In Service of the Pharaoh (League of Losers Book #2): LitRPG Series Read online

  When the two departed, I turned back to the sherkh Huntress still standing beside me, who had listened to our whole conversation.

  “Anita, could you show those two the spot where you picked the child up?”

  “Why not? I need to go back that way anyway, my patrol route goes through there. And if I’m getting a ride there on a big monster, then I guess I should say thanks! But first, I have something to steal from you. You promised!”

  Chapter 10 [Kitten]

  Breaking Bad

  I WAS OVERJOYED with my new owner. Such grace, such poise! There were no hysterics, tears or dramatics after what happened. The Swordmaiden ran for a long time through the night, controlling her breathing and using the stars to guide her. Then she climbed up a tall and imposing cliff face, reached the top and shifted aside a heavy stone. Beneath it, there was a wooden tablet bearing strange letters — these must be instructions from the superiors of Avelia herself. What, she was planning to just ignore what had happened and keep doing her reconnaissance work as normal? It seemed so. Now that I didn’t understand at all. If I’d been beaten, disarmed and had my clothes cut off, I would have been in a mood for vengeance, for finding those bastards and beating them back. Or at least I would have reported the attack. Avelia was behaving as if nothing had happened. Sure, the kitten on the Swordmaiden’s shoulder casting Soothe over and over probably had some effect, calming her and giving her strength, but surely not this much… Was she made of steel?

  My mistress descended the cliff, now seeming in no hurry. She headed toward a tree that had been struck by lightning, then scrambled up it, agile as a squirrel. There, in a big tuft of dry moss, Avelia fell asleep. Incidentally, I’d learned that sherkhs come out of stealth when they sleep. I lay down beside her, warming up my mistress and purring happily.

  Soothe skill increased to level twenty-five!

  Avelia woke up with the very first signs of dawn. Another long run in the morning mist. I didn’t have the vaguest idea where we were. But my mistress seemed to know this area like the back of her hand. She reached a range of hills, found a winding gorge in the fog, followed it to a small cave with a thick bush shrouding its entrance. Here, as it turned out, Avelia had a hiding place where she kept a bag of spare clothes and a light blanket, flask, throwing knives, several crossbow bolts and pen and ink.

  With no shame at all before her little kitten, the girl got changed, distributed various knives into various pockets and stocked up on crossbow bolts. Yawning from her lack of sleep, she got down to work all the same. This time the subject of our observations was the village of Orshi-Ur, abandoned by the veichs, but resettled by humans. Avelia walked among the houses in the morning mist, looking through windows and counting inhabitants. She even waltzed into a few huts and shamelessly grabbed anything that could be useful to her — crockery, food, scraps of cloth. From time to time, the Swordmaiden came within a step of the unsuspecting residents as they went about their day. She listened in on conversations, watched people from an arm’s length away.

  Stealth skill increased to level twenty-four!

  I silently sat on the invisible Scout’s shoulder. Every now and again I was newly amazed by my mistress’s confidence in her own invisibility, her boldness. Avelia watched a human woman make some soup, then go off to call the other residents of the house to breakfast. The sherkh girl calmly ladled some of the cauldron’s contents into her flask. Then she searched the next room, rooting through bags while the humans ate. She stole a mirror and a battery-powered flashlight. I felt certain that the other sherkhs felt just as confident and free in other human settlements. They could be absolutely anywhere, observe the humans up close and steal anything they liked. It was terrifying to see.

  In the meantime, the disappearance of some of these things was noticed — shouting came from one of the houses Avelia had searched. I heard accusations of theft, the sound of people hitting each other. This didn’t seem to bother my new mistress at all. She just continued her antisocial activities. Some sunglasses, a comb, two bars of soap, a gas lighter, nail scissors, and a knife sharpener were now all under new ownership.

  Finally, Avelia left Orshi-Ur, came out of stealth and started to make a report for her superiors, writing strange characters on an old wooden tablet. No matter how hard I looked at the odd symbols, I couldn’t figure out if they were letters, numbers or if it was a hieroglyphic system. Done with her work, Avelia nimbly climbed up a gnarled and thorny tree and hid the tablet in a hiding place behind a cut-out panel of bark.

  Only then did my mistress finally relax. She smiled, took me off her shoulder and gently stroked my furry ginger chest.

  “Uti pora um Whiskers! Sio vai sherkh un lapi!”

  It seemed I was being praised for staying invisible in front of the humans. Just like a real sherkh. These were the first words Avelia had said since she woke up. I got a surprisingly generous amount of food as a reward, too — the Swordmaiden gave me practically all the meat from the soup. She ate the mushrooms and broth. Avelia sat down and watched me eat with a tender look on her face.

  I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the girl. Her work was hard and thankless. Rain or shine, she had to roam for days on end through wild and dangerous lands where she didn’t have a single person to talk to. Just beasts and strangers all around, and all her communication with her own people was through reports and notes left in hiding places, and minute-long meetings at night by the signal fire. I think I started to understand why Avelia so longed to talk to Sergeant, although their entirely innocent conversations had made her brainless brother resentful.

  “Meow!” I said in a calming tone, then rubbed my whiskery chin against my mistress’s leg. Avelia picked me up, hugged me… and suddenly started crying. This was the last thing I expected from the fearsome Swordmaiden.

  Avelia spoke for a while, in her own language, forcing the words out, about her hurts and her worries, her triumphs and failures. I meowed, let her stroke me. Suddenly, something raised my hackles. Some suspicious sound that had no place in a forest. I turned sharply away from my owner’s embrace, pricked up my ears.

  Translator skill increased to level thirteen!

  Radar Ear skill increased to level twenty-five!

  Voices! Humans talking. And getting closer! Then I heard a clear command: “Release the hounds!” Danger! The people must have found the thief’s tracks and sent out pursuit. Avelia noticed my alarm, scooped me up and disappeared into stealth. Then the Swordmaiden ran straight ahead and soon we suddenly found ourselves on the shore of a lake. There the girl clambered up a half-fallen tree and stopped, crossbow at the ready, looking around and listening tensely. The sounds were strange — howling, cracking branches, the thud of fast feet. I would have sworn there was a pack of dogs on our trail if only dogs existed in this world.

  I felt my mistress gasp sharply in fear when a whole pack ran out of the undergrowth before us onto the lake shore. A pack not of dogs, but of wiry reptiles running on their hind legs. They were seven feet long, with narrow jaws full of teeth on flexible necks. Short front legs and powerful back ones, with skin covered in sparse gray and black feathers. The beasts stopped at the water’s edge, span their heads from side to side, flared their nostrils, trying to catch the scent. And the beasts weren’t wild — each wore a leather collar!

  Pack Raptorhound. Level 34 Female. Bald Skull’s pet (7).

  Pack Raptorhound. Level 11 Male. Anaconda’s pet (7).

  There were another five at least. Thunk! The nearest ‘hound’ fell, a crossbow bolt in its head. The remaining six instantly turned their heads toward us. They didn’t seem to see us, but they could still hear and smell. Incidentally, the creatures really were in a pack — when the first one fell, the number above the others’ heads went down to six.

  “Get out of here, you idiot! You can’t take them all on!” I wanted to scream, but all that came out was a pitiful “Meow! Meow!”.

  In the meantime, as if on command, all six reptiles
rushed the collapsed tree, fixing on our position with ease. Several of the raptors emitted strange noises in unison, like a whistling shriek, and Avelia and I both fell from stealth. That was all we needed!

  Curse Magic! Slow! Slow! Slow! The Swordmaiden knocked down the nearest beast with a throwing knife as it jumped onto the leaning tree trunk. Then the girl suddenly stumbled and dropped the next knife before she could throw it. Too late, I heard the shot.

  ☠ Spike. Human. Male. Guild: The New Pharaohs. Level 60 Torturer.

  He was short, with a shaved head and huge muscles, his torso bare and tanned bronze. He wore army camouflage pants and jackboots. And he held a huge hunting rifle in his hand and was reloading for a second shot. But it wasn’t the gun that surprised me, nor the bright red color of his name above his head; it was the whole bundle of skulls tied to the terrifying man’s belt. The huge butcher’s cleaver hanging on the other side of that belt also drew my eye.

  In the meantime, more humans emerged from the bushes onto the lake side — wheezing, tired and red-faced, but still dangerous in their numbers. Many had crossbows and other ranged weapons.

  The Swordmaiden finally admitted the impossibility of victory. She jumped to the ground and began to run as fast as she could. I spent copious Magic Points to put a Slow curse on each raptorhound in turn.

  Curse Magic skill increased to level seventy-two!

  Mysticism skill increased to level twenty-four!

  A small tree nearby splintered into sawdust with a crack — the buckshot just barely missed the sherkh girl as she ducked and weaved through the woods like a fox. A couple more shots rang out, then the thicket hid us from our pursuers. The pack steadily fell behind. Each of the raptorhounds had lost at least half its speed; a level 72 Slow was no small thing!

  A couple of minutes later, Avelia sharply changed direction, heading for the fast mountain stream. My mistress spent some time running along through the water, then took off her wet shoes and kept running barefoot. She came out on the opposite bank, wiped her feet thoroughly with a scrap of cloth and threw the stone with her wet footprints on it into the river. Then she went into stealth and changed direction again, heading toward the hills. The furious shouts and threats of the worst possible punishments for the long-eared thief slowly faded into the distance. We’d escaped our pursuers, but I’d missed something — who was that chasing us? I’d never seen those raptorhound things before. And nor had I seen those humans in the village of Orshi-Ur. But I was sure those experienced players had been able to read the thief girl’s name when she fell out of stealth, and mine, which meant they got my real master’s name too.

  * * *

  Avelia’s wound was just a scratch — a shot pellet had hit the girl’s left shoulder. The Swordmaiden extracted the lead ball without the help of any Healers and bandaged the wound. Then she went back to her usual reconnaissance work, this time headed for the river village.

  Just a couple of hours later, Avelia and I watched from a tree top as the huge blaze tore across the river island. All the homes in Rumbler’s Refuge were burning. Tongues of flame licked the sky. The storehouse of logs and planks was a raging inferno. The fire ate even the palisade and the wooden bridge. The column of smoke from the burning village could probably be seen as far away as the snowy pass. But who could have set the village on fire? Not that I didn’t have my suspicions. On the wet grass, I could see a multitude of human footprints and strange clawprints that looked like they could have come from those raptorhounds. That group that chased us could have had something to do with the blaze. But where were all the people of Rumbler’s Refuge?

  And what was my mistress waiting for? The Swordmaiden was definitely waiting for something, lying in ambush and watching the river bank closely. Until now, she had been walking along the bank, in the shallows so as not to leave a trace. Then she threw away the stolen mirror and flashlight to confuse her trail, then set off again through the water for a while. Then she climbed back up onto the bank, carefully covering her tracks behind her. It felt like we were hunting someone. But who?

  Time passed, but nothing changed. I got bored. With nothing to do, I leveled up my Elemental Magic by buffing myself and Avelia with Stoneskin, shaking nearby branches with gusts of wind. Suddenly, my mistress tensed, then practically ran down the tree. In stealth, quietly, on her tiptoes, she moved toward the bank. There! One after another, booted footprints appeared in the sand. A sherkh! And I already suspected who it was.

  The specter walked along the bank, studying the tracks of the humans and raptors. Then it stopped, apparently watching the river island as its buildings burned. He stood a moment, then started walking along the bank again. Then he sharply changed direction, headed for some items he saw shining on the bank. That was just what Avelia was waiting for; she stood only paces from the lures, standing on a tuft of grass and leaving no trace in the sand. The invisible visitor stopped. The mirror suddenly disappeared. Now! The Swordmaiden didn’t shoot — she swung her arm and brought her crossbow down on him like a club.

  Wow! That did it! Arvedo Un Ponar appeared from stealth and fell to the sand, stunned. So that’s who my mistress had been hunting! That made sense; she set the assignments for members of her own group, knew where they patrolled. She knew he could be the only sherkh here. It had to be her useless brother, come to rubberneck at a burning human village. I was so wrong about Avelia! She hadn’t forgotten that despicable attack. And she hadn’t forgiven. She had just been waiting for her moment to get her brother alone to settle the score. And here was her chance.

  What would she do next? I wondered. Would she kill her younger brother, as she had done twice before? Humiliate him in the same way Arvedo had wanted to humiliate her? But no. For some reason, the girl seemed in no hurry to enact her vengeance. She just disarmed Arvedo, took his daggers and threw them aside. She didn’t even tie him up. She just crouched down next to him in the sand, waited patiently for her brother to come round.

  Fifteen minutes passed before the stunned sherkh finally twitched. He groaned, sat up, holding his thumping head in his hand. Then he checked his belt in search of his weapons, turned sharply and stared at his older sister.

  The brother and sister spoke at length and thoroughly, but my Translator skill was too low level and I wasn’t familiar enough with the sherkh tongue to even guess what they were talking about. The conversation’s tone was perfectly peaceful. Sergeant was mentioned a couple of times, as was Hundred Skull City. Maybe Avelia was warning her brother that Sergeant would be helping her with the challenge at the city. Maybe she was telling him that nothing tied her to the human, and suggesting that they both overcome the traps in the ancient ruins together. I don’t know. In the end, they came to some agreement, even hugged. Peace and harmony between the siblings again?

  But as soon as Avelia turned away to get a pen and ink from her backpack, the mask of courtesy fell from her brother’s face. No. This smelled nothing like peace and accord. The anger and loathing in his eyes were meant for the most evil of enemies, not for a sister. But when the Swordmaiden turned back round, her smiling younger brother was back again. Avelia carefully wrote something on a wooden tablet in an ornate script with black ink, then they both signed it in turn. Some kind of contract? Avelia sprinkled the tablet with dry river sand, blotting the ink, then put it away in her jacket pocket. She straightened proudly, swept her hair back, crossed her arms, and… suddenly, Arvedo attacked his sister!

  The girl didn’t defend herself. She let him thrust first one dagger into her stomach, then a second. The experienced level 52 Swordmaiden could have easily dodged the rather basic strikes, but she didn’t even try to move or stop him. What the hell was going on?! I realized already that the Swordmaiden didn’t plan to resist, that she had accepted her death. But what was I supposed to do? Sit calmly and watch while that psycho cackled and sent my new mistress back to the graveyard with one calculated stab after another?

  I couldn’t just sit there. Firstly, the
level 40 Scout would get too fat from all that experience by killing a high-ranked player at level 52. Secondly, I didn’t like Arvedo Un Ponar. I didn’t like him one bit. So… Curse Magic, attack my mistress! Slow, Slow, Slow! I had no time to do anything more — the Swordmaiden took another two stabs to the chest and stomach, then fell down dead. I had still technically taken part, so my Whiskers got a share of experience for helping to kill a player almost thirty levels above me.

  Curse Magic skill increased to level seventy-three!

  Stealth skill increased to level twenty-five!

  Your character is now level twenty-four!

  Reward: three skill points (total available: nine) and one mutation point (total available: twenty-three).

  Arvedo Un Ponar pranced in celebration nearby. He’d finally got even with his sister and leveled up to forty-one in the process. I bared my teeth. I had nothing but bad feelings about that Scout. No matter. You won’t be celebrating long, asshole, I thought.

  Transformation Magic! Transform into Cruel Arachnoscorp! I hit him from behind, from stealth, with my venomous stinger. That strike had never let me down. It was starting to become my kitten’s signature move. The sherkh’s lifeless body froze with a grimace of boundless surprise on his face. He fell down into the sand. I could take him out any number of ways, but I decided to try something new. Elemental Magic! Combined Fire and Wind! No longer a pathetic spark, but a tongue of flame blowing like a torch!

  Woah! It was almost a flamethrower! Although it drank mana like it loved the taste. I ran out of juice before my burning enemy lost all his health. I had to finish off the sherkh with ordinary bites.

  Transformation Magic skill increased to level thirteen!

  Elemental Magic skill increased to level ten!

  Elemental Magic skill increased to level eleven!

  Conjurer skill increased to level four!