Chapter 21

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I come to my senses from the hard puffing very close by.

"Pfft-pfft-pfft..." Phil puffs out his cheeks, trying to draw the bowstring of the Silver Weapon. Only he can't do it at all, not even halfway to bending the bow.

Judging by the red faces of the other bikers, while I was lying unconscious, they had also tried it, and just as unsuccessfully. Now I should be tearing my hair out and cursing everyone and everything because the thought of repeating the fate of Ulyss terrifies me... It makes me laugh. I look at Phil, and I can hardly contain myself from laughing my ass off because this scene amuses me so much.

Checking with my tongue to see if all my teeth are in place after the fall, I grinned in a slightly husky voice.

"And how long are you going to play out the "grooms of Penelope" scene?"

When Phil hears me and understands exactly what I said, he throws the bow away like the most venomous of snakes, but he realizes in time and catches it near the ground.

"Gaia... You scared me!" Trying to hide his involuntary fright, he throws the weapon at me. "Catch!"

I caught the bow easily. I picked up the quiver and put it behind my back. The gesture was so natural that I didn't even have to think for a second about how to hang the quiver or how to carry this wonderful weapon.

"Did you get the task right while you were passed out?" saying this, Meck walks to the side of me, looking at me like some kind of animal in a zoo.

"What?" I ask, not understanding his question.

"I see..." Meck grinned back. "Then we have two news for you... One is good and the other is not so good..."

"I'll start with the good one," Anton cut in. "No matter how our quest today ends, we'll all come back alive. Whatever the outcome..."

"And the not-so-good comes from the first," Phil, like an experienced actor in a long-established company, continues An's speech. "The reason we're going back is that we've been given not a simple feat, but the Trial of the Face... By your grace, by the way..." The look the Goon cast at me was not one of joy.

"Trial of the Face?" I haven't heard of that.

"It's when one of the Heroes, who still has the thick blood of the gods, can't find an Incarnation for a long time, the Arch chooses a Fusion for him. And chooses it based on the greatest correspondence, not based on complete affinity, as it usually happens. That is, you have a lot in you to qualify for a given Face, but not enough to enter the Fusion without a trial... I must say that this happens very rarely. We have only heard of it, and only in retellings, but we have never observed it ourselves, despite our very great experience in the Pilgrimage."

Here he is talking, and my thought is stuck on his first phrase and revolves around it. Was Odysseus the son of any god? Certainly not. But still, Phil is right, Ulyss has a lot of divinity in his blood. His paternal great-grandfather was the Thunderer himself. Antikleia is not only the granddaughter of Hermes, but also the companion of Artemis, and her mother is not an ordinary woman, but the favorite of Athena. Moreover, even on her father's side, one of her great-grandmothers lay with Apollo. And this is only what Ulyss himself knew, and he did not know everything. But I know now that the rumor that Ulysses' real father was Sisyphus is nothing more than a lie. Antikleia was not cheating on Laertes. I was not sure what I had heard, but in ancient times, when the gods walked quietly among mortals, such a mishmash of Olympian blood, especially among the royal dynasties, was quite common; wherever you spit, you would end up with a descendant of one deity or another.

"What is the danger for us?" I ask the basic question.

"As it was explained to us, while you were lying on the ground like a pile of shit from a divine kick, if the Trial failed, we'd all come back alive." That's what he said before. "It won't have any consequences for us, but for you..." He shuts up for a while. "But for you, failure would shut down the Arch forever." Maybe it is a terrible loss for the guys, but I don't feel any horror about it, on the contrary, some kind of strange relief comes in a warm wave, relaxing my constricted muscles. "Besides, the Trial is more difficult than the usual Deeds that the Arch offers on the new moon."

"Do you already know what we have to accomplish?"

"Yes," this time Meck answers me. "We were stranded on the banks of the Nile a week before Julius Caesar arrived in Egypt. On the road behind you, Cleopatra would pass from her country residence to Alexandria. The God of the Nile was against Cleopatra's alliance with Rome and sent his warriors to kill the queen. In our history, Cleopatra was saved by the second centurion of the seventh legion, sent by order of Julius to protect the queen. We should repeat the deed of those fighters of antiquity and save Cleo..."

"But..." I remembered the history intensely. The meeting of Julius and Cleopatra is about the fiftieth year before the Ascension, which means that this is still the reformation of Mary, that is... "There were a hundred soldiers in the centuria at that time! There were only five of us."

"Four and a half," Meck grinned. "You've got a pretty cut-down Fusion, and there's only one Attribute, so you're not much for the whole thing. But that's why the Pilgrimage is a Deed. Or did you think all this talk of deeds and overcoming was just a figure of speech?"

"Why isn't anything happening?" I pretended not to pay attention to what he was saying, so I changed the subject. Because it's really quiet around here, not even a breeze is blowing, and there's not a soul in sight besides the five of us.

"Usually before a feat, you're given time to recover. In addition, if it's the first time someone crosses the Threshold that time increases," Anton shrugs.

"Sometimes there are exceptions," Hotey interjected. "And just over the threshold, you get thrown into a meat grinder. But that's really rare..."

"As far as I'm concerned, do you already know my Face?" I ask the bikers, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah, I'm not too surprised," Meck sniffled. "I told them right off the bat that you were a sly one."

"Don't exaggerate, he's not surprised-" Phil clearly doesn't believe his words.

"I was surprised, of course, because Fusion with the Face of the Legend is like guessing the right numbers in a lottery," Meck corrected himself. "But still not that much..."

"How did you find out?" I certainly didn't tell them anything.

"You'd think there are many people in history who can walk around in rags, with Apollo's Silver Bow on their backs," explains Meck. "I know only two of them: Odysseus and Philoctetus... But the second one is too honest and doesn't look like you at all, but the slyly twisted king of Ithaca is just your type. What I'm really surprised about is that it took you the Trial! To me, you fit this Face just perfectly."

Maybe some people were flattered by these words, but I was not happy about them. Only someone who hasn't read the myths and legends thinks Ulysses is a great hero. But those who have bothered to read, understand that as a human being, the King of Ithaca was a real bastard. The kind of man who would easily bring down anyone who crossed his path. Yes, I like the wit and cunning of the king of Ithaca. I admire his ability to shoot and find a way out of the most difficult situations. But his character, unscrupulousness, and cynicism in achieving his goal are not something I want to resemble! Apparently. this mismatch is what prevents me from a full Fusion with Face.

"Besides, your unbounded impudence is worthy of Ulysses..." Hotey chuckled like a gunshot in the silence. "Can I have another Face? We almost lost our minds. None of us had ever heard anyone say that before! So don't make a face, Meck's right, you're a real match for Odysseus."

Yes, I went over the edge with this request. I forgot that in games you can change your class or even your character, but this isn't a computer game!

"It's a pity you're not in good physical shape to be one of the strongest Heroes yet." Anton clearly does not share the good mood of the other Goons. "Can you draw a bow?"

That's what I have no doubt about.

"I can." my voice is firm.

I got to my feet and checked myself to see if I was in one piece. Though that was unnecessary, despite the long flight and the not-so-smooth landing with the loss of consciousness, I felt surprisingly good. Even more than that. I had never felt so good in my life.

I grabbed my bow by the hilt took an arrow from the quiver in one cohesive motion and put it on the bowstring. But pulling the Silver Weapon was far from easy. By all accounts, I should have been confident in using my Attribute but it turned out to be much worse. The bow yielded with great difficulty, I am sure that in the real world I would not have been able to draw it by a tenth of a point, but here, beyond the Threshold, the shoulders of the bow did yield to my efforts. I locked the arrow in place, raised the bow about forty degrees to the horizon, and released the bowstring. With a melodious chime, the arrow took flight, slicing the air with its triangular tip with confidence. Odysseus could hold six arrows in the air, but I, by all appearances, was capable of firing no more than three per minute, no more than I could handle until my fusion was complete. Not "yet," but if...

"Wow," Phil exhaled as the arrow hit the ground. "Five hundred meters!"

"Four hundred and fifty-seven," I corrected, not knowing how, but knowing for sure that was the distance the arrow had gone.

And this is definitely not the limit for the Bow from the horn of the Silver Doe of Artemis, it is capable of more. But I'm the only one who can't do more than that. I feel like the Attribute is out of sync with me, and I can't feel it well as if some interference is constantly interfering.

"He pulled it, though, because I had my doubts." Meck doesn't like me, though, and he's always making derogatory comments. But I think it's not so much my behavior or Face, but the fact that he likes Aloya, too, and he's probably noticed the looks I give her.

I was impressed by the distance the arrow surpassed, but I didn't let on. The killing power of the Silver Bow is astonishing; I'm sure an arrow fired from it would penetrate any armor not forged in Hephaestus' furnaces without a problem. And of shields, only the most massive and sturdy siege structures will be able to hold back its deadly flight. I believe a shot from my Attribute would pierce through any Goon standing close by, regardless of the lorica segmentata or the scutum. But if I were to do such a thing, I wouldn't have time to draw my bow before they'd shorten the distance and cut me into even slices.

No, of course, I wasn't seriously considering shooting at my people, but just figuring out how far away I should be from my future adversary if possible. It appeared that no one should be closer than fifty meters to me, or I would risk not being able to get my weapon in the firing position and draw the bowstring in time.

"You know my Face, would you mind sharing yours?" To distract myself from the bad thoughts creeping into my head, I ask my question to the bikers.

"There's nothing interesting about them, we're just ordinary war mules," Anton set the scutum on the ground and adjusted his helmet. "My Face belongs to Mark Antony..." When he saw my eyes widen in surprise, he added immediately: "No, not that one, just his full namesake. He became a hero at Cannes. He not only led his ten men out of the encirclement, but bore the eagle of his legion, and in that battle killed a dozen enemies and one elephant. Afterward, he served for a long time, participated in many battles, and reached Carthage... The hero of the Meck Face, Mit Ekris Kaath, served in the third legion around the time of the Ascension here in Egypt. He became a hero during the storming of the temple complex of Horus when he destroyed the main altar of the fallen deity at the cost of his life. The Face of Fil, Quintus Felocet, an ordinary triarius who had spent half his life in the garrisons of Ethiopia, became a hero at a fairly mature age. He was holding the crossing of a mountain river while civilians were evacuating when the settlement his detachment was guarding was attacked by cannibals..".

"My Face was serving much later..." Hotey, apparently, decided to tell his own story. "Around the beginning of the third century. The Legion of Germanicus, ten years of service from the dense forests of Belgica to the cold shores of the Amber Sea. Received the patronage of Ares during a duel with a descendant of Teuratus..."

"As you can see, our Faces are the kind of Heroes who don't even have a record," Phil's face spreads a wide smile at this. "And we like that. We don't have the hassles that Blaise or Rick or Lance have. The problems associated with our Faces are the problems of ordinary people, our destinies have not been interfered with by deities, and no curses or predestination are hanging over us."

"Except that the characters of our Heroes aren't exactly giants," Hotey grinned in response to these words. "However, we can really deal with that on our own... Blaise, for example, can't, so we're really lucky with our Heroes."

I was about to ask another question when I heard a low chime coming from all directions. And then I felt the light breeze blowing from the river against my skin.

"It has begun..." Anton stretched, crunching his cervical vertebrae as he grabbed his scutum and drew his piledriver from behind his back.

A small procession moved along the narrow sandy road in the direction of the stream, that is, northward. Four dressed warriors were at the front, and behind them floated a closed royal palanquin, carried on their shoulders by twelve sturdy, waist-naked black porters. Even from a distance of about three hundred meters, it was obvious that the palanquin was gorgeous. Apparently, it contains Cleopatra, whom we need to protect.

"Holy Gaya!" He swore at me, looking behind my back. "Hot, remind me to punch you in the face later!"

"What's that got to do with me?" said Hotey, glancing over to where An was looking, and turning a little pale.

"For jinxing us!"

I turned sharply around and noticed what Anton had so disliked. From the dark, muddy waters of the great river to the sandy shore, marching gently and beaming with their crocodile muzzles, came the sabeks. A lot of sabeks, too many for my taste, considering that there were only five of us.

Swearing loudly and cursing the gods, the bikers didn't just stand there, they turned in a line and lowered their shields to the ground. He was in the middle of a fight, but he was in the middle of a fight, so he took a low stance.

"No! This is a total mess! Just like with the Centaurs, zero chance!" Meck said, thrusting all three of his pilums into the ground under his right arm.

"Don't panic!" Anton growled, making the same manipulation with his throwing weapons.

"Yeah... No need to panic, to take down one of them is already an achievement, two of them could get a medal, three of them, that's quite a Deed!" spitting on the ground, Phil expressed his opinion.

"What's wrong with the Arch?" Hotey joins in this muttering. "Why are there so many of them on us? I don't see Hercules or Jason in our group!"

"Shut up!" Anton's voice reveals the anger that came over him.

"Do they run fast?" I ask my question, shifting slightly to the left of the thin Goons formation, at the same time pulling the bowstring.

"Fast..." replies Phil. "They're stronger and faster than humans, but have less stamina and they don't see very well in the air."

I do not share the generally depressed mood of the bikers. Because I don't see any of the two-meter-tall anthropomorphic and scaly giants with crocodile faces carrying a bow or a crossbow, which is a hint of a chance. All of the sabeks are armed in the same way: a medium-length woven shield, a heavy spear in hand, and a bronze battle sickle at their waist, their armor replaced by a thick hide. And, of course, we should not forget the long, wide, full of sharp teeth crocodile's mouth.

"Utis!" Anton called out to me. "If there's any hope, it's for your bow. Go to the flank, keep your distance."

My arrow takes off in its flight, and only then do I nod at his words. It's about five hundred paces to the spot where the warriors of the River God come ashore. The speed of an arrow fired from an ordinary bow is about fifty meters per second; a bolt fired from a powerful, blocky crossbow can reach one hundred and thirty. But even this figure is insignificant compared to what the Silver Bow is capable of, its arrows come off the bowstring at about two hundred and fifty. Of course, the arrow slows down in its flight, so that the arrow I fired only reaches its target at the count of four.

One of the sabeks, the rightmost one in the third row, stumbles and falls to the mossy grass. He would not get up, the arrow, falling from above, had entered between his neck and collarbone, plunging almost to the plumage into his body. The crocodile men did not raise their shields in a defensive stance. Apparently, they did not see the archer in the enemy's ranks at all or deemed it impossible to shoot at such a distance, for which one of them paid the price.

"Great!" commented Hotey on the hit.

"Forward!" assessing the situation, Anton gives the command, simultaneously pulling out pilum from the ground and intercepting them with his left hand. "Standing is useless, the farther we meet them from the palanquin, the more freedom Utis has!"

The guys clearly cheered up, and I didn't mention that I was aiming for the sabek who was closing the line. I missed the target by six meters, hitting someone at least by accident.

The bow behaved perfectly, and that was my mistake. I didn't consider the direction and strength of the wind, and I didn't realize that the flight of an arrow is not a railgun shot and only lasts a certain amount of time after I'd already released the bowstring. These two mistakes, overlapping, allowed the arrow to fall into the center of the enemy formation.

I ran to the side, drew my bow again, and fired a shot. With the speed I was showing, I wouldn't even be able to shoot half of them before they got to the queen, even if all my arrows were accurate and deadly. And Cleopatra's palanquin kept moving north as if the guards in front hadn't noticed the imminent attack.

My second arrow, like a falcon of prey, fell from the sky, but it only slid across the shield of one of the men and went deep into the ground. Yes! I am as far away from the original Odyssey as the moon! I'm too used to virtual shooting and there's no way I can change. There are no optics on the bow, not even aiming bars, it's a weapon, you can hit the target only by engaging all your senses, not just your eyesight. You have to feel the wind with your skin, vibrate the bowstring with your fingertips, and send the arrow flying with your body. That's the only way, and I can't do it! If I had been shooting at a stationary target in an indoor stadium, I would have easily beaten the Olympic standard, the skill I had been given by Attribute would have been enough, but alas, conditions here and now are very different.

In addition, it is one thing to shoot at fifty or a hundred meters and quite another to shoot almost a third of a kilometer. An additional difficulty is that the wind is unequal in strength and not absolutely precise in direction throughout the flight of the arrow. Here it is not enough to feel where and how it blows near you, here you have to have an incredible instinct, anticipating the gusts and changes of air currents at the whole distance of the shot. No doubt Odysseus had that sense, but it was not fully transferred to me because of the incompleteness of the Fusion. That's why the third arrow only scratched the shoulder of the last sabek, and didn't hurt anyone in particular.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Apparently, realizing they were under fire, obeying the thunderous roar of their leader, a huge, almost a head taller than the others, the river god fighters covered themselves with their shields and began to run.

Because of the roar, which reverberated for hundreds of yards, the queen's procession finally caught sight of the attack. The guards shouted something, pointing their fingers in the direction of the attackers, and the porters froze, watching in horror. I glanced at the procession for a moment and then ran back to the side so that I could fire at least a little to the side of the attackers.

As I ran, I kept my eyes on the attackers. Eh! If the task had been simply to destroy the squad sent by the river god, it would have been a lot easier. Because, fully armed, the sabeks were slower than I was. Yes, the Goons in their armor could not escape them, but I, in my rags and with only my bow in my hands, could keep my distance from the sabeks and, in the end, shoot them all, since thanks to Apollo's quiver I was not limited in my ammunition supply. It would be long, of course, but the result of such a confrontation was not doubted for a moment. Except that our task was different, and how to accomplish it, how to protect Cleopatra, I don't know!!!

The only way to stop the speeding Sabeks was to make a dense formation of shields or a large number of spears, but we had neither. Besides, they weren't going to fight us fairly; they had a different goal. So, obeying a new guttural shout, the attackers split in half, the fifteen crocodile-like creatures with their shields folded and turned toward the four bikers. The rest, moving in a wide arc, clearly targeted the queen's palanquin. This maneuver ruined my original plan to fight. I was going to take out as many of the sabeks as I could, shooting their lines from the side or the back while they fought the bikers. But now, if I did that, I might do some damage but in the meantime, the second squad of them would get to the queen, and our mission would be failed.

I realized this simple truth, fired a fourth shot, which hit no one, and ran as fast as I could toward the palanquin. In addition, I had the idea of organizing Cleopatra's defenses with her four guards and porters. The black musclemen were unarmed, but they were of impressive build, and clearly not lacking in strength. They were every bit as strong as sabek, and perhaps they would give me time to get some more shots out of the attack, at least for the time being. But my plan was not to be fulfilled; when they saw the sabeks split up and a dozen and a half running straight toward the procession, the porters threw the palanquin on the road and scattered away with loud shouts.

The rules of the team play required me to cover the bikers with my shooting, but if I had done so, it would have been a stone's throw away from accomplishing the main task. So after mentally apologizing to the guys, I shifted my sights to the group running toward the palanquin.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I wasn't holding a railgun, but an entirely different weapon. With all my thoughts and feelings, I reached out to the Attribute, begging it to accept me and teach me. I thought I could feel a fleeting response...

When I exhaled and opened my eyes, the world around me had changed. Just a little... More precisely, the world had remained the same, but my perception of it had changed. All around became a little clearer, the colors became more profound, I even thought I could see the wind blowing...

I pulled the bow, took aim, and was about to shoot when I felt the Attribute pulling my palm up a little. I took the bow a little higher, and only then lowered the bowstring. Three seconds later the sabek on the far left caught this arrow of mine with his chest, his legs immediately buckled, and he fell as a lifeless carcass to the dry ground. I hoped this would slow the attackers down a bit, but they roared louder and sped up, raising their shields over their heads.

At this moment, the bikers were confronted by the detachment that had been put up against them.

When the river god's warriors were about twenty paces away, the Goons threw their first pilums. Of course, the sabeks didn't wait for them to be tipped like butterflies on the long tips, but raised their shields and took the blow on them. But the first was immediately followed by a second throw, and one of the crocodile-minded fighters did not have time to raise his shield fast enough. Anton's throw was perfectly timed, and his pilum, piercing through the hard skin of the enemy, sank into the green neck. The last of the bikers' heavy darts flew into the gap created by the body, one of them very successfully, barely gliding over the edge of the enemy's shield, found its prey, piercing the skin on the crocodile's belly.

According to the established disposition, the Nile divinity fighters planned to envelop the four Goons and then surround them. Except the bikers were experienced warriors and, without waiting for the execution of the enemy's plan, went for a breakthrough. Apparently, Anton had in mind to reduce the fight to a set of disjointed fights, to arrange a mess and a heap, in which to realize the fighting skills of his foursome as much as possible.

Hotey, having barely had time to throw his pilum, immediately rushes forward. His foot strikes the pilum sticking out of the enemy's shield, thereby bending the shield to the ground, and his sword in a swift lunge strikes the neck of his close sabek who was momentarily unprotected. From a double strike of heavy spears on the right and left Hot is saved by Phil and Meck, covering with their scutum. And then the rest begins a complete mess! Throwing his shield into the face of the enemy on the left, Hotey, instead of freeing his sword, on the contrary, jumps with his whole body on the already dying sabek, wraps his arms around him, and falls with him to the ground. In doing so, he covers himself with the body of a dying man from enemy spears. Right at his feet, he is knocking those closest to him off their feet or force them to lose their balance. Meck and Phil immediately rush into this fight, trying to land as many blows as possible, not necessarily fatal.

Anton, on the contrary, bounces back and, taking advantage of the situation, throws his gladius at one of the unbalanced bikers, striking him with this throw exactly under the jaw. Then the biker throws up his scutum, reflecting a double strike of spears, then intercepts his shield with both hands and, having covered himself with it, throws himself under the knees of the nearest man. The rest of it turned into a kind of scramble, not a fight, and I couldn't make out anything...

I waved my arms as I ran up to the queen's guards, and yelled for them not to stand still, but to try to intercept the attack group as far away from the palanquin as possible. But when I saw the soldiers of Cleopatra's escort, I realized that they were no ordinary fighters. No, outwardly everything was very decent: chic armor with gilt, helmets, bringing back memories of the era of conquests of the great Alexander, from the silver sheath that opened to the eye when their snow-white cloaks flutter in the wind, look sprinkled with precious stones handles swords. Except that I can see the genuine fear that turns to panicked terror on their faces.

They're not warriors, they're just status escorts who can strut and puff out their cheeks impressively. I think they've been trained to fight, but I doubt any of the four have ever been in actual combat. I suppose such thoughts must look ridiculous in my head. Since I, if I have ever fought, it was only in games, sitting in a soft and safe armchair. But apparently, in this case, I was looking at the accompanying queen through the prism of a partial, but still Fusion with the Hero, who in his life participated in dozens of battles and hundreds of fights. I already thought that this escort would scatter, like the porters, but they managed to surprise me. The older of the four drew his sword from its sheath and shouted something in ancient Egyptian, the only phrase I could make out was "Cleopatra," and the little squad, bracing themselves with a mad scream, ran at the sabeks, waving their weapons wildly over their heads.

As the escort fled into its suicide attack, I managed to fire three shots. The first missed, the second hit one of my enemies in the shoulder, wounding but not disabling him, and only the third was successful. The arrow, falling almost plumb, slid between the edge of the shield and the long snout of the witch, striking him squarely in the heart at an acute angle.

My expectation that the escort soldiers would delay the sabeks by forcing a fight on them failed. The queen's four guards were wiped out in ten seconds, lifted on spears by their attackers. Not one of the crocodile men was even wounded in this fleeting fight. Nevertheless, the sacrifice of the guards was not in vain.

The first of the sabeks plunged his spear into the belly of one of the guards, put it like a bug on a pin, and lifted it high off the ground. Then he roared, raising his muzzle, causing the blood dripping down the spear's shaft to run into his mouth, driving the half-crocodile half-man into a frenzy. It threw the already dead body to the ground and began ripping at it with its terrible teeth, clawing its armor. The human blood sprayed, splattering all over the other warriors of the River God, causing a kind of rabies outbreak. They forgot their purpose for a while, and began tearing apart the bodies of the guards, snapping at each other. Of course, I took my chance, and two of the arrows found their victims, hitting their defenseless backs.

By this point, I knew for sure that if things went the way they were now, we would not win. We needed to make some other move that would, if not turn the situation upside down, at least give us a minimum chance of winning.

I ran up to the palanquin left by the porters and tore off the beautiful curtains and threw them on the ground. In the palanquin, on beautifully carved benches, facing each other, sat the queen and an unpleasant-looking, wrinkled, and very frightened old man in dark red robes.

To be honest, I expected something more from the appearance of the Great Cleopatra! Some unearthly and unprecedented beauty, but the reality turned out to be more prosaic. No, she was beautiful, with regular features, high cheekbones, eyebrows like flying seagulls, amazingly attractive line of lips. And the figure, slightly hidden by the light, almost weightless white silk, was seductive. And yet in many feature films played actresses much more beautiful. What really made the legendary queen stand out were her truly enormous eyes. Blue as the cloudless sky itself, they looked like you could easily dive into them and remain their prisoner forever. I froze for a moment, plunging into their depths, like a hapless hero who hadn't taken his eyes off the Gorgon. I was roused from this hypnotic stupor by the roar of the sabek, who was trying to bring his men to their senses and make them stop tearing people's bodies apart.

Cleopatra was outwardly very calm. She didn't care that the porters had escaped and her guard was being murdered by sébeks. No! But there was an absolute certainty in her gaze that no one would dare kill her. Capture her, yes, perhaps, but not take her life. That was why she sat still, not shouting or wringing her hands. Because, apparently, she had already decided for herself that she would be captured, and the fear she showed could have a negative effect on her image.

"The queen, you've got to run!" I spoke in a voice that was hoarse from my dry throat, while I placed an arrow on the stock of my bow.

"No one dares to harm me!" Despite her obvious fright, Cleopatra's voice is firm and unyielding. And when she sees a ragamuffin who dares to order her around, I can sense her contempt and disgust.

"How dare you, you lowly man, address the great Cleopatra like that!" the old man in red screamed in a high voice. "Kneel before the Queen of the Upper and Lower Realms!"

I could have explained everything to them, and told them what was going on in detail. Maybe I could have even succeeded, and I could have persuaded them. But I didn't have time for that kind of talk. So I didn't bicker or argue, but drew my bow, took a step back, and fired an arrow straight into the old man's forehead. With a sharp and very unpleasant sound, the arrow shot almost at point-blank range from Apollo's Silver Bow, cracked the old man's skull, spattering the remains of the grumpy priest's brains all over the palanquin, including the queen's snow-white robe.

"I... Said... Run!!!" I growled as much as I had a voice, defiantly pulling a new arrow from my quiver.

Cleopatra may have been arrogant, narcissistic, selfish, and bitchy, but she was certainly no fool. When she looked into my eyes and saw no sympathy or regret in them, she wiped her face of the brown and slimy debris with a sharp gesture, then smiled at something and spat on the old man's corpse with a feeling of genuine contempt. Then she picked up her clothes and jumped out of the palanquin like a white-footed bird. She glanced to the north, spotted the men, correctly assessed the situation, turned to the south, and rushed down the path.

I exhaled with relief, and jumped up onto the roof of the palanquin, giving myself a better line of fire. At that moment, the leader of the crocodile muzzles had already brought his men to their senses, and they had picked up their shields and ran toward me again. This leader was not only the biggest and strongest but also the smartest. So my next arrow was meant for him. Only, unlike his brethren, this giant was not just running toward me, grinning his terrible maw and growling something inaudible, but still looking ahead, so he managed to react by sharply stepping behind the back of the nearest sabek and pushing him forward a little. The unlucky man was running with his shield, but at that distance, about one hundred and fifty meters, the woven shield covered in thick leather was a weak defense against my Attribute's arrows. The arrow pierced easily through the obstacle and plunged into the hapless sabeks chest killing him instantly.

In saving himself in this way, the ringleader did me a kind of favor. A couple more sabeks stumbled over the falling corpse and were immediately pushed into their backs by those coming from behind... As a result of this collision, all sabeks rolled on the ground. My next arrow struck the one on top of the pile of bodies, further adding to the chaos. But all good things tend to end very quickly. And so now, as I released the bowstring once more, driving the arrow right into the mouth of another sabek, the crocodile men rose to their feet and darted forward again. Yes, many of them had lost their shields and spears in the fall, but that didn't make them any less dangerous to me. Those of them who had shed their heavy weapons and large shields ran much faster.

There are no more than a hundred paces between me and the first of the sabeks. For an Attribute, that's a straight line distance, impossible to miss. And the arrow goes into its flight, to end in less than a second deep in the ugly skull of the warrior of the Nile deity.

If I remained on the roof of the palanquin, I would have time to fire two shots accurately, and perhaps one more if the sabeks didn't think to jam their spears into me at once, but decided to tear me apart with their truly terrifying teeth. Perhaps in other circumstances, such an exchange of my life would be justified but there were still seven crocodile men running at me, which meant that if I died, the queen would no longer be protected.

I have no hope for help from the bikers; it is already a miracle that the fight halfway between the road and the river is still going on, which means that some of the guys are alive and fighting, giving time for the queen to escape. But all the efforts of the Goons will go to waste if I screw up!

Another shot and a new carcass with a dirty green hide fell on the dusty path, its mouth open in a death rattle, breaking its teeth against the tamped earth. Before the bowstring could ring out its funeral song, I jumped off the palanquin and ran as fast as I could eastward, perpendicular to Cleopatra's escape.

My action did not go unheeded by the ringleader. He roared an order and sent two of his warriors in pursuit of the queen, while he, led by three more of his men, rushed after me.

If it had been Odysseus, he would have shot those crocodiles without too much trouble, because he could shoot on the run. Alas, I couldn't do that right now; I couldn't even draw my bow without stopping. The only thing I could do without slowing down was to bend the arcs of the bow halfway, but then I had to stop to pull the bowstring up, take aim, and send an arrow flying in a deadly flight. Yes, there was one less pursuer, but the distance to them, because I had to stand still while I shot, had been reduced by another twenty paces.

I wasted no time, running as fast as I could to stop and take another shot, half-loading the Attribute again. I was lucky, the arrow that caught my chest arrow from only fifty paces of the nearest saber was knocked aside like a blow from a massive sledgehammer and he collapsed right in the path of the next pursuer, giving me a couple of precious seconds.

Those seconds made all the difference! Now I was in time, with the difference in speeds between me and my pursuers, I had time for two more shots!

I turned and cocked the Attribute again, and sent an arrow at close range. Of course, I didn't miss the two-meter monster from thirty paces with the Silver Bow, even though I shot it at point-blank range.

The lonely leader roared in despair, and, leaping over the dying man in one leap, sprinted toward me in great leaps. I didn't stay still, either, and, changing direction a little, I ran as fast as I could. I was overwhelmed with the feeling of near victory!

Except, as the saying goes, "If it's going well, you might have overlooked something". That's what happened now... I had completely forgotten that my opponents were not helpless bodies for arrows. Reality reminded me of itself in a most painful way. No sooner had I run ten paces after the shot, than my thigh exploded with sharp pain, and I rolled on the stunted grass, screaming and staring in horror at the sharp, metal tip sticking out of my leg. The leader didn't wait for his fate but threw his spear at me. Since there were no more than twenty paces between us, and he was an experienced warrior, his throw reached its destination. I was saved briefly by the fact that he must have been mad and wanted not just to kill me, but to tear me to pieces with his jaws. So instead of aiming his lunge at my back, he opted for a different solution.

I had never been in so much pain and fear in my entire life. But still, by some miracle, I didn't let go of the Attribute. It did give me strength, a wave of some kind of all-encompassing rage that ran from the divine bow through my hands and my body.

"Haaaaa!!!"

My pain, my fear, and the all-consuming martial fury of the Attribute's gift came together in that scream. I couldn't get to my feet, so I got down on one knee and, ignoring the point protruding from my leg, I threw the arrow onto the bow, and in one cohesive, swift, yet fluid motion, I pulled the bowstring. A second ago it would have taken me many times longer to fully draw my bow, but now it took me only three seconds. But the leader wasn't waiting for an arrow in his chest, either...

I was still raising the Attribute in the firing position when it ripped the battle sickle from my belt and, roaring with a pained roar, flung it at me. Spinning frantically, glinting with honed bronze in the midday sun, the sickle merged into a deadly disc for me. The arrow from the Silver Bow and the weapon bestowed by the god of the Nile upon his adept collided halfway. It seemed to me that the sound with which the arrow changed its direction and went skyward from that collision was full of some unearthly, all-consuming sadness and frustration. The sickle, as a heavier weapon, only deflected slightly, continuing its flight directly into my face. I had no choice but to use the Attribute as a defense. With a sharp lunge, I managed to hit the sickle with the shoulders of my bow, and it passed me by, just barely scratching my temple, but my Attribute was knocked out of my hands and fell to the grass.

"Kha-a-ar-r-r-r-r!!!" Raising his clenched fists to the sky, Sebek shrieked.

He knew he'd won. Yes, we were both unarmed now, but I was wounded, and he was clearly almost an order of magnitude stronger. And let's not forget his huge mouth, full of sharp teeth, each the size of my pinky finger.

An inhuman smile flashed across his monstrous face, and big crocodile tears of anticipation rolled down his ugly face. There were five meters between us, and he took two giant leaps, aiming straight for my throat with his open mouth.

It was the end.

Even though I knew that I would not really die now. If I died here, I would come to my senses in the Temple. Nevertheless, I was scared out of my mind. I didn't even have time to scream, just instinctively shielded my hands from the immensely terrifying maw that was about to tear me apart.

Half a second more, and the sharp teeth would sink into my flesh, tearing my skin, ripping out my muscles, and showering the ground with my blood. Just half a second...

And then the world blinked. Not me, but reality blinked. This "blinking" took an infinitesimal quantum of time, bringing a single Change to the world...

Sebek's teeth, ready to close on my throat a moment ago, now grind helplessly as they break against the pale blue steel. In my outstretched arms, so defenseless and weak until recently, the second Attribute is now clutched in an even circle of the unbreakable wall!

The hereditary shield of the kings of Ithaca, a gift of the great-grandfather to the founder of the dynasty, passed down in the family from father to son. Forged by the order of Zeus by Hephaestus, it bears the blessing of the Thunderer himself. And even the weapons of Kronos' hundred-armed guards are unable to penetrate this shield. Never mind some crocodile's fangs!

I always thought that the shield was only a defensive weapon, but after gaining the Attribute, and with it the skill and understanding of how to wield it, I fundamentally changed my mind.

"You're!.."

Pulling the crocodile's mouth aside, I shout.

"Totally!.."

The impact of the edge of the shield is terrible, it literally cuts the jaws of a sebek in half.

"Screwed!.."

Unlike my opponent, I do not revel in victory but want to finish the job as quickly as possible. That's why my next punch is simple and unsophisticated.

A sharp, short poke with an edge breaks the neck vertebrae of the servant of the River God.

"Darn bastard," I whispered, spitting blood from my bitten lip on the ground. I'm not sure I remember when I bit it. "You almost made it..."

With a hiss of pain, I threw my shield behind my back and pulled the tip of the spear from my thigh. It hurts, it really hurts, but I can walk now. The blood runs down my leg like a full-flowing stream. A minute, maybe two, and I'll collapse from the blood loss, but that's enough time for me to finish the job.

After I reach the Silver Bow three meters away, I pick it up off the ground. I ran my palm over it, clearing away the grass and mentally apologizing for letting it out of my hands, and then I took out the arrow and placed it on the stock.

The queen was chased by two selves, but only one could really catch up with her. The second was barely able to catch up, limping badly. He was the one who got one of my arrows, hitting him in the thigh, almost at the beginning of the fight. In addition, one of the surviving bikers was running toward the laggard, waving a blade over his head, shrieking madly. I couldn't tell who it was, for he was covered in blood from head to foot, and the hilt of a battle sickle was sticking out of his left shoulder. The chainmail, however, gleamed characteristically in the sun, which meant that Hotey had survived. I certainly hadn't expected that, he was the first to break into the ranks of the crocodile men, and should have been the first to die! But it turned out the other way around, he's the only one who survived the Goons. The boys did well, they coped with what they thought was impossible, with the four of them piled on top of fifteen of them at once! But, they got through it, they overcame it.

As Phil said just a few minutes and at the same time countless piles of time ago:

To take down one of them is already an achievement, to get two of them - you can demand a medal, and three of them - that's exactly a Deed!

So they've accomplished their Deed. And I can no longer afford to miss it.

There are only ten paces between the queen and her pursuer, and I can see that Cleopatra is already exhausted, she can barely move her legs. The target is an insane four hundred meters away, but I don't have a shadow of a doubt. Holding my breath, I release the bowstring...

The arrow, sent flying, sings a victory song, it too knows it will hit.

If the sabek who was chasing the queen had seen the moment of the shot, it would have been enough for him to step aside for me to miss. But he was so absorbed in his pursuit that he apparently did not understand what he died of...

The last of the Nile god's squad waddled toward Cleopatra, even though he knew he would never catch up with her, he kept walking toward his goal without noticing anything else around him.

Three times I raised the bow, and three times I lowered it without releasing the bowstring. No, it wasn't a gesture of mercy; I just didn't want to take a legitimate frag from Hotey. He'd been running at it wounded and bleeding for so long, it would have been blatantly disrespectful of me to kill this enemy. Besides, the crocodile man had probably lost a lot of blood, like me, and could not offer any resistance; he could hardly move his legs.

Finally catching up with his victim, Hotey thrust his sword into his back and immediately collapsed on the ground. The last thing I saw on this side of the Arch was the biker's happy smile.

The world spun, merging into a single point, and an impenetrable darkness fell over my eyes...

I woke up sitting against the cold marble wall in the Heart of the Temple. The bikers were waking up next to me. Anton, Phil, and Meck were grimacing and sighing in relief. Only Hot sat there with a wandering smile on his face. After quickly groping myself and finding no wounds, I didn't hold back:

"Men... I'm going to tell you the truth! - The eyes of the Goons converged on me. - You're all so fucked up!!! That I would cross the Threshold one more time?! I'll never be brought back here even under the threat of being quartered."

The only answer I got was the cheerful, upbeat laughter of the crazy foursome...

* * *