The Kartoss Gambit (The Way of the Shaman: Book #2) by Vasily Mahanenko Read Free Book Online Page A

around Beatwick — ones with an arrow-shooting habit. I had no time or inclination to look through the logs (it would become clear who was attacking me soon enough), so I took out my Tambourine and summoned a Healing Spirit, replenishing my Hit Points. Now I was ready for a fight.
    A minute went by that seemed like eternity, but no more arrows came. Could this be it? I lifted myself over the grass and had a look around. Silence, not a soul to be seen. So where did this strange shooter come from? And, most importantly, who was it?
    The reply came in the form of an arrow that hit me right in the chest. What the ...!
     
    Critical damage sustained. Hit Points reduced by 670: 900 (Critical Arrow Hit) — 230 (Physical defence). Total Hit Points: 10 of 680.
     
    I fell to the ground like a sack and fitfully gasped for breath. That hurt a lot! If I get hold of the bastard, I'll tear him limb from limb! At least I didn't have to take the arrow out: it had already vanished from this world, leaving only a memory in the form of pain behind. I summoned two Healing Spirits, getting myself back to full Hit Points, and stayed quiet. This clearly wasn't a player attacking me, since no message appeared telling me that I was being attacked by a PK-er. So it looked like some mob was out looking for fun. Well, we'll see who has a latent death wish in Barliona. A mob can't sit long on one spot; it really must go and see the result of its shots. Imitators, what do you expect? Stupid and predictable. The main thing was to lay low until that time. Although, truth be told, he's a good shot, the bastard. Nearly killed me! I even had my Endurance go up to level 11. So much for my worries about levelling up. Yeah right. All I had to do was wander some distance away from the village: I'd be hit by more than my fill of levelling up.
    I didn't have to wait for long. Five minutes later I heard soft steps, sliding quietly over the grass. Well, well, you wannabe-Legolas. Just wander over for a chat. I was lying with my face to the ground, afraid to stir. The main thing was to get the mob to come as close to me as possible and then we'd see if this archer was much of a warrior. An NPC wouldn't fire a finishing shot at me, the scripts wouldn't allow it, and he wouldn't be able to use his bow up close. I learned all this very well when I was playing my Hunter. If this stranger had all his stat points in Agility, judging by how he managed to critical me, he shouldn't be much of a close combat fighter. And I'll use that against him...
    The footsteps stopped right by my head. That's it, whatever it is — it's here. I was about to jump, when I was checked by the painfully familiar 'aroma' coming from my opponent. It smelled of sweat, dung and some sort of musk. A dark goblin! Any player who had ever made a raid into Kartoss would never forget this pungent smell of the main fighting troops of the Dark Lord. But what was one of them doing in Krong? He'd have to walk almost the entire Empire to get here!
    The goblin standing next to me muttered something in his 'dark' language, sounding annoyed and clearly surprised that no pile of money was lying next to me. He grumbled thus for a little while and turned around to walk away! It's time! I jumped to my feet, selected the surprised-looking red-eyed minion in front of me and summoned a Lightning Spirit. Take that, you green-mugged bastard!
     
    Damage inflicted. 209: 555 (Lightning Spirit Damage) /2.14 (Opponent Level /Character Level) — 50 (Inner resistance to Spirits)
     
    So this green piece of slime is level thirty, too! Never mind, we've beaten bigger goons than you into a pulp — the main thing was not to let him get away far enough to shoot. As if hearing my thoughts the goblin gave a shout and started to make tracks fast. Where do you think you're going? Getting a better grip on my Tambourine, I went after the dark minion — like in the good old times, when I tried to make it into Kartoss by myself. Although