spell and other Elemental Magic spells, but they would never compare with the might and destructive power of a specialized Elemental Mage. My own spells — Mana Drain, Infect, Slow and Weaken — worked on enemy spellcasters, but had no instantaneous effect. As soon as I attacked, any mage could respond with something powerful and deadly that my little cat couldn’t survive.

  The only instantaneous ‘ultimate’ spell that I had, Paralyze, didn’t seem to work on the strongest enemies. And it didn’t just fail to work due to magic resistance; I got the message “Invalid target for this spell”, which implied that there was no way it could work. Maybe high-level enemies and those with high Intellect were protected from Paralyze? I found nothing about it in the game manual, but I’d already seen that Paralyze wouldn’t work on Alphas, Lesser Terrors or high-level mages. So how was I supposed to fight those enemies as a Shadow Hexxer?

  I remembered that the Infect spell had once worked well on a sherkh Shadow Mage. But again, it was far from instant, and that mage was only level forty-five. I could turn into an arachnoscorp or a snake to attack spellcasters, but only in the right circumstances, and only with time and preparation. No matter how I span it, I couldn’t see a reliable way to defeat enemy mages without adding to my arsenal of spells.

  But what if it was worth trying another path? Instead of increasing my offensive capabilities, what if I raised my defenses so I could survive better? Sure, adding a few hit points or improving my stealth wouldn’t cut it. But I could take Magic Defense. Surely there was a reason the game had suggested it to me so many times? And that would allow me to reflect the Lesser Terror’s attack more often.

  I read the skill’s description and my hopes faltered. Each level of the skill gave only an extra 0.25% chance to deflect enemy magics. Not much, to put it lightly. The skill wouldn’t proc often, and I couldn’t see a way for it to level up on its own, unlike so many other skills. I’d have to spend a bunch of free skill points to get any kind of noticeable effect from the investment. To increase the chance to deflect enemy magic to just one in three, I’d have to spend all my free points for the next forty-four (!!!) character levels. And then I’d probably still die, because my low Luck meant that even a one-in-three chance might never proc…

  I didn’t want to spend my free points. I was saving them for the Translator skill, so I could finally speak to the big oafs. And it seemed far better to spend them on my other skills than to level up a vague and entirely unreliable protection against spells. Better to skip Magic Defense for now, then. I’d save the free slot for something more useful. And about that — I should check Whiskers’ skills. I opened my character sheet.

  Whiskers. Kitten. Male. Sergeant’s pet.

  Class: Level 33 Shadow Hexxer.

  Character stats:

  Strength 8 (-30% damage dealt in close combat)

  Agility 19 (+25% movement speed, +25% reaction speed, +25% action accuracy)

  Intellect 25 * Your high Intellect gives your character special abilities

  Perception 19 (+25% range to vision, hearing, sense of smell)

  Physique 15 (No bonuses)

  Luck Modifier -2 * Your low Luck gives your character special abilities

  Character stats:

  Health Points: 265 / 265

  Stamina Points: 109 / 554

  Magic Points: 162 / 162

  Carrying capacity: 2.2 lbs * Inventory unavailable

  Mutagens used: 2 (18 points spent)

  Fame: 2

  Character skills:

  Curse Magic 78 (effectively 98)

  Radar Ear 31

  Mysticism 31

  Stealth 31 (effectively 51) * Translucency ability

  Soothe 30

  Transformation Magic 17

  Elemental Magic 24

  Tireless 18

  Bookworm 12

  Conjurer 10

  Translator 31 * Basic Animal Speech ability

  Shapeshifter 30

  12 of 13 possible skills at level 33 chosen

  Attention! 9 unspent skill points available

  Attention! 24 mutation points available

  It was interesting that two stats at once — Agility and Perception — had reached nineteen. That was good on its own and it promised useful bonuses in the future when the stats reached twenty. I knew what happened at twenty Agility — the Daredevil skill gave the ability to climb trees, jump long distances and squeeze through the narrowest of gaps. But there was no information about what happened at twenty Perception in the game manual. Oh well — I’d find out when I got there.

  As for the last skill to be chosen, I couldn’t come up with any good ideas no matter how hard I racked my tired brain. Just as I failed to solve the problem of fighting enemy mages. It seemed my little Shadow Hexxer wasn’t ready to go up against such enemies just yet. Well, every class had its strengths and weaknesses. My weakness was my vulnerability to magic, and that meant I had to keep my kitten away from enemy spellcasters. Others could fight them — my task was to be a support and help the big oafs by weakening their enemies and draining ma
na from them.

  I put my nine accumulated free skill points into Translator, leveling the skill up to forty. A mere ten points in this skill now stood between me and the Modified Vocal Chords mutation. I had more than enough Mutation Points, so very soon, this ginger cat would be speaking Human!

  With those sweet thoughts I drifted away, lulled by the warmth and meowing of the huge cat that thought herself my mother.

  Chapter 29 [Sergeant]

  Southern Ruins

  BOTH THE BURNT MALES died despite my sister’s best efforts. It hurt to look at Julie. She was in tears, just stricken with grief, blaming herself for not saving them, for not having good enough Veterinarian skills. It might have made sense practically to feed the raptorhounds’ bodies to our other animals, but nobody argued when Julie said we had to bury them. Edward and I took shovel in hand, and I… for the first time I saw a living example of what class specialization and character skills meant. Despite my high strength, visible muscles and sincerest efforts, the humble skinny Mechanic was at least three times faster than me as a digger.

  And strangely, while I worked with the shovel, the game system leveled up my… Hand-to-Hand Combat! That must have been the most suitable skill for this work in the Beast Catcher’s repertoire. Edward, on the other hand, clearly had specialized skills for simple tools. He worked like a bulldozer, and leveled up to twenty-one in the process. He didn’t even break a sweat, as if digging out an entire ton of hard-packed earth was just a warm-up for him! When there was nothing but a small mound left at the burial site, Margarita broke off from washing underwear in the lake nearby and rewarded the heroic digger with a kiss. I started noticing last night that our newcomer was attracted to Edward and encouraged any attention from him, and never missed a chance to show the boy her own favorable view of him. Who knew how that would go? Anyway, I was happy for them.

  We set off right after breakfast, or I guess it would be lunch. Somewhere around midday. Although it was kind of hard to tell the time — the weather was bad, the sky wreathed with dark clouds that blocked every last ray of sunshine. The trees bent to the ground in gusts of sharp cold wind. A thunderstorm was brewing. This had its advantages — the resulting downpour should wash away our tracks nicely. Although I doubted anyone even wanted us, that the sherkhs or anyone else would bother pursuing us. I suspected that last night, our League of Losers fully lived up to its name; we were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I doubted the sherkhs would put much effort into finding us.

  Although… I noticed that the description above the only surviving raptorhound in our group had changed.

  Pack Raptorhound. Level 52 Female (1). Masterless

  Masterless? Uh-oh… very recently, this raptorhound had been marked as belonging to Bald Skull. That meant the giant Beast Catcher had been killed by the sherkhs, and he had died his final death. And the assassination must have been planned in advance, with a view to weakening the New Pharaohs — the Beast Catcher did a great deal for them by providing raptorhounds and other animals. And that meant the second Beast Catcher known to the sherkhs should fear for his life. I called the raptor over and she obediently ran up, cocking her head, sticking out her tongue and even wagging her tail like a dog.

  My sister, riding up beside me on the Marsh Mistress, looked down. “She’s looking for a new owner and she knows you’re the boss around here. Give her something to eat.”

  The beast had already been fed that morning along with our other animals, but it wasn’t so much the food that mattered here as the ceremonial recruitment into the ranks of our pets. I took a big piece of raw meat out of a bag tied to the giant spider’s back, threw it to the raptorhound. Jaws clamped shut, a gulp, and the meat was no more.

  Taming skill increased to level sixty-three!

  Beast Master skill increased to level thirteen!

  One piece was enough. The description above the dark raptorhound’s head changed. She was now my pet. She couldn’t be much use without pack bonuses. I offered her to my sister to ride, and Julie accepted, although she pointed out that she couldn’t actually ride her without a saddle. I suggested that she choose a name for her new pet right away, but she seemed in no hurry. She’d been distant all day since her two scaled patients died, and she was still sniffling occasionally.

  Edward, who had been half-watching the taming of the raptor from Atlas’s back as he and Max toiled over some creation, raised his head and offered to make a saddle out of strips of leather and thick steel wire. But later, in the evening, because right now he and the Engineer were busy crafting some protective plates designed to strengthen the Marsh Mistress’s abdomen and front legs. Our cruel arachnoscorp siege weapon sure could use the extra armor — her natural chitin couldn’t always withstand sherkh arrows or the teeth of the night beasts. I had to pull no less than ten arrows out of the spider, and several of her eyes were burnt out from fire spells. The empty sockets oozed slime. The fate of the entire group depended on the survivability of our strongest battle beast, which was why our Mechanic and Engineer worked even as they rode, drilling and filing down bone scales and titanium plates to construct armor for the arachnoscorp.

  Margarita assisted them, helping to hold down materials with pliers and providing the necessary tools. The girl generally tried to be active and useful to all members of the League of Losers, no matter the job. She cooked and washed up, fed the animals and helped load and unload them, cleaned clothes. She even offered her services as a scout, though her skills weren’t much good for that.

  I understood her perfectly, and I knew it wasn’t just out of a desire to make friends and fit into the group. Based on the girl’s story, it was clear that Margarita had done something to anger the dread Lady Victoria and had been banished with the condition that she leave the territory of the New Pharaohs within two days. If the Pharaoh’s wife saw the girl again, she could expect to die the worst death imaginable. Margarita refused outright to say what exactly she had done to earn this hatred from her mistress, and I didn’t press the matter. But the only guaranteed way to avoid seeing Lady Victoria again was to level up to twenty-five fast, and then leave the sandbox through the energy barrier for the wider world. In that, our goals lined up perfectly.

  Suddenly, our column stopped. Varya the Scout, riding up ahead on the megasaurus, had raised a hand in warning.

  “What’s up?” I asked Varya, peering into the sparse bushes ahead.

  “I don’t know…” the girl shrugged. “I thought I saw movement. But no. I don’t see anything. False alarm, I think.”

  All the same, our Scout was in no hurry to start moving again. The winged veyer Avir Tan-Hoshi flitted down from the Marsh Mistress where he’d just stopped to rest, then flew a couple of circles over the bushes. He noticed nothing dangerous. He rose up higher toward the heavy low clouds, examining the hills dotted with sparse greenery. I examined the suspicious-looking bushes too, but saw nothing dangerous even with my night vision. It was worth checking out anyway, just in case. I called over the raptorhound and pointed at the suspicious greenery. The black female got the message and emitted a piercing howl. And… right before our eyes, in the thin bushes where it seemed even a hedgehog couldn’t hide, three sherkhs from Southern Garrison suddenly appeared, sitting on their haunches!

  It didn’t take long to find out if they were hostile — two of the sherkhs raised their crossbows and fired before any of us had time to react. The black raptorhound galloping toward them collapsed and rolled across the ground, two arrows in her chest.

  Eagle Eye skill increased to level twenty-five!

  “Nooooooooo!!!” Julie screamed, so loud that my ears rang.

  The little Veterinarian jumped down from the spider and ran over to the black raptorhound as it convulsed in agony. The third sherkh switched his aim from the raptorhound to my sister, but before he could pull the trigger, he reeled and fell on his side. Ginger Whiskers’ meowing showed that he was working at full steam, and the archer’s fall was no accident
. Nor were the strangely slowed movements of the other two sherkhs, who now rose as if in treacle, their legs barely moving. A coordinated volley of two or even three rifle shots interrupted their pathetic attempt to escape. One died right away — it was hard to live with your head taken off by a shot from an elephant gun. The second was only wounded in the side and fell, dropping his crossbow, then reaching at a sloth’s pace for the twin daggers sheathed at his belt.

  “Leave them! We need them alive! Uhm… At least one of them,” I was forced to correct myself, because Darkness had just leaped into the fray and finished off the paralyzed sherkh with a clawed paw, tearing the archer’s chest open along with his thin black bodysuit. “We need him to tell us why the sherkhs are following us.”

  I jumped down from the Marsh Mistress, disarmed the last of the sherkhs and tightly bound his arms behind his back with some wire from the Mechanic. My sister’s pet Snowflake was trying to nip at the wounded sherkh. I chased her away and set the man on his feet.

  Tamir Vai Ugashi. Sherkh. Male. Guild: Southern Garrison. Level 41 Tracker.

  His injury wasn’t life-threatening, especially since Varya was already bandaging it. The prisoner’s eyes darted between me and the human girl, his gaze burning into us with fury, but he couldn’t do anything. He just kicked his legs, trying to hit one of us, but it only looked comical under the effect of the slow spell.

  “Load him up onto Atlas!” I commanded, then walked over to my sister. She was kneeling before the raptorhound’s body.

  I expected hysterics over the pet’s death, but Julie was too busy for tears. She’d already pulled both crossbow bolts out and was hurriedly binding the raptorhound’s bleeding wounds, using healing magic here and there — blue sparks zipped from the tips of the girl’s fingers into the beast’s body.

  “I can save her, brother! And I will!” The dark cloud was gone from the little Veterinarian’s mind. Now she was at work, and full of determination. “I’ll call her Laika. She’ll guard our house. We’re going to have a new house one day, right? We aren’t just going to wander the world forever.”