ã€ŠGoes Unpunishedã€‹


 Chapter 01

    People liked to say the government fucked us. That all they had to do was create peace, to find a way to diplomatically and fairly divide the resources of our dying planet.

    But the truth, as far as I¡¯m concerned, is that humans fucked themselves. Fucked themselves as well as an adolescent boy discovering the joys of masturbation. Sure, maybe we didn¡¯t need to start lobbing intercontinental ballistic missiles. But we just accelerated the process.

    Earth had had enough of our shit.

    The streets were deserted.

    I walked them, padding across concrete sidewalks that were gradually being reclaimed by an Earth that could finally breathe. Grass sprouted between the bricks, vines crawled along the off-white walls of buildings and small animals rustled in the parks that had exploded free beyond their tiny, ornate fences.

    Buenos Aires, one tipped-over dumpster read.Ciudad Verde.I didn¡¯t even need to try anymore to translate the Spanish.Green City.

    I snorted softly, like I did every time. ¡°I guess it¡¯s green now,¡± I muttered aloud, my voice low and ¡ª if I do say so myself ¡ª ruggedly masculine. I did that now. Talked to myself. Almost constantly. The last time I¡¯d had a conversation was almost a year ago. Almost exactly a year since I¡¯d seen another human face.

    360 days,I thought, and then scowled. I wasn¡¯t going to think about that. Icouldn¡¯tthink about that. Not with the guilt that ripped through my gut every time I gave in to the temptation. I couldn¡¯t afford to be distracted.

    Green city or no, this place was deadly.

    I gripped the metal shaft of my spear tighter in my hand as I reminded myself of the fact. It wasn¡¯t much, just a six-foot length of steel piping. But the K-bar knives riveted to each end were heavy-duty and heavy-deadly.

    I walked with a slow, careful gate, keeping my eyes and ears wide open. I was hunting.Grinding,I reminded myself, yet again.Gotta stay in the mindset.

    Parked cars lined the roads ¡ª shattered windows, chipped paint and tires deflated after years of disuse. Most had been stripped: hoods torn open, engines removed, any usable electronics scavenged, back before things had gottenreallybad.

    Now, there wasn¡¯t anyone to scavenge them but me.

    Me, and the enemy. And the enemy didn¡¯t care about having a radio to blast the latest hip-hop tunes deep into the night to distract from the gentle rumble of chaos all around. Theywerethe chaos. In fact, I had a sneaking suspicion that they went after the hip-hop blasters first.

    I couldn¡¯t say I was happy about it. But god was I glad to get a bit of sleep without having to listen to the damned crooning of this year¡¯s chart-topping boyband.

    Scratch that.

    I bet they went after the boybands first.

    Mass media entertainment had been one of the first things to go. Turns out that in the middle of the apocalypse things like that aren¡¯t as important as everyone used to believe. Art, though, was still here. If you knew where to look. You can¡¯t kill off art as easily as you can a tousle-haired British teenager.

    I paused, as usual, in front of my mural. I couldn¡¯t say it was my favorite. But it was definitely the most important. It had been his favorite, at least.

    The mural was nothing particularly special. Just an advertisement really: a spray-painted piece of street art depicting a heavily-muscled videogame character in fantasy-style plate armor. He knelt behind a massive shield that was peppered with black-shafted arrows, one hand clutching a huge longsword out to one side. Behind him, hands raised to the sky, a woman with delicate features, wind-whipped black hair and long, pointed ears summoned fire and lightning around her fingers.

    It jumped out at you, even faded with time. And across the top, in sweeping block letters, the words I¡¯d read a thousand times.

    AvatR: La Nueva Frontera.

    I breathed out slowly.AvatR: The New Frontier.Then, I shook my head and focused, rolling my shoulders and pushing the game from my mind.

    Maybe soon,I thought.But I¡¯m not that desperate¡­ Yet.

    I found them in the plaza before the Casa Rosada ¡ª the ¡°Pink House¡± where the Argentine president had once gone about his daily business. Trying to save his people, if we were being generous with our speculations. Or, more likely, trying to save himself. I gave the building a dirty look as I bent my knees and my fingers flexed on the spear. I didn¡¯t trust politicians. Or anyone, for that matter. Cynicism like that tends to develop when chaos hits. First, you learn that everyone is out for themselves, just trying to find their next meal. Then, after the change, you learn that youarethe next meal.

    I wasn¡¯t a native of the country, so I had no reason in particular to be upset with the ex-president, but what did that matter? All the natives were gone. Or had gone feral.

    After my symbolic gesture of disgust, I kept my dark eyes fixated on the figures in the center of the space.Stealth Activated,I thought. I kept low, shuffling quietly through the overgrown bushes that would have climbed to the height of my chest if I stood, making sure my spear never got tangled in the branches.

    I crouched, halfway behind a gnarled tree. The bark was rough against my shoulder through the flimsy fabric of my old, well-worn tee. Sometimes, I wondered why I even bothered wearing a shirt in the summer. It wasn¡¯t like I had any modesty to hide, or anyone to hide it from.

    But I always came back to the same conclusion. Clothes marked me, for better or worse, as human.

    Take these bastards, for instance.

    The once-scenic plaza before the presidential palace was nearly deserted. Stone benches were scattered around the perimeter and several heavy stone plinths were topped with statues of important historic figures and a bare flagpole that had once supported the country¡¯s flag.

    Nearly, but notquitedeserted.

    There were four of them, kneeling and squatting around the carcass of what looked to be a large, mangy dog. One of them still had the remnants of clothing, but the others were naked, mottled skin the color of vomit and just as disgusting. Their spines were bumpy with protruding spikes, their hands abnormally long with bone-tipped claws and their jaws wide and toothy as they ripped at the animal with finger and fang.

    Once, I probably would have had pity on the poor mutt. Now, I was grateful for the distraction. Instinctively, I summed them up in my head.50 xp times 4. 200.

    More of them than I usually tackled at once. And maybe I should have stayed away. Usually I was like a lone wolf, preying on those animals that got separated from the herd. Only, unlike a wolf, I was preying on other predators.

    But today was different. Special, you might say. I was so close.

    I can do this,I told myself, ignoring the part of me that wanted to point out I¡¯d never gone up against more than two at one time.I have to do this. I¡¯m so close. I¡¯ve been working for so long.I ignored the other part of me that asked if I had a death wish. Mostly because I didn¡¯t know the answer.

    As far as I was concerned, it was all part of the game. The game I played to prepare. The game I played to stay alive. The game I played because of my past. The game I played to give me a future.

    One of the creatures raised its head, dark blood dripping down its sinewy throat and onto its chest. It half-turned, lifting its skeletal face skyward. I¡¯d hunted these things long enough to know what that meant. It was scenting something.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    I froze instinctively, knowing as I did that holding still would do absolutely nothing to hinder my natural body odor. But I was downwind, the air currents carrying the delightful scent of unbathed flesh and freshly-slaughtered meat to my nose, and the creature lowered its head once again.

    I was running out of time. And I didn¡¯t want to be out here longer than necessary.Come on, Colin,I ordered.Just farm your daily experience and get back home. You have shit to do.

    I didn¡¯t think about the other part. That if all went according to plan, this would be the last hunt. And then, I would have to make the choice I¡¯d been putting off for almost a year. I couldn¡¯t think that far ahead.

    I glanced around one final time, flicking my head rapidly to check if anything was creeping up behind me. Most mutants were stupid, but they could be tricky. I felt a soft breeze touch my face, brushing back the long strands of hair that had escaped my bun.

    There was nothing behind me.

    I realized what the breeze meant a second too late.Crap.

    I heard a low, angry growl. I was no longer downwind.

    When I looked back, four mutants were racing toward me, screeching and slobbering with dog-meat dangling from their teeth. I had time for one, split-second, tactical thought.

    Tricked,I realized.By myself.

    But then I stood, spear clenched in white-knuckled hands, and screamed as I charged.

    * * *

    The mutants were bunched together in a pack, launching themselves forward with an overabundance of ferocity and an underabundance of strategy.

    I honestly wasn¡¯t much better.

    My hands slipped down the pole as I swung it baseball-style, extending my reach in a five-foot arc of gleaming blade before clamping down my grip. Carbon steel K-bar met leathery skin and desiccated throat. The lead mutant went down face first, gurgling and clawing wildly as black blood spewed from its ruined neck.

    I roared, channeling my fear into electric adrenaline that coursed through my veins like Red Bull on steroids. I finished the swing as the other three creatures split apart and tried to surround me, jabbing forward and once again allowing the pipe to slide through my hands.

    My target tried to dodge, jinking to one side, but it wasn¡¯t fast enough, the knife punching through its shoulder and out the back in a spray of blood and bone bits. I clamped down on my instinctive urge to retch ¡ª still working on that, even after all this time ¡ª and charged forward, lifting the pole off the ground. The bleeding mutant flailed and snarled, spewing spittle and blood.

    The key was distance. I had to stay out of range of those goddam claws if I wanted to keep wearing shirts and calling myself human.

    Despite their size, mutants are light, and I vaulted off a stone bench as the other two creatures came in on both sides, their friend swaying on the end of my spear like the scariest pi?ata you¡¯ve ever seen: 6-year-old Mexican birthday party meets Halloween horror flick in a post-apocalyptic crossover episode.

    I landed and spun, whipping the pole around with a grunt and flinging my bizarre party favor back in the faces of its comrades. With typical mutant durability, it flipped several times across the smooth cobblestones, slammed into the bench and then scrambled for its feet with one arm hanging limp.

    It snarled and shook its head, then turned my way with vindictive eyes.

    My feet were under me, my foes were before me, and all I heard was Kyle¡¯s voice:Style points, dude!

    Like I said, my weapon of choice was just six feet of metal piping attached to two razor-sharp knives. But boy howdy could that thing kill.

    I was like Darth fucking Maul, spinning the double-ended spear easily in my hands with the ease of long practice. The first creature probably didn¡¯t know what hit it as I battered forward, lashing out with my weapon like it was a bladed quarterstaff and opening a jagged wound across its face. I shattered its jaw, teeth clattering across the stone, and it fell back with a screaming, groaning,what-the-fuck-was-that?kind of sound.

    The other tried to bull rush me, blood-speckled arms extended wide for the world¡¯s most disgusting bear hug, but evidently forgot that my lightsaber ¡ª I mean, spear ¡ª was a business on top, business on the bottom kind of deal. With a twist of my wrists and a grunt, I flipped up the bottom blade and let the mutant impale itself through the chest.

    Good news: the military-grade knife bunched through the thing¡¯s chest, through some vital bits, and stuck in its spine, leaving it thoroughly dead.

    Bad news: I now had a thoroughly dead mutant stuck to one end of my main weapon.

    I shook the pole as the remaining two creatures snarled and regrouped a dozen feet away, one crawling on three limbs and the other spitting blood and swiping at its sliced-open face with hands built for dismemberment. The corpse didn¡¯t budge, just flopped limply, the K-bar evidently well-wedged in its vertebrae.

    Black, sludgy ichor now mingled with the crimson mutt-blood that covered the creatures¡¯ faces, lipless mouths and skeletal chests. Dark, slitted, pupil-less eyes watched me from beneath the folds of skin that made up their brow ridges. Watched me with an intelligence that was somewhere between mine and that of the street dog they¡¯d been chowing down on before I was obliging enough to show up as course number two.

    Okay, maybe my intelligence wasn¡¯t that far above theirs after all. If it was, I would have a plan by now. But Course No. 2 had less than seconds to act, and he couldn¡¯t spend it questioning his decisions. I could berate myself in the future, if I was lucky enough to get one.

    I swallowed, gritted my teeth, and dropped the steel pole with aclang.

    In the survival business we have a name for this kind of situation: Not Good.

    The impaled mutant toppled as my hand fell to my side and I ripped free the heavy-bladed machete from its sheath. I hadn¡¯t even thought about the weapon when I belted it on this morning. Lucky me, I was a creature of habit. Unlucky me, I hadn¡¯t practiced with the short, chopping weapon in months.

    My jaw tensed as I floated on the balls of my feet and my nostrils flared with heavy, adrenaline-fueled breaths. I waited a second longer and then, between one moment and the next, sensed it was time.

    ¡°Aaaah!¡±I screamed, and flung myself forward.

    The things that used to be human froze for a split second, stunned by my ferocity ¡ª or my stupidity ¡ª or my extremely loud war cry. Then, their hind legs flexed and they were bounding toward me with terrifying speed.

    My arm pumped wildly, the blade a blur as I chopped and slashed and hacked the air, hoping against hope that I would connect with something important.

    Define important.

    The first creature bounded into reach, blood trailing from its broken jaw. Maybe the blood flying across its face obscured its vision enough to miss the short blade in my fist. More likely it didn¡¯t particularly care. Either way, my machete lopped off several reaching fingers with one swipe and then its lean arm at the elbow on the next swing. Blood sprayed over me as the thing howled and slammed into me chest first, my free hand shooting out to grasp its remaining wrist and my other fist punching up under its chin to keep it from biting my face off.

    We fell in a tangle of foul blood, rage and flailing limbs, and I smashed down hard on my back, feeling the wind blow out of my lungs like I¡¯d gotten stomped by a rhino. But some part of my training kicked in and my feet kicked out, up, shoving the thing through the air and using its momentum to propel it beyond my prone body.

    My eyes were wide, my vision strangely clear, the second mutant following up the first so fast that my only chance was to roll sideways as swiping claws scythed past my face. I kicked blindly, connected with something, felt it crunch under my boot and heard a scream of pain.

    Or maybe that was me screaming.

    Thud.

    I¡¯d rolled into a huge stone plinth, face first, my vision flashing and my head snapping back. I realized I hadn¡¯t been the one screaming before, because now I did. But I had no time for pain, no time for anything but shoving myself up with one hand and realizing I somehow still had a grip on my machete.

    I whipped around, my blade leading the way, and connected with the wounded creature as it came at me, dragging one arm and one leg behind. If I hadn¡¯t been lucky enough to blow out its knee, it would have been on me and over.

    As it was, it was moving at the perfect speed to meet my short, choppy sword.

    It was leading with its face, teeth bared to rip out my throat, so the face was what I caught with my wild slice, deflecting the creature off its trajectory as the machete caved in its skull. I felt a tug in my gut like a punch and I stumbled sideways, the machete¡¯s grip tearing free of my hand as the creature plowed into the plinth hard enough to crack its neck with a gruesomesnap.

    But it was already dead.

    I did vomit, then, uncontrollably, pain coursing through me and my hands clutching desperately at my heaving stomach. The fact that there was one more of them was mildly troublesome, but I realized that I didn¡¯t stand a chance now.

    When I wasn¡¯t dead in a matter of seconds, I glanced around. The final mutant was flopping on the pavement, hissing and spitting, a black pool of blood spreading out beneath its face and another beneath the stub of an arm it kept stupidly trying to use to push itself up.

    I moved numbly, hardly thinking, stumbling to my spear. It was sticking up in the air at an odd angle, still swaying. Planting my heel in the dead mutant¡¯s chest, I ripped the pole free, spraying gore across my boot and up to my knee. Then, I swallowed back another heave of my stomach and padded across the cobblestone plaza.

    The creature saw me coming and knew that I was its end. Had to give it credit, it tried to run. It managed to shamble to its feet and backpedal away, slashing its remaining claws menacingly.

    Until it tripped.

    Over the dead dog.

    I sprang forward and impaled it up through the rib cage as its arms ¡ª arm and a half? ¡ª flew wide, holding the spear hard as the mutant jerked, hissed, bled and died.

    I guess Fido got his, in the end.

    I wrestled my spear free and looked around.

    I couldn¡¯t stay here. This fight had been loud and bloody, and there was no way other mutants hadn¡¯t caught wind. Or other things, lurking in the mid-morning city.

    Did I forget to mention that there were worse things than the subhuman creatures that had devolved from the human populous? Things that shouldn¡¯t exist. Things that were big and fast and mean and ugly and terrifying. Things that had come out of the devastated, fallout jungles with an attitude.

    Yeah. Nuclear warfare for the win.

    I heard that some scientists tried to trap and experiment on a couple of the creatures. On some of the mutants, too. Cause that always ended well in the movies. I suppose some people genuinely wondered where they came from.

    Maybe it was true, though. I wouldn¡¯t know. I just wondered how to kill them.

    And speaking of killing¡­

    200 xp, I thought wearily, flexing my hand on the spear.Just enough.

    I imagined a little bell ringing and a notification popping up on a screen in front of my eyeballs.

    Colin Callum.Level 10 Survivor.

    That¡¯s me.

 Chapter 02

    It was Kyle who¡¯d come up with the game.

    Kyle who I¡¯d met one day, scavenging through an outdoor adventures store for equipment, and who had followed me home like a lost puppy. He looked up to me, I guess. Or something. And I grew fond of him after a while. It was nice to have someone to watch my back, to take a night watch, to chat with on the balcony overlooking the river while we pretended that the world hadn¡¯t gone to shit around us.

    He was an exchange student, living with an Argentine family when the world fell to pieces. At least, that was the story he told me. And I had no reason to question him. He never talked about anything before that. Just like I didn¡¯t. I didn¡¯t press him, either.

    But, in any event, the game was his idea. I¡¯ll never forget how excited he¡¯d been when he came up with it.

    By the time I met Kyle, I knew that there was an escape plan. How to get away from this screwed-up world. Many escape plans, in fact. Each one stupider than the last. I knew that some governments were launching massive space stations, decades ahead of schedule. I knew that some people were fleeing to nuclear bunkers in the mountains to wait out a couple hundred years like rats in holes ¡ª or, more likely, until the mutants finally found and overwhelmed them. I was also vaguely aware that some powerhouse virtual reality gaming company was offering people the chance at ¡°a new life in a world far away.¡±

    That one was the stupidest of all.

    Only it wasn¡¯t. At least according to Kyle.

    It¡¯s called AvatR!he¡¯d told me, and through his excitement I could see the gleam of belief in his eyes. Obsession, even. Some tech billionaire obsessed with the afterlife had spent his entire fortune developing software to transport the human consciousness into ¡°other realms of reality.¡±

    Whatever that meant.

    Apparently it was originally a two-way process. Your body was ¡°disassembled¡± ¡ª yeah, sounded peachy to me, too ¡ª and reassembled as an avatar in a virtual plane of existence. Or a not-so virtual one. I was never quite clear on that. Then, when you wished to return ¡ª days, weeks, or even months later ¡ª you were transported back ¡ª again, light on the details ¡ª and your mind reinserted into a biologically-identical clone. Clones had been around for decades, of course, but never in that sort of copy-paste capacity. They had your DNA, sure, but their minds were their own.

    I mean, how could it possibly work? What did it even mean? Tossing your consciousness around like a hot potato¡­ And I¡¯d never been able to figure out what was in it for the company either, saving all those people. Money, after all, lost quite a lot of value in a world without an economy. And that scared me, not knowing their angle. Scared me almost as much as the idea of falling out of orbit in an ill-prepared, under-manned heap of government-funded scrap metal.

    Yeah, I preferred to trust myself. Only myself.

    But Kyle had been a firm believer in the veracity of their claims. And I¡­ Well, I¡¯d gone ahead and been a hypocrite. Cause I trusted Kyle, too.

    We have to do it, Colin!he¡¯d told me.You and me! Just think. Adventuring together, winning loot, levelling up, building kingdoms¡­He¡¯d trailed off and I could imagine where his mind had wandered.

    Hot fantasy babes?I could have finished for him. Don¡¯t judge, that¡¯s where your mind wanders when you haven¡¯t seen a living woman in more than a year. Did I mention that since the world this company had developed was originally intended as a video game (and also sprang from the imagination of a crazy rich tech nerd) their ¡°new life far away¡± was in a swords-and-sorcery fantasy world?

    Yeah. Like Dungeons and Dragons had sex with an Oculus Rift.

    Of course, that¡¯s when Kyle explained that due to the pushed-up launch date ¡ª and, you know, the impending end to civilization ¡ª the whole clone thing had been put on ice. Insertion into this humblingly medieval existence was a one-way trip. And that was why Kyle had developedhisgame. Because the final part of¡°the immersive AvatR Experience¡±was a series of in-game bonuses and penalties assigned to your character based on¡­ You.

    Again, frustratingly vague on the details. But something along the lines of: ¡°youareyour character.¡± If you¡¯re fit, your character gets Strength bonuses; if you¡¯re fat, your character loses Speed.

    We gamify the real world,Kyle had proposed, so that when we go through those gates into a new life weknowwe¡¯re prepared. We build our own ideal characters out here, then transport them into AvatR!

    I had stared at him like he¡¯d just told me he wanted to turn real life into a video game.

    Only¡­ he had.

    It makes perfect sense,he explained, while I sat there thinking about how little sense it made.We develop skills, we practice combat, we learn languages, we learn the fundamentals of science and physics to simulate magic¡­

    And I¡¯d listened, fascinated by his passion for this outlandish, impossible idea.

    Promise me, Colin,he said, holding out his hand.Promise me, we¡¯ll do this thing. And then, we¡¯ll take on AvatR. Together.

    And me, sappy idiot that I was, I took his hand. And shook it. And made the promise. And then, not long after, Kyle was gone. But my promise, that hadn¡¯t died. I told myself that if I lived to ¡°Level 10¡± playing Kyle¡¯s silly game, I¡¯d try out thisAvatRthing.Or I¡¯d die, trying.

    I owed it to the boy. My friend.

    What else did I have to live for, anyway?

    * * *

    I lived in a high-rise in a neighborhood across the river from the presidential palace. It was a tall, modern building that was all glass and steel and sharp angles. Once, the cream of the city¡¯s elite had lived in this part of town. Now, I lived here. Along with literally no one else, as far as I knew.

    It wasn¡¯t until the front doors that I realized I was bleeding.

    I¡¯d been stumbling along in a daze, thinking about the implications of what had just happened.

    I¡¯m there,I thought.Level 10.Almost a year after Kyle¡¯s death, I had followed through on my mission. And now I had to decide if I would keep my promise.

    After all, it¡¯s one thing to live a whole year of your life trying to fulfil a promise to your dead friend. It¡¯s another thing tokillyourself over that promise.

    Because, let¡¯s be honest, that whole AvatR thing was just a pipe dream. It was a fantasy designed to trick na?ve, gullible people into spending their savings on a final hope at a fantasy life beyond our fucked up world. Who knew? Maybe the Krishn4 Corporation ¡ª the company who built AvatR ¡ª had simply executed thousands of people in a deranged attempt at a mass mercy killing.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    I was turning these thoughts over and over in my mind when I raised my hand from my side to scan my palm and enter the lobby. I instantly realized two things.

    First, I¡¯d been holding my side in the first place.

    Second, my hand left a wet, red handprint on the glass scanner, crimson liquid slowly dripping down the cool pane.

    * * *

    My mind was oddly analytical as I stared at my blood-stained fingers. My eyes calmly followed a bead of the stuff as it trickled and fell,plopto the ground. Then, I turned slowly and looked back the way I¡¯d come.

    Maybe, once, I wouldn¡¯t have noticed. But I¡¯d been living in this hell for almost two years. I¡¯d trained myself to pick out the details. Details like the boot print half-outlined in sludgy ichor on the street, the streak of red on the dented blue BMW I¡¯d stumbled into and rested against half a block back.

    A blood trail,I thought.I left a blood trail for them to follow.

    I didn¡¯t panic. I didn¡¯t think,Oh my god you damn fool you¡¯re fucking dead.It was just an observation. Like I would have made upon noticing I¡¯d tracked mud into the lobby for the cleaner bots to sweep up. The rage and the fear that usually drove me, that made me careful and meticulous and dangerous¡­

    I was disconnected from them. Like my body and emotions were far away and I was floating above them, looking down with disinterest.

    I¡¯d heard about this. About the mutants leaving some sort of natural numbing agent in their wounds. Like how you don¡¯t feel a mosquito bite until later. Only¡­ a million times worse than a mosquito bite. Because a mosquito bite doesn¡¯t turn you into a giant, feral mosquito with an instinctive desire to rend and devour anything you can get your clawed hands on.

    I leaned my spear against the glass-paned wall of the lobby, mopped up the blood with my sleeve and used my dry hand to scan myself in. The doors slid open silently and I entered. They slid shut behind me with a series of softclicksthat belied their security. One of the benefits of modern technology ¡ª with upgraded materials and systems, the lightweight, beautiful glass foyer was probably strong enough to stop anything short of a bazooka.

    Instinctively, though, I checked that my scanners were still in place: simple laser tripwires that would send an urgent alert up to my apartment if something crossed the threshold. Still there. Tiny spheres stuck unobtrusively to the walls at waist height and blending into the paint behind them. Gentle red pulses signaled their readiness to detect intruders. Another one was attached to the door, ready to pick up any impact stronger than a gentle push.

    Walking across the lobby, I vaguely wondered what the hell I was going to do. I looked down again, pulling away the shredded, blood-saturated tee shirt, and saw the deep claw mark across my side, right above my hip. The mutant had gotten me good, and blood was welling between my fingers, running down my leg and soaking my pants.

    Looking at it, I felt a slight ache. But that was the most my dulled pain receptors could manage.

    I¡¯m dead,I thought. And the idea was disturbing enough to merit a furrowed brow.That¡¯s messed up. I wanted to get riled, but really all I felt like doing was sitting down and passing out.Should I be this tired? Maybe it¡¯s the loss of blood.I should probably do something about that.

    My hand smacked down on the Up button for the elevator.

    Ding.

    The elevator car had been waiting for me in the lobby. Where I¡¯d left it. It wasn¡¯t like anyone else had used it in the meantime. I leaned against the wall for a moment, then pushed myself off and stepped inside.

    I heard a gentlewhirr, and when I glanced around I saw that one of the cleaner bots was following along behind me, scrubbing diligently at the disgusting boot prints I was leaving on the marble tiling. The bot was a black disk the size of a dinner plate, about as thick as one of those antique dictionaries that contains all the words in the English language.

    What was it, Webster¡¯s?

    I had no idea why the designers had thought it necessary, but the bots were playful little things. They dashed around, oftentimes weaving between your feet when you tried to walk and chirping little electronic noises in response to your voice.

    ¡°Yo, Webster,¡± I said, and I gestured vaguely at the thing. ¡°Come on in.¡±

    I have no idea if the thing actually understood me, but it chirped happily and zipped into the elevator just before the doors closed. It bumped against the toe of my boot, like it was acknowledging my invitation, then busily set to work scrubbing all around the outline of my sole.

    I stared at it, zoning out until the elevator slid to a stop and opened onto my floor. Webster followed me, scrubbing diligently, as I made my way across the red-carpeted hall and pushed open the door.

    We were just entering my apartment when the alarm went off.

    * * *

    It blared at me, loud and sudden, and actually jarred my mind free from the fog that had settled in.

    ¡°Crap!¡±I hissed, suddenly feeling the hot blood welling over my fingers and the hard, biting pain of the wound in my side. I grunted, doubling over, as the wailing of the siren in my ears continued. I swore some more, stumbling to the marble-topped kitchen counter and smashing on the keyboard at my security station. Sparkling, HD footage ¡ª one of the last reminders of the high-quality life we¡¯d all lived just a few short years ago ¡ª popped up on the trio of monitors.

    The front steps of my building were swarming with mutants. A dozen of them. More. And even as I watched, they were attacking the glass front doors.

    ¡°What¡¯s attracting all of them?¡± I grunted to Webster, watching as one particularly aggressive creature body-slammed the glass and bounced off, rolling down the steps under the feet of the crowd. ¡°Are they really smart enough to come after me in a group? Did I piss them off that badly?¡±

    The cleaner bot beeped in response and buzzed off around the kitchen,whirringand sucking up dirt and the crumbs like a fat kid slurping down a milkshake.

    Okay, so maybe I could have invested some more time in cleaning my apartment. Sue me.

    ¡°Thanks for the insight,¡± I muttered at my new friend, gritting my teeth as a wave of pain stabbed up my body and right into my brain. When my eyes stopped watering, they twitched back to the monitors. Maybe I¡¯d underestimated their primal intellect. Would they really gang up like this, just to take down one troublesome survivor?

    But still, I felt reasonably safe. Safe enough to step away from the computer screens and rip open my cabinet of medical supplies. Bandages, gauze, duct tape¡­ I didn¡¯t have anything to stop the viral bacteria that were doubtless flowing through my system, but I could at least staunch the blood loss. Give myself some space to think.

    I could feel myself getting lightheaded, and the alarm sounds were growing duller and duller in my ears.

    I grunted in pain as I pressed a white bandage to the wound, glancing back to the monitors for a distraction. Luckily, in spite of their ferocity, the mutants shouldn¡¯t be a problem. Like I¡¯d said, the doors downstairs would hold against anything short of ¡ª

    ¡°Oh fuck me¡­¡±

    Remember those things I mentioned, the ones that shouldn¡¯t exist? The ones that came out of jungles that had been radiated to shit.

    Yeah, somehow I¡¯d managed to piss one of those things off, too.

    The gigantic beast looked something like a jaguar, something like an alligator, and something like a goddam triceratops. It had the snarling maw of a jungle cat, scales and whipping tail like a prehistoric swamp lizard, and a three-horned forehead with what I swear was nature¡¯s version of armor-plating. Just to make sure it was completely overpowered, it was also at least 15 feet long, and the mutants around it only stood to its shoulder.

    I swallowed, and may have made a tiny squeaking noise that I immediately blamed on Webster.

    Then, the trijaguagator powered up my front steps like a battering ram and into the front doors, and, well¡­ It was like they¡¯d been smashed in by a goddam tank.

    Glass exploded across the foyer, scattering across the stone floor. As mutants swarmed over the shattered glass and my alarm system went insane, I slapped a strip of duct tape across my side with a hiss and an involuntary gag of pain. The right side of my body was tingling, like it was falling asleep, but I flexed my fingers and forced pressure into my fist.

    ¡°Well, Webster.¡± I said aloud. I gripped the counter as I pushed my way back to the door and snatched up my spear. ¡°I guess we just have two options.¡±

    Almost certain death via dismemberment and consumption by a ravening horde of subhuman monsters. Or probable death via instantaneous vaporization with the tiniest sliver of potential for a life of fortune, glory, adventure and gorgeous fantasy babes.

    Easiest decision of my life.

    ¡°Ya know, Webster,¡± I commented, putting my shoulder against the heavy wooden bureau by the front door. ¡°I think I¡¯ve always wanted to fuck an elf.¡±

    Smash.

    My wound carved a ragged slice of bloody pain through my torso as the bureau crashed down against the door, a makeshift barricade. Then I turned, panting, and hobbled deeper into the lavish apartment, using my spear as a walking staff. The small cleaner bot chirped, seemed to hesitate at the idea of leaving the kitchen floor crumb-covered and dirty, then followed.

    One way or another, it was time to die.

 Chapter 03

    One of the reasons Kyle and I had chosen this particular apartment was that at some point in the past the owners had installed a top-of-the-line AvatR Integration Pod in their spare bedroom. This was ahugefind for my younger friend, because almost all Integration Pods were at dedicated AvatR gaming facilities.

    Wouldn¡¯t you know it, all of the Buenos Aires facilities were in the city center, an area swarming with all sorts of dangerous, angry monstrosities.

    I stood in the doorway for only an instant, breathing raggedly from the walk down the hall. I could tell my heartbeat was unnaturally elevated, could feel it pounding in my chest, and wondered whether it was just the wound or if the disease that had turned the populous was already turning me. I was probably psyching myself out, but I could practicallyfeelthe heat of the infection radiating out into my body, warping my cells, turning me into something terrible.

    A monster.

    I swallowed around a dry throat. ¡°Let¡¯s do this,¡± I commanded myself, and shoved open the door.

    The room was bare, stripped, and bright sunlight from the large window to my left revealed a sleek oblong pod about the size of a twin bed. It gleamed a clean, dazzling white, and read in sharp black letters along the side ¡ªAvatR: a Krishn4 Company.This thing hadeasilycost six-digits for installation. And, despite its simplicity, it looked like it. Did I mention I was in the wealthy part of town?

    I clenched my fist around my spear and ignored the alarms that blared down the hall behind me. I still hadn¡¯t crossed the threshold.

    I knew that every second of hesitation was giving the ravenous mob of creatures more time to swarm up the building, seeking floor by floor. But I hadn¡¯t been in here since Kyle had first showed me how to fire up the machine, referencing a battered user manual every few seconds and turning the tattered pages with delicate reverence.

    I sucked in a breath, hesitating, then was surprised by a flashing movement in my peripheral vision as Webster skittered past my ankles and into the room. The bot cheeped several times, scanning the floor for debris, then seemed to realize that there was nothing but a thin layer of dust. It spun in place and thenwhirredback to me, bumping into the ichor-crusted toe of my boot.

    Cheep.

    Was I imagining it? Or did the bot sound vaguely encouraging?

    ¡°You¡¯re losing it,¡± I grunted to myself as I stepped over Webster and into the room. But I knew that I needed to move, and I¡¯d take whatever encouragement I could get.

    Imighthave several minutes, at most, but it wouldn¡¯t take my enemies long to reach us, even if they searched floor by floor. Of course, that was assuming they didn¡¯t just follow the trail of blood. Which would lead them right to the elevator¡­

    I felt my stomach drop as I remembered using my bloody hand to punch in my floor number.

    So, that wasalsoassuming they couldn¡¯t figure out how to use an elevator. If they could, then they¡¯d be here any¡ªIf you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    Bang!

    I swear the entire apartment shook as something with a lot of pent-up anger smashed into the front door.

    Note to self: mutants know how to use elevators.

    There were roars and screams from the hallway, sounds that were mostly animal and also frighteningly human. My barricade wouldn¡¯t hold for long.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± I grunted, and hobbled as fast as I could for the pod. Luckily, Kyle had done all the difficult programming over a year ago, opening up the control panel and adjusting the necessary settings. All that was left for me to do was smack my palm down on the only button that was visible, leaving a red handprint that marred the pristine white surface.

    The pod split in two with a hiss. The top half hinged back, releasing a gentle billow of white mist and revealing an inner padding of firm green gel.

    ¡°Fucking clich¨¦,¡± I grunted, then levered myself up into the six-figure coffin. It wasn¡¯t lost on me that this thing I was about to die in was worth more money than I¡¯d ever had in the bank.

    The interior was spacious, so after a second of deliberation I set my spear down alongside me and laid back. I started to hesitate, but another crash galvanized me into action and I reached for the lid. I could practically hear the wooden bureau breaking into kindling, and wished that the apartment¡¯s previous owners had had something sturdier in their entry hallway.

    Like a filing cabinet. Or a refrigerator.

    Killed by impractical interior decorating,I thought.Great.I was just about to yank the top down over me when I heard something else.

    Cheep. Cheep.

    Lid still in one hand and pulsing wound lancing pain through me as I twisted my body, I leaned over the lip with a groan. Webster was butting insistently up against the pod, over and over, chirping like mad. I blinked.This is not real.

    I opened my mouth, hesitated a second, then asked, ¡°Do you want to come?¡±

    The cleaner bot stopped moving instantly, rolling back several inches. Itcheepedagain. Just once.

    There¡¯sno waythis thing actually understands me¡­But I didn¡¯t have time to waste.

    Bang! Crash! Raaawr!

    They were inside.

    I swept my arm out, hefted the surprisingly heavy bot up into the pod, and slammed the lid down over us. As the soft glow of blue-white light surrounded us, I briefly wondered whether having a robot in the pod would fuck with my in-game settings¡­ or something¡­ But then I realized I was assuming this would actually work, instead of just killing me instantly.

    I grunted, putting Webster down beside me and the bot settled next to my hip, rolling back and forth several times like a cat settling in for a nap. There was a gentle chime, and a soft female voice.¡°Welcome back, adventurer.¡±But I didn¡¯t have time to interact with Six-Figure Siri. In the gentle light I looked around, panicking.

    Then, I heard the memory of Kyle¡¯s voice in my mind.Don¡¯t worry about it, Colin. It¡¯s simple. Just one button on the outside, a button on the inside, and the Pod takes care of the rest. The most important thing though¡ª

    I saw a button and punched it hard with the side of my fist. Fast, angry, willing Kyle¡¯s narration to stop.

    ¡ª is to prepare for pain.

    The inside of the AvatR Integration Pod pulsed white. White hot.

    I would have screamed, except when I opened my mouth everything was burning.

    My lips, my tongue, my throat¡­ somehow even my teeth were in pain. I couldn¡¯t see anything but the blazing light that flashed in my eyes and blinded me, searing my retinas. My brain wanted to shut down, wanted to fall unconscious, wanted to escape from the heat and the agony that felt like it was peeling my skin from my body with its intensity and laying bare my insides.

    A single thought raced through my dying mind.These gamers are fucking hardcore.

    Then, there was apopand a wrench deep down in my chest. Deeper than my heart, deeper than anything I¡¯d ever felt. Through the pain I somehow knew, with complete clarity, that my soul had just been separated from my body.

    And then everything I was¡­ was gone.

    And then I was dead.

 Chapter 04

    I gasped back to life with all the peace and joy of a newborn baby.

    That is to say, flailing and screaming bloody murder.

    I was lying on my back, and at first blush I thought I was still blind. All I could see was white. Except then I pushed myself up into a sitting position and realized that I was simply in a white room. Super white. Like a neo-Nazi retreat in the Arctic Circle.

    It was a room, may I add, that seemed to have no walls or ceiling. I could only tell it was a room because there was a door across from me, a heavy metal door that was deep black, twisted with eldritch runes, and completely out of place in the peaceful white nothingness that surrounded us.

    Oh, and I sayusbecause at the same time I noticed the door I noticed the man. I shut up instantly, feeling strangely silly for screaming and flailing about on the floor. There was, I realized as I studied the stranger, nothing to scream about. The pain was gone.

    The man leaned back against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked like crap.

    His outfit was some sort of mix-and-match ¡ª CEO meets jungle guerilla soldier meets medieval mercenary. As if instead of business casual, he¡¯d dressed for business combat. His slender frame was draped in a singed white dress shirt under combat webbing, navy dress slacks and an underarm holster where I could see the grip of a pistol. A matte black assault rifle hung by a sling on one side of his body, and at the opposite hip he wore a sheath and a long, straight sword. There was a cut over one black eye, purple and swollen. The cut wasn¡¯t bleeding but was quite recently scabbed over, and his hollow cheeks and forehead were dark with camouflage face paint.

    ¡°I apologize,¡± he said, raising an eyebrow and looking me up and down. He had the kind of warm voice and easygoing eyes that made me want to like him, on instinct. ¡°Usually import isn¡¯t that painful. But I had to burn away the virus that was racing through you. Quite a vindictive little strain.¡±

    I blinked, holding back the hellstorm of shit that I had been about to unleash upon his admission that he was the one responsible for all my pain. My hand went to my side and I glanced down, finding my skin unblemished and whole. My head snapped back up, eyes narrowing.

    ¡°I¡¯m not dead.¡± Oddly, it was the only thing I could think to say.

    Notwhere the hell am I?,who are you?or even,what on Earth is happening?Strangely, when it came to the last question, I had a sneaking suspicion I wasn¡¯t on Earth any longer. And that scared me enough to shut me up.

    ¡°No.¡± The man hesitated, then reached into one of the pouches of his webbing and fished out a pack of cigarettes. It wasn¡¯t a brand I recognized: an olive green package with a symbol on it of a white staff and two twining snakes. I took in the detail as he shook it out and tugged free a long, white cylinder with his lips.

    He crouched beside me and offered held out his hand with the package.

    I shook my head. All I wanted right now were answers.

    ¡°Fair enough,¡± he shrugged. ¡°You probably have a lot of questions. But keep in mind¡­¡± He checked his wrist and I realized he was wearing shiny, expensive-looking watch. This man was a mass of contradictions. ¡°You have maybe five minutes before true, irreversible death.¡±

    I started to talk, stopped, wondered whatthatcomment meant, and started again. There were probably a lot ofgood, reasonable questions for a man in my situation to ask. I opened my mouth to ask one of them, but instead blurted, ¡°You realize that camo paint looks ridiculous in here?¡±

    The stranger blinked in surprise. Then, the corner of his mouth twitched up in a smirk and he chuckled softly, shaking his head. ¡°I like you, mortal,¡± he said. ¡°Straight shooter.¡± He took a puff of the cigarette, then pulled it away from his lips, and I realized he must have lit it up at some point.

    Weird, I didn¡¯t see him do it.

    It took me an extra second to register what he¡¯d called me.Mortal.Well shit. That was just the sort of crap that Kyle would have beenpumped upto hear and that just made me squirm.

    ¡°Any other questions, or are you ready to get started?¡±

    I swallowed. ¡°Are we¡­ in the game?¡±

    ¡°Ah, the game¡­¡± The man seemed to muse for a moment, then shrugged. ¡°We¡¯ll continue to use the metaphor, if you wish. Yes, we¡¯re in the game. Consider this a¡­ hmm, a loading screen.¡±

    I pressed my lips together in a hard line and nodded. ¡°Okay¡­ Okay¡­¡± Kyle would be going insane right now. I¡¯m not sureIwasn¡¯t going insane. ¡°Why am I going to be dead in five minutes? I¡¯m no gamer, but that doesn¡¯t seem like a great mechanic.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± The man lifted his cigarette hand, scratching his forehead with his thumb, and I realized the scab was gone. ¡°Let me put this in terms your kind would understand.¡±

    I rankled a little at the words, but he somehow didn¡¯t seem to mean them insultingly. His tone was pensive and matter of fact.

    ¡°You are at a Crossroads, shall we say, between your home ¡ª Earth, of course ¡ª and the world of Thorr¡¯un. You are neither here, nor there, but even though your soul is in neither place your spiritual imprint is still linked to your home verse. So, unless you complete Avatar Generation in the next four and a half minutes then the twisted chaos spawn that are currently rampaging through your domicile will find your Integration Pod, batter at it until it pops open, interrupt the circuit and yank your soul into the eternal darkness of the Abyss.¡±

    I opened my mouth, snapped it shut, and scrambled to my feet.No time for any more stupid questions,I told myself.Death. Eternal darkness. Not good. Avoid.¡°What do I need to do?¡± I demanded, staring down at the man as he settled back on his haunches.

    ¡°I¡¯m obligated to ask,¡± he said, taking a pull. ¡°Are you aware of the Terms and Conditions?¡±

    I frowned, then shrugged. ¡°Assume I am.¡±

    The man frowned thoughtfully. He seemed to be making a series of very complex mental calculations, then he took another puff and gestured as he exhaled to one side. ¡°Even if I skip them, we still don¡¯t have enough time.¡±

    I clenched my fists.No. This isnothappening.¡°What do you¡ª?¡±

    He held up a hand, cutting me off. ¡°Unlessyou give me permission to cut some corners.¡±

    I blew out a tense breath. ¡°Anything you need.¡± Despite the atmosphere of calm, I could somehowfeela sense of impending doom. Like that feeling when you know you¡¯re going to puke, but haven¡¯t quite decided to sprint for the toilet yet.

    ¡°Good.¡± He gathered his thoughts. ¡°Before we dash through character creation, I¡¯m obligated to tell you. Character Customization is usually a delicate, personal process. You are giving up control over your physical appearance in-world to me, to expedite the process. Do you agree?¡±

    I hesitated.

    ¡°There are several hundred variables to account for,¡± he added. ¡°For a being like myself, not much to handle. For you, time we don¡¯t have.¡±

    I jerked my head in a nod. The man ¡ª or whatever he was ¡ª was right. I didn¡¯t have time for that shit.But still¡­¡°Could you just¡­ do something for me?¡± I asked. The man seemed to havesomeamount of power over this situation. Maybe he could¡­

    ¡°If I can.¡± A smile turned up the corner of his mouth, like he knew what was coming.

    I felt a tug of self-consciousness, then furiously stomped it. This was a goddam game for crying out loud. And afantasyat that. It was in the title. ¡°Just make me stupidly attractive,¡± I ordered. ¡°And muscular. But in like¡­ a not-generic way. I don¡¯t want to be some meathead.¡±

    His grin was obvious now.

    ¡°And I want to be aman.¡± I added, somehow sensing that this was an important clarification.

    My companion¡¯s eyes twitched sideways and his grin turned a little sheepish. Then he asked, ¡°So we have a future Cupid on our hands?¡±

    I couldn¡¯t help but snort and let a little smile twitch across my mouth. ¡°I hope so.¡±

    ¡°Do you have any preferences for Race?¡±

    I got the feeling that we were moving on, and furrowed my brow.

    I¡¯d never been a big gamer, but once upon a time Ihadread an absurd quantity of books. ¡°Elf,¡± I snapped back instantly. ¡°Or¡­¡± I shrugged. ¡°Elf-adjacent.¡± No matter what universe I¡¯d read, elves all seemed to share a particular set of extremely desirable traits: they were fast, strong, smart and lived a long damn time. Traits that would be pretty much the polar opposite of my current self ¡ª which was perfect, as far as I was concerned.

    ¡°Class?¡±

    I blinked. ¡°You mean like¡­ Algebra?¡±

    The man seemed unable to help himself. He actually laughed softly, snorting smoke out his nostrils. ¡°I see you didn¡¯t get a chance to read the Player Handout.¡±

    Instead of saying,Lost that when my only friend died,I spread my hands. ¡°Guilty.¡±

    ¡°Let me put it another way. In the land of Thorr¡¯un, you begin your life with your feet on one of several paths. Arcane, the path of magic. Martial, the path of bodily force. Divine, the path of the gods. Psionic, the path of the mind. Primal, the path of nature.¡± He didn¡¯t check his watch. ¡°We have four minutes.¡±If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°Martial.¡± I didn¡¯t have to think much about that. Fighting was all I really knew. ¡°But¡­¡±

    The other man hesitated, raising his eyebrows before he went on.

    I felt a thrill run through me, then said it. What did I have to lose? ¡°I¡­ I really would like to know some magic.¡± It felt like a guilty declaration, like I was going against everything that had been pounded into my mind since I was a child.Magic isn¡¯t real. There is no Santa Clause. The Easter Bunny? Pshaw.But it seemed like, just maybe, now would be the time to ask.

    The man seemed a little surprised, but then he smiled broadly. ¡°Your wish is my mandate¡­ or however your saying goes.¡±

    My shoulders slumped, and I didn¡¯t realize how tense I¡¯d been, waiting for him to laugh at me.

    The man clapped his hands, rubbing his palms together. Then, with a grunt, he stood, fully. The man had some serious height. I¡¯m not a short dude, and I had to look up to meet his gaze.

    ¡°Now, on to penalties, bonuses and upgrades.¡±

    ¡°Which are¡­?¡±

    The man stared at me, meeting my gaze directly for what I abruptly realized was the first time. His eyes were strange, I noticed, shifting, hazel and green and molten gold all in the span of a few seconds. Then, his eyes went out of focus and it was like he was lookingthroughme.

    I hesitated, feeling a little awkward, but didn¡¯t look away.

    After several seconds, the man blinked and shook his head slightly. ¡°Sorry that took a moment,¡± he said. He glanced me up and down, frowning slightly. ¡°I just had to make sure you weren¡¯t gaming the system.¡±

    My eyebrows rose. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    He scratched his cheek, thoughtfully, camo face paint smudging under his fingers. ¡°I¡¯ve been doing this awhile, and I¡¯ve never seen someone so obviously prepared for Integration.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡±Thank you, Kyle.

    ¡°Except in a few, obvious ways.¡±

    I paused my self-congratulation. ¡°How do you mean?¡±

    The man shrugged. ¡°For example, I¡¯m going to have to give you a -3 starting penalty to Charisma.¡±

    Somehow I knew that when he said Charisma it was capitalized, like it was the title of something, and not just a generic personality trait. I frowned, and started to protest, but he just shook his head.

    ¡°Friend, you haven¡¯t spoken to anyone in a year. And you were never a super social guy to begin with. Do you want to waste time fighting me on this?¡±

    My mouth snapped shut. Ididwant to know how he knew those things about me, but now also wasn¡¯t the time to probe. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Good, because that¡¯s the end of the bad news.¡±

    I nodded, waiting.

    ¡°Due to intense physical exercise and training, you¡¯re getting a +3 starting bonus to each of Strength, Dexterity and Constitution.¡± He paused, seemed to do some more calculations, and shook his head. ¡°My gods, mortal. What kind of training have you been doing?¡±

    I hesitated, my mind whipped back through my daily routine: Wake up before sunrise. Meditate. Hunt. Return to shower off the blood and grime. Hours of language training with AI conversation partners. Work out at the gym two floors down from my apartment. Back for hours of physics, biology and chemistry study with another AI tutor.

    I barely had time to eat or sleep, but that was what I¡¯d wanted. Working myself that hard, I barely had time to think of Kyle. Barely had time to think of my life before. Barely had time for guilt. All that mattered was playing Kyle¡¯s game.

    ¡°A bit of this and that,¡± I shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t think we have time to go into it.¡±

    The stranger jerked his head in a nod. ¡°Right you are. I¡¯m going to give you some appropriate Skills, Feats and Marks, and hopefully you¡¯ll trust I¡¯m not short-changing you.¡±

    I shrugged again, pretending to know what Skills, Feats and Marks were. ¡°Not like I have much choice.¡±

    ¡°Indeed.¡± The man hesitated, eyes flickering back and forth like he was reading something, and then he nodded. ¡°You just have four more choices to make and we¡¯re done.¡±

    ¡°Hit me.¡± My heart was starting to beat faster. I was getting excited, and for the first time in a year, it wasn¡¯t because I was about to kill something. I wondered at it, and realized it might actually be because I was gettingintothe whole gaming thing.

    ¡°You have a strangely well-developed knowledge of your world¡¯s laws.¡±

    I flashed back to Kyle¡¯s words ¡ªwe learn the fundamentals of science to simulate magic.

    ¡°So, I offer you this choice of Abilities: Devious Conjurer or Arcane Framework.¡±

    I blinked. ¡°Um¡­¡±

    The other man cleared his throat uncomfortably. ¡°Three minutes left. Let me make it easier. You said you wish for a magical aptitude. Do you prefer the ability to steal spells? Or the ability to create your own?¡±

    I hesitated. I wasn¡¯t above stealing. I¡¯d stolen countless times, just to survive. But stealing is only worthwhile if the other person has something worth taking. ¡°Create my own.¡±

    The man nodded. He puffed at his cigarette, which was getting on the shorter side. ¡°Now, along with yourobviouslymeta-gamed Skill and Attribute preparations, you also broughtthisthing,¡± with a flick of his wrist, he was suddenly gripping the haft of my double-sided spear, ¡°and whateverthisis¡­¡± A wave with his cigarette hand, and suddenly a panicked chirping filled the silence.

    The small black cleaner bot Webster appeared, several feet above the ground. It plummeted, bounced, thenvrrrmedacross the floor, circled around me several times and then skittered behind my back. Itcheepedandbeepedseveral times, and I could have sworn it was swearing angrily at the strange man.

    Or maybe I was just projecting.

    Weirdest cleaning bot ever.

    I spread my hands. ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t bring them with you,¡± the man told me. ¡°The portal is for sentient creatures only. But Icanoffer you trades.¡±

    Huh¡­Why did I feel a slight twinge of regret when he told me I couldn¡¯t bring Webster? I shook my head. ¡°Good¡­ Great. What do you have on offer?¡±

    The man tucked his cig between his lips and gripped the spear with both hands. He flexed slightly, testing the strength of the steel pole, then spun it several times. He was obviously comfortable with weapons, and I was suddenly nervous. I wanted to protest, when he abruptly tossed the spear straight up in the air.

    I tried follow it with my eyes, but by the time I glanced up it was gone.

    ¡°Interesting,¡± he said, and I glanced back down into his face. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything quite like it. Innovative. Primitive, but well-made. I can offer you one enchanted weapon in return.¡±

    Primitive my ass!I wanted to protest.As far as I¡¯m concerned, that¡¯s a fucking lightsaber.But I didn¡¯t have the time to quibble. Instead, I shrugged.A weapon for a weapon.Seemed fair. ¡°Done.¡±

    The stranger nodded. ¡°Good. Now¡­ for this strange device.¡± He clapped his hands and, with a panickedcheep, Webster suddenly floated through the air and landed in his hands.

    I heard thewhirrof the bot¡¯s treads spinning uselessly as it tried to escape, and I felt a little sorry for the little guy. But if trading in this bot was going to get me something to help survive in a new world, then I would sacrifice it in a second.

    The other man tilted the bot this way and that, sniffed it, and then looked up at me. ¡°For this unique mechanical construct, I offer you a choice. A second enchanted item of guaranteed use in your coming perils.Or¡­¡± he paused. ¡°A bonded companion animal.¡±

    I blinked. ¡°A companion animal?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Like¡­ a guide dog?¡±

    ¡°Probably less ferocious than a dog.¡±

    I hesitated. Coming into the game with two magical items¡­ That sounded pretty overpowered. And I was never one to get sentimental. I opened my mouth.Sorry Webster.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take the companion animal.¡±

    I blinked. Was that really what I¡¯d meant to say?Damn it, Colin.I frowned and tried to ignore the gentle glow of warmth that radiated through me as Webster chirped several times.In gratitude?I wondered. But I didn¡¯t really believe that.

    The man was grinning. ¡°Youwillbe popular, won¡¯t you?¡± he mused. He tossed Webster into the air, and with a finalcheepthe cleaning bot disappeared the way of my spear.

    ¡°That¡¯s three choices,¡± I said, my internal clock ticking furiously. I ignored his offhand comment, though something tugged at my mind and told me it sounded important. ¡°One left?¡±

    He paused. ¡°Your name.¡±

    For the first time, I didn¡¯t hesitate. It was the only question I was able to answer with absolute certainty. ¡°Jondalar.¡±

    ¡°Jondalar¡­¡± the man mused.

    I nodded firmly, not offering any further information.

    ¡°Very well.¡± He said it with an air of finality, flicking away his cigarette butt. It vanished.

    I waited a second. Then another.

    Nothing happened.

    ¡°Are we done?¡±

    The stranger nodded, smiling. ¡°And with a minute to go, no less. I¡¯d guess we set some kind of record.¡±

    I gave him a look. Then looked down at myself. ¡°Is something¡­ supposed to happen?¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± The man shook his head and tossed a thumb over his shoulder. ¡°Not until you cross through the portal.¡±

    I nodded as the black iron door beyond him opened.That makes sense.I dashed past him, putting my hand on the frame. Through the doorway there was nothing but shadow and inky darkness. I hesitated, and as I paused an idea suddenly springing to my mind. I glanced back at the man. He¡¯d turned to face me, and was shaking another cigarette out of the pack. ¡°You forgot something,¡± I told him.

    He cocked his head. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°Something else I brought to trade.¡± I grinned.

    ¡°I don¡¯t follow¡­¡± His expression drew together, like he knew I was trying to pull something.

    ¡°The virus,¡± I told him. ¡°I assume that won¡¯t be coming with me, either?¡±

    The man opened his mouth to retort, paused, then smiled instead. ¡°Very well,¡± he said. ¡°What would you have me trade you for such a pestilence?¡±

    I paused. Hadn¡¯t thought that far ahead. ¡°Any suggestions?¡± I finally asked, weakly.

    My companion laughed. It was a hearty, full-bodied sound. ¡°Trick me and then beg my help,¡± he said, shaking his head. ¡°Youarean amusing one.¡± Then he gave me a level look, considering. ¡°For your clever wits, I will grant you a blessing. And for amusing me, a favor.¡±

    ¡°A favor?¡± I asked.

    The man shrugged, his assault rifle swaying in its sling. ¡°As I said, friend Jondalar.¡±

    I knew I didn¡¯t have much time. I could almost feel the seconds of my life ticking down. Somewhere, far away, back on Earth, there was a raging tide of subhuman creatures battering at my coffin. Trying to kill me. But I took a step away from the open portal. ¡°What¡¯s the favor?¡±

    The man chuckled softly, and held out the pack of cigarettes. ¡°It¡¯s good for you,¡± he told me around the white cylinder he held between his smiling lips. ¡°Take one.¡±

    Big tobacco really did a number on you if you actually believe that, I thought, but for once I kept my mouth shut. If I was being honest with myself, the man had been straight with me so far. And he had no reason to fuck me over now.

    I took several tentative steps forward. I tugged free a smoke, sniffed it carefully, and put it to my lips. I waited for him to take out a lighter, or matches, or something.

    Instead, with what I swear was a twinkle in his eye, he snapped his fingers and then took a long pull. I blinked as I saw the tip of the cylinder glow orange with ember.

    Okay,I thought, trying not to let my mind spin out.That¡¯s fair.

    Then, the man blew out a plume of smoke that seemed thicker, greyer and more aromatic than anything I¡¯d ever smelled before. And I frowned. Because it smelled¡­

    Amazing. Like,warm-chocolate-chip-cookies-from-grandma¡¯s-oventype amazing.

    I pulled in a breath, curious, and the instant I tasted the smoke I realized that whatever this stuff was¡­ it wasn¡¯t tobacco. It wasn¡¯t any sort of thing you could find back home. And I should know because¡­ well, I¡¯d tried most things you could find back home.

    Then, a split second later, I stumbled back a step and tripped over my own feet.

    Glowing golden letters had appeared in front of my eyes, flat and close like they were inches from my face.

    <hr>

    You have completed unlocked an Achievement! Congratulations!

    Smoke ¡®Em If You¡¯ve Got ¡®Em

    Hermes, god of the Crossroads, has deigned to smoke with you: a lovely blend of Ambrosia, Hand-Rolled Leaves of Hesperides and Nostalgia.

    You are the first person to unlock this Achievement.

    Gain 500 xp!

    You have tasted Ambrosia of the gods.

    Gain a permanent 100% boost to Stamina regeneration! Gain a permanent 100% boost to HP regeneration!

    You have received the Mark of the Traveler.

    <hr>

    I felt myself falling backwards, through the open door, through the darkness as my hands and feet flailed wildly. There was nothing beneath me. There was nothing before me. There was only the rectangle of light that dwindled as I fell.

    The cigarette was no longer between my lips, and I realized it was because my mouth had fallen open. I was yelling again. Cursing. Screaming. Bellowing out in terror.

    Far above me, the door swung closed.

 Chapter 05

    I fell into the world of Thorr¡¯un through the velvet ceiling of a massive canopied bed.

    As I hung suspended for a single instant, I had time to take in a huge, stone room dimly lit by flickering torches. The corners were draped in shadow. In one wall was a tall, arched window. Then, I was plummeting, crashing through the wooden framework, arms and legs akimbo.

    I was lucky in that the gigantic feather mattress provided a soft landing.

    I was unlucky in that the bed was already occupied.

    I had no chance to see its occupants, though, because the world was spinning and so was I. I bounced a foot or so in the air, flailing and surrounded by endless sheets of black cloth, my ears picking up the muffled sounds of a gruff, angry voice roaring in a language I didn¡¯t recognize.

    A second later, the words rearranged themselves in my mind. I realized I did speak the language. And I realized that I was deeply, deeply fucked.

    ¡°Assassin! Guards! Guards!¡±

    <hr>

    Welcome to Thorr¡¯un!

    As a first-time player character, you have unlockedTutorial: for the first 12 hours of your life, you are consideredInvulnerable.

    <hr>

    The cheerful, golden notification popped up in the center of my vision as I struggled to free myself.

    Oh,I thought, fingers tearing at the heavy velvet hangings. They wrapped around my limbs, trying to trap and suffocate me. The cloth was old, smelling of dust and mold.Invulnerability could be useful right about now.

    <hr>

    Congratulations! You have spawned as theLevel 1characterJondalar.

    You have 14 Unassigned Attribute Points. Please see your Character Sheet to assign Attribute Points.

    <hr>

    No time for that!I struggled, managing to roll of the bed. I landed on all fours, grunting with pain as my knees struck the stone floor.

    I flicked a glance over my shoulder and saw that the giant cloth tent I¡¯d dropped on the bed¡¯s occupants was heaving like a storm-tossed sea. There were at least two figures wrestling beneath it, struggling to free themselves.

    One of them was still shouting.¡°Assassin! Assassin! Guards!¡±

    The other was growling and snarling, either in a language I didn¡¯t recognize or in no language at all.

    Bang!

    On the far end of the bedchamber a wooden door burst open. Six figures dashed in, clanking like mad in matching suits of full-on plate armor. They were short and stocky, built like tanks.

    <hr>

    We¡¯re sorry, butTutorialhas been permanently disabled.

    <hr>

    Shit.I scrambled to my feet.

    Six helmeted heads scanned the room and locked onto me.

    Shit shit shit.

    Then, guttural yells rose from half a dozen throats as the short, stocky warriors charged across the room.

    <hr>

    Congratulations! By willingness of fate and fortune, you¡¯ve reachedLevel 2!

    You have 18 Unassigned Attribute Points. Please see your Character Sheet to assign Attribute Points.

    Good luck, brave adventurer. You¡¯ll need it.

    <hr>

    ¡°Holy crap¡­¡± I muttered desperately, waving my hands furiously in front of my face.

    The notifications crowded one another, each one scrolling up across my vision as the next appeared, and I tried to brush away the words, shove them to the side, swipe them away, but nothing seemed to work.

    I tried to see around them, to gauge the incoming soldiers, but all I could tell was that they were carrying long, heavy polearms and had leveled them like lances as they thundered toward me.

    I tried to dodge to one side but tripped over something squat and heavy ¡ªA chest?¡ª and sprawled to the floor, air spewing from my lungs. I heard theclankandthudof armored feet and then thewhooshof a blade splitting the air. I rolled instinctively, hearing the ringingclangof steel on stone behind me.

    ¡°Fuck!¡± I yelled, shoving myself forward and crashing straight into a wall. I bounced off, ears ringing, stunned as I sprawled on my back.

    The ringing footsteps swerved to follow me. Upside down, I could see the heavy blades lowered to thrust into my prone body.

    ¡°Hold!¡±The voice was deep, harsh and powerful.

    The soldiers thundered to a halt, one of their blades literally throwing up sparks as it scraped to a halt along the stone floor just inches from my bare, heaving ribs.

    The notifications slowly dissipated, leaving my vision clear. The only thing obscuring it now were the group of armored humanoids, squat and thickly built. They crowded around me, polearms held at the ready.

    I tried not to think about the fact thatat the readymeantready to impale yours truly.Up close, I could see through their open-faced helms. I blinked in surprise. The soldiers looked how I¡¯d always imagined dwarves: thick features and big noses with bushy beards and mustaches. The only difference was that their skin was ashen grey. I wondered what that meant.

    I realized, then, that on top of my other training it might have shown foresight for me to read up on some lore.

    Oops.

    I looked around wildly and saw the figure who¡¯d taken command of the situation.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    It was another one of the grey-skinned dwarves, standing on the edge of the huge bed with his fists on his hips. He was thickly muscled from his shoulders to his toes, and I could see every line of his gnarled physique.

    Because he was buck ass naked.

    A final notification obscured my vision of the dwarf, but the image of his dangly bits had already seared itself into my memory.

    <hr>

    Welcome toKhazzad Bharush ur-Godall!

    Abandoned to the ravages of time, this ancient dwarven stronghold will test your courage, faith and endurance as you struggle to survive.

    Good luck, adventurer!

    <hr>

    Thanks,I thought sarcastically as the notification faded as rapidly as it had come. But the message¡¯s kind wishes did nothing to ease the anger, frustration and fear that were pumping through my body. There was only one explanation for everything that had just happened.

    The game was trying to kill me.

    I kept perfectly still, watching as the dwarf considered me down his bulbous, hooked nose.

    His bushy black beard fell to his waist and he had a long braid that draped over one shoulder and down his heaving chest in a dark rope. I wished that his beard was just slightly longer, but alas. He was built like a keg: short and round, but somehow still rippling with muscle. A keg with a six pack.

    Behind him, the fallen drapes continued to rustle, and he turned. I expected him to help his companion disentangle themselves, but instead he just delivered a kick to the shapeless mass of black, dusty velvet.

    There was a soft cry of pain, then another growl.

    ¡°Quiet!¡±he boomed.¡°I¡¯m thinking!¡±

    Ouch.I thought, wincing as pain shot through my ears. I wondered if the dwarf did a volume lower than Thunder. Hoping it wouldn¡¯t tick him off, I slowly rolled over onto my stomach.

    ¡°You there! Don¡¯t move!¡±

    I froze, eyes flicking up, keeping my gaze intentionally unfocused until it was halfway up the dwarf¡¯s broad chest. He was pointing at me imperiously with one thick finger.

    I swallowed. This was the dwarf in charge, and I¡¯d royally pissed him off. My mind raced. I didn¡¯t know much about videogames, especially the type of fantasy RPG that AvatR was meant to emulate, but I didn¡¯t imagine characters usually spawned in the bedchamber of seven angry dwarves.

    I glanced at the mass of fabric behind him that was furtively rustling.Snow White, is that you?

    The dwarf lowered his hand, eyes narrowing. They were strange, those eyes, a heated golden amber color that was at the same time oddly flat and without luster. His sudden silence was eerie as he seemed to examine me, his measured gaze slowly traveling down my body and back up.

    I didn¡¯t return the favor, trying to protect my traumatized mind.

    When he spoke again, his voice was gravely and low.

    Still like thunder,I thought.Just a bit further away.

    ¡°Either you¡¯re the most inept assassin in the history of Thorr¡¯un,¡± he rumbled. ¡°Or you were doing something else creeping around my bedchamber.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not¡ª¡± I started to protest, but the dwarf¡¯s features darkened and there was a sudden movement in my peripheral vision. I tried to duck sideways, on instinct, but I wasn¡¯t fast enough to avoid the armored fist that smashed into my cheek with a softclangand sent me sprawling to the floor. My vision swam.

    Got it. No interruptions.

    The pale figure half a dozen feet away, towering over my sprawled body, smiled slightly. It wasn¡¯t a happy smile. Rather, it was supremely satisfied. ¡°One way or another, after I¡¯ve had my fill here,¡± he cast a glance over his shoulder back into the bed, ¡°I¡¯m certain you¡¯ll be eager to tell me how you came to be so deep in my kingdom, undetected.¡± At the last word, he cast a glance over his soldiers.

    It was a calm look, but I swear I heard several of the dwarven guards shuffle uncomfortably.

    Wouldn¡¯t want to be you guys,I thought snarkily. Then I paused, realizing how stupid that comment was coming from me.

    King Dwarf gestured, rings flashing on his fingers. ¡°Take him to the Anvil.¡±

    That sounded promising.

    There were clanking sounds all around me. Big, broad hands grabbed under my arms and heaved me to my feet. My legs felt a little wobbly, but as I tried to blink back to awareness I realized I was being tugged toward the doorway. I looked back, past the glinting forest of polearms and over the heads of my short, thickly-built captors.

    The naked dwarf had turned back to the bed, evidently dismissing us from his thoughts. His broad back flexed as he wrenched back the sheets, revealing¡­

    I blinked.

    It was a woman. And, unless I missed my guess, she wasnota dwarf.

    Definitely not¡­

    I couldn¡¯t help myself. My eyes devoured her body. I¡¯m not sure how I could see so clearly in the low light, but I could pick out the strands of her chestnut hair, one side braided and the other side tousled and falling across her face. Her skin was smooth, shining in the flickering torchlight. I could see the swell of two ample, round breasts and the curve of a narrow waist. Her legs were long, lithe, disappearing under the tangle of black cloth. In other words, she was hot as all hell. Of course, there was the small consideration that her supple hide was the dark color of evergreen needles. And the fact that when she bared her teeth at the dwarf I could see that her lower canines were long and sharp, predatory.

    But my hormones, rushing through my body, weren¡¯t overly concerned. I felt a prickle of heat in the pit of my stomach. Inappropriate, probably, given my situation. But I hadn¡¯t seen a living, breathing female in almost two years. Cut a guy some slack.

    ¡°Now, now, my dear,¡± the grey dwarf murmured softly with a look that was neither caring nor particularly aroused. ¡°Time to play.¡±

    My ears twitched and I felt my mouth tighten into a scowl. On top of all the other things that had my head spinning ¡ª everything fromliterallyteleporting into a castle bedchamber and interrupting a dwarven lord to being sucker punched by an armored fist that felt as heavy as a bowling ball ¡ª it seemed like all the rules I thought I knew about this type of world had been turned upside down.

    Aren¡¯t dwarves usually¡­ honorable? Or something?

    A deep, unexpected part of me squirmed. It was a part I hadn¡¯t felt in a long time, a part of me that seemed muffled, like years of Survival Mode had kept it under wraps. Was it some distant memory of chivalry? Some antiquated desire to protect a beautiful woman from harm? Was it just the gentle, emotionless tone of voice the pale dwarf used that filled me with dread? Or was it the fact that the last time I could have helped someone, I chose the path of the coward?

    I couldn¡¯t be a coward. Not again. Not this time. But before my addled mind could react I was yanked, stumbling, back toward the doorway and the hallway beyond.

    That probably would have been the end of it. My survival instincts would have kicked back in. I would have been taken to some shithole where they could imprison and likely torture me. I definitely didn¡¯t expect five star treatment. But then several things happened, very quickly. All at once, in fact.

    The beautiful woman bared her teeth at the dwarf, shoving herself up and lunging towards him with a snarl. The dwarf laughed, boulder-like muscles bunching as he backhanded her across the face and sent her sprawling to the mattress.

    And I received yet another notification, the giant block of text obscuring my vision.

    <hr>

    Thanks for trading! In return for [Unique, Crafted, Double-Sided Spear], you have been granted aMagic Weapon!

    THORN, Blade of Sorrow

    Item Type: Unique

    Item Class: One or Two-Handed Melee

    Material: Enchanted Steel

    Damage: Stabbing, Slashing

    Requirements: Str 13

    Effects: Thorn, Blade of Sorrow, takes the shape of EITHER a six-foot warspear OR a simple ring of twisted iron. Removing the ring will activate Thorn¡¯s enchantment, while a simple thought from its owner will deactivate it. If moved more than 50 yards from its owner, Thorn has a 10% likelihood of reappearing in ring form on its owner¡¯s hand within the first minute, with the probability increasing by 10% in every subsequent minute.

    Description: A long, deadly spear, Thorn was forged for the hero Korgan by the giant smith Domohr dan Visser.

    <hr>

    Between one stumbling, dragging step and the next, I felt a sudden weight strike my palm as a six-foot-long spear pulsed into existence with a flash of blue-white light. My fingers gripped it instinctively, and I felt a sudden heat shoot through my arm as my guards fell back, reeling and shielding their faces with hoarse shouts. As the notification faded, I twisted, my other hand clamping down on the haft of the spear and my eyes darting left and right.

    I was a stranger, in a strange land. I had no friends, no allies, and no fucking clue what was happening. But for all the things I didn¡¯t know, there was one thing that was certain.

    This was my second chance. My chance to do things right.

    And that meant I had to kick some ass.

 Chapter 06

    As the pale, dark-bearded, bare-assed Dwarf Lord pinned the captive woman to his bed, I spun the spear in my hands. It felt light, balanced,deadly.

    Like a hero¡¯s weapon.

    The thought dashed through my mind and I almost laughed. I was no hero.

    But my body was already moving, instinct and hundreds of hours of hunting coming to bear as I instinctively punched forward with both hands, using the shaft of the weapon like a quarterstaff and smashing the closest dwarf in the face with a length of darkly-forged iron.

    There was a loudcrackand he fell away, blood fountaining from a shattered nose. Movement beside me, and I spun away, hair whipping across my face. Thick, pale hair. Wait¡­ Wha¡ª?

    A halberd slashed across my ribs, hot blood spraying.

    I roared, twisted, thrust. The tip of my spear glanced off a chest plate with a ringing scrape, knocking the dwarf back a step. But I charged anyway, kicking out flat-footed. I had height, and my speed surprised the soldier. I think he was surprised that I was attacking at all. My heel connected, and I saw I was wearing supple leather boots that climbed up my calves. The soldier stumbled and my blade slashed, carving a red line across his open-faced helm and shattering his teeth.

    Brutal.

    But there was no time to waste on pity because there were more, crowding in, a clanking sound behind warning me to dive forward over my downed opponent. The spiked tip of a thrusting halberd passed through the space I¡¯d just vacated.

    I was going deeper into the room. And maybe that was wrong, because escape and survival¡­ weren¡¯t those the other way? But I wasn¡¯t in Survivor Mode.

    I was in Hero Mode.

    The difference? I was charging toward the buff, grinning dwarf who spun to face me. His limp cock flopped between his thick thighs. In one hand, he gripped the luxurious, chestnut hair of the green-skinned woman, pulling back her head. I should have stopped when I saw him grin. It probably meant something bad. Very bad. But instead I spun my weapon over my head with both hands and swung for the fences, the gleaming edge of the foot-long spearhead cutting the air.

    I leaped towards him, and for a single instant I knew, without a doubt, that I was doing the right thing.

    The smirk faltered only slightly as he lifted his free hand and spoke. In a thundering, rumbling voice that could break mountains, the Dwarf Lord uttered a single ringing word. His hand swept across his body, a swift, grasping, slicing movement.

    Magic.

    It was like a gigantic fist had slammed me, flung me, my body spinning through the air and the spear ripping free from my grip. Crack.I smashed into the wall six or seven feet up and hung there, suspended like there was a massive vice grip squeezing me against the stone masonry. I couldn¡¯t breathe, my body straining and about to snap under the massive force.

    Only then the dwarf screamed hoarsely, and the invisible power that held me disappeared.

    I flopped to the floor, flailing limbs barely managing to cushion my descent. My head lolled and my sight blurred, a literal red haze beating at the edges of my vision in time with my heartbeat. I didn¡¯t know what it meant in game terms, but in real terms¡­ It fucking hurt. My pulse sounded like the bassline of an EDM track that was pounding in my head. A shard of agony spiked through my brain.

    ¡°Shit,¡± I grunted. My ears twitched again ¡ª a strange, uncomfortable experience ¡ª and I heard the clanking and grunting of pursuing dwarves.These fuckers¡­I thought.All I wanted was to escape some mutants and now I have to deal withthiscrap.

    My hand went to the back of my head, the origin of the pain spike. My fingers felt hot blood and matted hair. I brought them before my swimming gaze. Stained red.

    I swayed to my feet, ducked under a swiping halberd, then fell to my hands and knees, vomiting.

    Fast movements,I thought.Big no.But I couldn¡¯t help it if I wanted to live. I lashed out with my booted foot, catching the inside of a dwarven knee.Crunch.A hoarse cry of pain and the clatter of a falling polearm followed by the louder crash of a toppling, armored soldier. I hoped his floundering body would give me a moment of space.

    Falling back against the wall, I twitched my gaze this way and that. As soon as my eyes lit on it, I hooked my foot under my spear and flicked it up into my hand. I didn¡¯t even question that I was already thinking of it asmine. Then, my eyes lifted to the biggest threat.

    Oh wow¡­I thought with disbelief.She didn¡¯t¡­

    My heart thumped with admiration for the strange, captive woman. The naked dwarf was bleeding from his thigh, where a bloody mess couldn¡¯t obscure obvious bite marks in his pale skin. To distract him from flattening me against the wall, the woman had taken a solid chunk out of his leg.

    But not without consequences.

    Fuck.

    The dwarf hadn¡¯t let go of her hair, and now he had yanked back her head, his huge fist rising to pummel her upturned face.

    Not if I can help it.My arm was going back and then forward, my shoulders bunching and my entire body uncoiling like a loaded spring. As the naked lord¡¯s fist paused for a second at the zenith, my weapon flew through the air. I¡¯d never thrown a spear in my life, so it must have been beginner¡¯s luck that the six foot length of iron and steel skewered through his side and punched several inches out his stomach.

    The ashen-skinned dwarf belched out a jagged, guttural scream of surprise. He stumbled on the mattress and the woman wriggling free from his grip. She shoved him behind as she struggled my way. I winced at the blood mist that covered her lovely features, but she was already bounding toward me across the bed.

    I tried to ignore the incredibly inopportune twitch of my eyes that took in her bouncy, athletic movements. Behind her, the dwarf was coming to his feet, turning awkwardly with a heavy iron-shafted spear dragging behind him.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    As I stared at him, suddenly realizing I¡¯d surrendered my only weapon, a notification popped up. I flinched in surprise, expecting it to block my vision, but it was just a line of text that unfurled above the dwarf¡¯s head.

    <hr>

    ????

    Level 9 Duergar Lord

    <hr>

    Only then the remaining guards were closing in around me and he was blocked from my view. One of them was bleeding heavily from a broken, mashed-up nose, and all were snarling.

    I backed up, hands held up in useless defense. Then, in a blink, all of them had similar text boxes.

    <hr>

    Duergar

    Level 7 Soldier

    <hr>

    I wanted to know what the notifications meant ¡ªwhat the hell was a duergar?¡ª but a brief flash of movement distracted me. One guard suddenly tripped forward as he was barreled over from behind, and then a sprinting green figure was tackling me backward.

    I wondered why.

    Crash.

    And then I remembered the only other way out of the room.

    The window.

    Shit.

    * * *

    Have you ever tried screaming for more than a few seconds at one time?

    My lungs were tired. My vocal chords ached. My jaw felt ready to unhinge. My head pulsed with pain.

    And we were still falling.

    Falling through the darkness, away from the shattered arch of light and the room that had marked my abrupt entrance into the world of Thorr¡¯un. A stone wall raced past us on one side, the only thing I could see through the long, whipping hair that obscured my vision.

    The woman clung tightly to me, her body on top of mine more by default than by any desire of mine to protect her from the fall. If I¡¯d thought of it, I probably would have tried to get her underneath me. In more ways than one. As it was, though, I was almost grateful I couldn¡¯t see where we were going. It meant that I had no sense of anticipation as¡ª

    Crunch.

    Our tangled bodies smashed into something, my bones letting out a wonderfulcrackbefore we bounced off wildly. I saw a snarling stone gargoyle as we spun away into the gloom. I screamed again, my voice rough, and then we were flipping over and over and I had no idea how long we were falling or why in the world the ground didn¡¯t rush up to break my neck.

    I couldn¡¯t hear if the woman was screaming, too. I couldn¡¯t hear much outside the bubble of my own terror.

    I knew I was about to die.

    And then something caught us, our limbs tangled and our bodies wound together in all sorts of ways that would probably have been interesting if I hadn¡¯t been terrified out of my mind. The something that caught us was hard, rough, sticky and elastic. A net of some sort, it felt like. It folded away beneath us and then bounced back into place.

    The net had a grip on me though. On my clothes, on the skin of my back, tearing at it as my body tried to bounce free. I stopped yelling my head off from sheer surprise.

    Not dead.

    I lay on my back for a moment. My body was in agony. My mind was in ecstasy. I coughed, tasted blood.

    Not dead.

    Far above, in the gloom, my eyes could somehow make out part of the silhouette of the massive structure we¡¯d just escaped. The woman groaned as she tried to move, dark fingers flexing against my chest and struggling to push her body up. I could feel her lithe thigh between my legs. I wanted to curl up and vomit again from the pain as my shoulder and back and wounded side all cringed and begged for mercy at once.

    But pain was okay. Pain had a meaning.

    Not dead,I thought again. And then my mind made the next leap of logic.Alive.My eyes twitched left and right, searching the gloom, and I slowly took in our surroundings.

    We had gotten lucky, my strange companion and I. As my eyes adjusted to the pitch black ¡ª which should have been impossible, in and of itself ¡ª I realized that the open air above us was actually bounded by two ragged, stone ledges. We had fallen into a crevasse, our impact against the gargoyle deflecting us off a collision course with the implacable stone floor. The edges of the huge crack in the stone were some forty or fifty feet above and maybe half as far apart from each other, a slit in the underbelly of the earth that was both surprising and fortunate.

    The woman was struggling still, pushing at my chest and muttering in a harsh language. She was just a shape in the gloom, and when I turned my eyes on her I realized that my vision was no longer in color. Everything was greyscale. I could see her full lips moving, watched her pretty face growing more and more desperate as she tried to pull away from me. I waited for the words to click, to clarify in my mind, but they didn¡¯t.

    I turned, trying to raise my head, to see what had trapped her. That was when I remembered that my back, arms and hair were stuck. I felt my skin beginning to tear from my shoulder blades, so I gave in to the pain, settling back down into the net.

    What the hell?I wondered.Whatisthis?That was when my survival sense prickled. And, of course, that was when I heard the scuttling.

    It sounded like an old typewriter, dozens of tiny keysclick-click-clickingdown. Over and over. But sinister. Like a serial killer breathing on the other end of a quiet phone line. Or that one freaky as fuck clown who lives in the sewer like a goddam psycho.

    My primal brain realized what was going on before the rest of me, and my heartrate shot through the roof. The rest of my brain was slower, but as I glanced left and right at the walls around us, and at the thick, sticky strands of rope beneath us, the only logical explanation clicked into place.

    No¡­

    We were in the middle of a giant web.

    Fuck me¡­

    And who but the web''s owner was crawling along the wall, a dozen feet away.

    Imagine a big spider. Like, really big. Fucking monstrously large. And then imagine that it¡¯s even bigger ¡ª the size of a small car, in fact ¡ª with gigantic hairy legs and a dozen beady eyes that shine with the kind of glee that Satan reserves for his favorite tortured souls.

    Okay, maybe there was no glee.

    It was hard to tell in the dark.

    But when the thing clambered down carefully, its thick legs plucking at the strands of the web, and bared its giant fangs ¡ª as long as my hand, at least ¡ª I swear it was grinning right at me.

    I wanted to scream, to yell, but all that came bubbling out of my battered body was a low whimper. I wanted to struggle, but my body was smashed and pulped and bleeding and stuck. I managed a brief twitch. So much for Hero Mode.

    My companion stilled as she followed my gaze. I¡¯m not sure how wellshecould see in the dark, but I feel like the gigantic arachnid was tough to miss. I had to hand it to her, instead of my wimpy response she just hissed defiantly at the thing, baring her teeth.

    Would it be inappropriate for me to say it was kind of hot? You know, in a barbaric, primitive sort of way. Yeah, probably the wrong time for that.

    The spider leaped, springing from the wall with the kind of agility that reminded me of the old saying:When you¡¯re feeling down, just be grateful that spiders can¡¯t fly.

    This one didn¡¯t need to. It landed straddling us, its swollen abdomen dragging across my body. If I hadn¡¯t already heaved up all the contents of my stomach, the awful, prickling sensation of giant spider hairs brushing across my face would certainly have pushed me over the edge.

    It lunged suddenly, and there was a brief, strangled moan from my companion before her figure fell back limp, half across me.

    Ohgod ohgod ohgod¡­I thought, but I didn¡¯t know what god I was even praying to, or what I was praying for. I just wanted the pain and the terror to stop.

    Only it didn¡¯t.

    The creature scuttled around, repositioning itself before staring down into my face with those huge, dark, beady eyes.

    I couldn¡¯t move. I was too scared to even close my eyes, to look away.

    It lunged.

    As twin daggers of pain sank in just above my collarbone, pumping venom into my body, the only thing I could think was that I couldn¡¯t believe I¡¯d given up death by mutant for death by spider. My worst nightmare. My head dropped back, chest burning and lungs struggling for air. My sight dwindled until it was just a dozen, sparkling eyes and a face that no one, not even a mother, could love.

    I''d already died at least twice against my will. Now, I hoped it came for real.

    Pretty please.

 Chapter 07

    One thing you get really good at as a Survivor is assessing pain. How much can you tolerate? How much more can you handle?

    That¡¯s really the crux of it. How much more shit can you shovel onto your tired, aching body before it gives out? Associated skills like Pain-Oriented Decision-Making develop soon after:Would you rather take on some more pain or die a painful, grisly death?

    I should put that on my resume.

    Despite my dearest wishes, a painful, grisly death had obviously been denied me. I twisted my face in a frown.I guess that means it¡¯s time for more pain.I didn¡¯t want to open my eyes. I was tired. And my body hurt. But that¡¯s another thing Survivors pick up quick.

    The knowledge that denying reality doesn¡¯t make it go away.

    I swallowed. I opened my eyes.Perfect¡­

    My swaying body hung at the end of a long rope of white-grey spidersilk as thick around as my wrist. The rope ended somewhere between my shoulder blades, so I hung at an angle, canted slightly forward. The floor was at least fifteen feet below, beneath my dangling legs, which had been wrapped up tight in the same sticky cord. In fact, my entire body ¡ª ankles to shoulders ¡ª had been bound.

    I imagined the gigantic arachnid, silken rope pulsing out of its body, spinning me around and around as it mummified me.Yeah¡­ Glad I was unconscious for that.There was a red stain along the right side of my cocoon, but I imagined that the improvised bandage had stopped the bleeding.

    Having taken stock of myself, I craned my neck to look around.Yeah¡­I thought.Seems about right.

    If someone had forced me to interior decorate the lair of a giant, man-eating spider, I probably would have gone for this sort of aesthetic. No light sources, of course. Gloomy. Lots of draping cobwebs. I craned my neck to look around. All they were missing were a couple of throw pillows. You know, to really tie the place together.

    And hanging all around me, like pods from a terrifying death tree, were other white-wrapped figures. It was hard to make out details, even with my strangely-sharp, greyscale vision, but most seemed dwarf-sized, shorter than me and stockier. I could hardly tell from their features, however, because their exposed faces were little more than husks. Wisps of beard still clung to a few chins, sunken cheeks and eye sockets sucked into their skulls. Their skin was wrinkled, ashen and pale like the ones I¡¯d encountered, but with a waxy sheen. Each of these husks had two giant puncture marks in one side, angled up under their ribs, the kind of puncture marks that made my chest tingle and itch as I remembered my captor.

    I swallowed and felt my stomach twitch somewhere beneath the webbing.

    Only one other hanging figure seemed alive, and that was the one nearest me. From the body¡¯s height, I knew it wasn¡¯t one of the dwarves, and common sense ¡ª as well as the womanly curves that the silken wrap did nothing to hide ¡ª told me it was the woman I¡¯d saved.

    Or who had saved me.

    If I could have, I would have shrugged.Symbiotic saving,I thought. Though it looked like our escape had been short lived.

    Her head hung low, her chin to her rounded chest, with dark hair obscuring her face. I could hear her breath, shallow and quiet in the stillness. One pointed ear parted the cascading locks. It made me wonder what kind of race this woman was. Was she an elf, like me? Did elves have green skin, here? I didn¡¯t, but maybe there were other kinds? Where she was from? Did she have a family?

    I shook my head to escape the barrage of questions. Through the exhaustion and pain that squeezed my body in their dual vice grip, I had to think. I wasn¡¯t dead. And now that I was relatively less-exhausted, relatively less-terrified and in relatively less-agony, I fell back into old habits. Make fun of shit and try not to die. Make short term goals and then survive long enough to make longer term ones.

    Luckily or unluckily, I was used to exhaustion. I was used to pain. Back on Earth, it was always there. For survivors, it¡¯s a given. You¡¯re getting less sleep than you need. Muscles stretched to their limits, and then some. Rest days? A distant memory. Relaxation? Only if you want to die. The only novel experience here was waking up with my arms and legs pinned to my body with nothing to do but stare into the gloom and spin slightly as I tilted and tried to look around. It was like a dark bondage fantasy taken way too far. And that sort of50 Shadesfuckery was never really my style.

    Alright, Colin,I thought.What are your assets?

    It was like whatever twisted framework of reality governed this universe was listening, waiting for just the right time to jump-scare me. I choked and grunted with surprise as my vision was suddenly filled by another notification. This one, though, was long enough to drop off the bottom of my vision. It began to scroll, slowly, as I read.

    And, for the first time, the words were oddly recognizable.

    <hr>

    Jondalar ¡ª Level 2 Martial

    Traits

    Race: Half-Elf

    Height: 6¡¯2¡±

    Weight: 175 lbs

    Eye Color: Blue

    Hair Color: White

    Repute: 0

    <hr>

    Statistics

    HP: 25

    Stamina: 95%

    Mana: 15

    Movement Speed: Above Average

    Armor Class: +0 (Cloth Pants)

    Active Effects: Poisoned (Mild)

    <hr>

    Attributes

    Strength: 13

    Constitution: 13

    Dexterity: 13

    Intelligence: 10

    Wisdom: 10

    Charisma: 7

    Luck: 10

    <hr>

    Unassigned Attribute Points: 18

    <hr>

    Skills

    Combat > Strength > Polearms (Lvl. 5): You have moderate skill when it comes to wielding polearms. (This includes spears, quarterstaffs and improvised, pole-based weaponry.)

    Non-Combat > Wisdom > Tracking (Lvl. 5): You have moderate skill when it comes to finding things that don¡¯t want to be found, tracing things that don¡¯t want to be traced.

    <hr>

    Abilities

    Linguist: You have an ear for language and a gift for piecing together dialect. If you hear or read a language every day for three days, you will gain the ability to speak, read and write the language with conversational fluency. If you hear, read and speak a language every day for thirty days, you will gain the ability to speak, read and write the language with native fluency.

    Arcane Framework: You have a deep understanding of the nature of reality. Thus, you better know how to bend it. Provided you have enough Mana, you can cast spells that you don¡¯t know. You have a 25% chance for success with spells you¡¯ve never seen cast before, and a 50% chance of success with spells you¡¯ve seen cast before. On a success, a new spell is added to your Spells list. On a failure, there is an [unknown] chance that something unexpected will happen.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    <hr>

    Feats

    Incredible Focus: Once per day, you can slow time to ? speed for up to 3 seconds.

    <hr>

    Achievements

    Smoke ¡®Em If You¡¯ve Got ¡®Em: +100% Stamina regeneration speed. +100% HP regeneration speed.

    <hr>

    Blessings

    Fleet of Foot (Hermes): You cannot be outrun.

    Eldritch Hunter: You have a 100% bonus to your chance of making a critical strike against a creature that is outside of its native plane of existence.

    <hr>

    Marks

    Mark of the Survivor: Once per respawn, the first time you drop to 0 Hit Points you will instead regenerate 1 hit point.

    Mark of the Traveler (Hermes): You have a 50% bonus to experience points gained in areas that are strange to you.

    <hr>

    Relationships

    Hermes: Liked

    ????: Hated

    ????: Uncertain

    <hr>

    Languages

    Elvish

    Common (Southern)

    Dwarvish

    <hr>

    Spells

    None

    <hr>

    I sniffed as the notification stopped scrolling and didn¡¯t disappear.

    I read it again, trying to digest the fact that I had a¡­A what? A character sheet?

    Then, I sighed. ¡°You have to remember what this place is. It¡¯s a game, Colin.¡± My voice was low, similar to my own but not quite the same. There was a richness to it, a depth and a rhythm that felt alien. But even more alien than my voice was my name. It felt strange on my tongue, like it didn¡¯t belong to me. I frowned, then murmured, ¡°Jondalar¡­¡±

    The word, which should have been alien, clicked in the back of my mind: normal and familiar, like I¡¯d been responding to it all my life. I swallowed as reality punched me in the face. Thiswasme, now.

    A new world. A new life. A new name. And I would have to adapt to it. To survive.

    ¡°Alright,¡± I muttered, and my mind began to race. I had no idea when the spider would be back, but when it returned I needed to be ready.

    First things first, I read my sheet again, section by section.Traitsseemed relatively straightforward: height, weight, race¡­ I frowned as I reread ¡®Half-Elf.¡¯ Then I shook my head as I realized what had happened. I suppose Ihadtold Hermes ¡®elf-adjacent.¡¯ I also paused on my hair color.White? Really?I wanted to growl at the god, but instead I shook my head and pushed it from my mind.

    Ididtell him to make me stupidly good-looking,I thought.Maybe white hair is all the rage these days.But if I got to a mirror and found out that I was just some wrinkly old man with long white hair¡­ I was going to be pissed.

    Statisticswas the next block, and it also seemed fairly direct. I assumedHPstood for Hit Points, and as weird as it was to imagine that Ihadhit points it also jived with the whole ¡®gamified world¡¯ mood. My only problem as I read through my stats was the fact that I had no frame of reference. Was 25 hit points high? Was it low? Was it even my maximum? I almost wished it was a percentage, like my Stamina, but at the same time I had no idea what Stamina represented. Was it how good I was at cardio?

    I growled, frustrated, and pushed the questions aside. Right now I needed to find assets, not distracting quandaries. I kept reading.

    Mana¡­That was magic, wasn¡¯t it?Only¡­

    With a flick of my eyes, I managed to direct my view back down to the bottom of my sheet. I felt a slight jump of pride in my chest, like I was starting to get the hang of this. The excitement dulled, though, as my memory was confirmed. ¡°No spells,¡± I muttered. ¡°Figures.¡±

    I moved on.

    Armor Class and Active Effects I ignored, since there was nothing I could do about them currently. Then, I was at the first block where I felt like I might have some control, and I felt a growing excitement in the pit of my stomach.

    Attributes¡­I thought, and read through them again. It looked like 10 was the baseline, and the changes that the god Hermeshad promised had been applied. I scowled when I saw Charisma 7, but I shook my head.

    ¡°It¡¯s a fair trade off for all those other bonuses,¡± I muttered.

    Once again, though, I¡¯d been thrown in the deep end. I had no idea what an Attribute level 10 actually meant. Was it good? Bad? Average? I tried to recall any roleplaying or videogames I¡¯d played where you customized your character¡¯s statistics, but nothing came to mind.

    Kyle had been the gamer. Not me. I grunted, shoving away the guilt that clawed at my gut.

    Cut the crap, Jondalar.I grimaced, the new name still jarring my thoughts but slotting into place in my mind.That fucking spider could be back any minute, and you¡¯ll be here debating obscure game mechanics. That¡¯s not how you get out of this.

    My inner Survivor was right. I was spinning out, overwhelmed. I had to be fast, and I had to be decisive.

    I went with the assumption that 10 was an average level in any given attribute. If that was the case, then I wanted to be asabove averageas possible in all traits relevant to keeping me alive. I felt like I had a lot of points to spend, but I remembered the notification I¡¯d received during my chaotic arrival.

    Only 4 Attribute Points for reaching Level 2,I thought.Which means that I¡¯ve got to be careful how I spend this first chunk, since it will only be minor adjustments from here.I still wasn¡¯t sure how I¡¯dgottento Level 2, nor was I sure what Level 2 meant, but at this point meaning was irrelevant.

    Whatwasrelevant were the seven attributes and the 18 points I was about to spend improving them.

    ¡°What to choose? What to choose?¡± I muttered.So many choices¡­ Too many choices.

    But my inner Survivor clamped down.Enough bullshitting,he ordered.Strength is good. Strength means you hit things harder. Dexterity is good. Probably means you can dodge things better. Luck is good. It probably means that bad shit is less likely to happen. And so far your luck has been pretty much the worst.

    Before I could really think about it, a notification popped up. It was small, but half-covered the character sheet that filled my vision.

    <hr>

    You have allocated 4 Attribute Points to Strength. You have 14 Attribute Points remaining.

    Are you sure you¡¯d like to proceed?

    Yes/No

    <hr>

    ¡°Um¡­ Yes?¡± My voice was uncertain, but the notification blinked away and I saw that myAttributesblock had updated.

    I nodded.Okay.I could do this.

    <hr>

    You have allocated 4 Attribute Points to Dexterity. You have 10 Attribute Points Remaining.

    Are you sure you¡¯d like to proceed?

    Yes/No

    <hr>

    ¡°Yes,¡± I muttered.

    It flashed away, but was followed by another.

    <hr>

    You have allocated 4 Attribute Points to Luck. You have 6 Attribute Points Remaining.

    Are you sure you¡¯d like to proceed?

    Yes/No

    <hr>

    Yes, yes¡­I thought, but before I could open my mouth to agree the notification disappeared.

    Oh¡­I guess that made sense. I wondered if that meant I could control all the notifications with just my thoughts.That would have been nice to know.

    I scowled as I considered my remaining 6 points.

    My inner Survivor piped up.Let¡¯s be honest,it told me bluntly.You¡¯re here because you fucked up. You weren¡¯t fast enough, and that mutant sliced you up good.

    I grimaced, chewing my lip. He was right.

    <hr>

    You have allocated 3 Attribute Points to Dexterity. You have 3 Attribute Points Remaining.

    Are you sure you¡¯d like to proceed?

    Yes/No

    <hr>

    I have a thing for round, even numbers, so bringing my Dexterity up to a 20 was oddly satisfying. But what to do with the remaining 3?

    My eyes strayed down the list, but Survivor stopped me.Don¡¯t evenlookat Charisma, man. It sucks to have an Attribute so low, but right now you¡¯vegotto devote all your energy to getting out of this alive.

    I wanted to whine and complain. I hadn¡¯t even thought about social or interpersonal skills for more than a year, but for some reason seeing aliteralstatistic that declared my inadequacy rankled me. But I knew that my instincts were right.

    I blew out a breath.Alright, then,I thought.

    <hr>

    You have allocated 3 Attribute Points to Luck. You have 0 Attribute Points Remaining.

    Are you sure you¡¯d like to proceed?

    Yes/No

    <hr>

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I muttered.

    I had no idea what ¡®Luck¡¯ meant as a real life character trait, but it seemed like it could be extremely useful. And more applicable to survival than even Strength or Dexterity. Not all problems can be solved by hitting them or dodging around them.

    I surveyed my newAttributesblock.

    <hr>

    Attributes

    Strength: 17

    Constitution: 13

    Dexterity: 20

    Intelligence: 10

    Wisdom: 10

    Charisma: 7

    Luck: 17

    <hr>

    Unassigned Attribute Points: 0

    <hr>

    I nodded to myself and was about to scroll down when I froze.

    My ears flicked and I shivered at the strange sensation. But they had caught something, a sound. It was an echo, a strangejingle-jangle-swish. Coming nearer and nearer. Metal scraping along rock, and the sound of pounding footsteps.

    I hesitated, then tried to use my thoughts to stow my character sheet. My vision instantly cleared.

    The sound grew closer.

    My eyes searched the ground level, looking for the origin of the noise. As my gaze pierced the shadows, skimming over tangles of fallen web and frighteningly empty cocoons, I saw a round, gaping hole. It looked like the opening to a huge, rough-edged sewer pipe that emerged several feet above the uneven floor.

    Then, springing athletically from the mouth of the tunnel was a squat, broad figure. It wore a ragged cloak, but as the dark fabric spun about its body I caught a glimpse of glinting silver and the shape of a big, heavysomethingheld in both hands. The jingling I¡¯d heard was from the chainmail tunic that swayed down to the figure¡¯s knees.

    I hesitated only an instant. The figure was obviously one of the pale-skinned dwarves. But while my experience with these dwarves was overwhelmingly negative, what other choice did I have? Did I want to hang around here until the gigantic spider came back and sucked my insides out through my ribcage?

    I groaned inwardly at my unintentionalhang aroundpun, retched at the unwelcome image then opened my mouth to shout for help. Maybe my luck ¡ªor Luck¡ª was already changing?

    Then, with the horrifyingclick-click-clickof Satan¡¯s typewriter, a gigantic, hairy, eight-legged monstrosity unfolded itself from the tunnel entrance launched itself at the dwarf.

    Or maybe not.

 Chapter 08

    Two stories below, the dwarf shouted. No words, just a primal yell. The sound echoed through the hollow chamber, up among the swaying husks of his long-dead kindred. He swung his arms, and the massive arachnid was deflected, skittering off in a different direction. Its legs flailed and it caught itself against the wall.

    Dark blood spattered the rough stone.

    The creature reared back and hissed, fangs bared and front legs clawing at the air. It was the kind of terrifying sound that you never wanted to know spiders were capable of making.

    The dwarf stumbled back, hood falling from his head. His broad, double-sided axe was dripping blood. The weapon was almost as tall as he was.

    I struggled uselessly, the spider silk ropes tight, sticky and hard as iron around my body. I had barely an inch to maneuver, my muscles tense and straining and doing absolutely nothing. Still, I wrenched at my bonds, feeling raw muscular might pouring through me. My Strength, in fact. My muscles were hard and bulging, and I knew I was stronger than I¡¯d ever been. It was strange, such an abrupt transition. Like in the past few moments I¡¯d suddenly packed on enough muscle to account for several months of daily gym visits.

    But no matter how hard I pushed, the silk bounced back.

    In fact, it sprang back tighter than before.

    ¡°Shit!¡±I cursed softly. I glanced around wildly, eyes wide.

    To my left, four or five feet away, the curvy figure of my fellow prisoner. She was stirring, head lolling, muttering softly. All around us, the hanging dead. Their sightless eyes and sunken mouths gaped out into the dark with empty horror.

    I¡¯msonot down for that.

    Abruptly, something flitted across my vision.

    I narrowed my eyes.

    There it was again!

    A shape fluttered between the suspended corpses, dodging this way and that in the deep shadows, weaving among the spider¡¯s larder. I heard a shout echo up out of the murk, the chitteringhissof a massive, enraged arachnid. I set my jaw and ignored them.

    I squinted. Concentrating, I heard theswishof gliding wings.

    The fast-moving creature was coming closer, too swift for me to identify. It was small, agile, wings flapping now to keep it aloft as it dodged left and right. If we were playing 20 Questions, the shape would be somewhere between the size of a toaster and a breadbox. Not that anyone has any idea how big a goddam breadbox is.

    This was the last thing I needed. A giant mosquito to go along with the giant goddam spider. But then the creature shot into free air and spread its wings, buffeting the air and coming to a halt. It landed awkwardly, hooking its small, curved claws into the chest wrappings of a nearby corpse.

    The cocoon swayed under its weight and the thing squawked, fluttering and securing its hold.

    It was feathered and furry. Its tufted ears swiveled my way as it turned its head like an owl and affixed me with a pair of big, black, beady eyes. Its short beak opened and it let out a softcoo.

    Hungry?Curious?I wondered, trying to identify the animal. Not another bug, thank god.What the hell do you want?

    I focused, trying to match the strange creature to anything I knew from back home. It was impossible to classify. However, I was rewarded with a small text box that blinked into existence above its head.

    <hr>

    Microgriffon

    Level 0 Animal Companion

    <hr>

    I blinked.

    Animal Companion,I thought.No¡­ There¡¯s no way¡­

    ¡°Webster?¡±My hushed voice was shocked.

    But the creature simplychirpedin response. It eyed me calmly.

    My mind raced.Could it really be¡­?

    ¡°Webster,¡± I hissed. ¡°If you really are some sort of¡­ helper creature, now¡­¡± I hesitated. ¡°How about a little help with these?¡± I jerked my chin down at my bonds. That beak looked sharp enough to do some cutting.

    Cheep.The microgriffon blinked at me, ruffling its long tail feathers.

    Shit¡­I thought.Useless.Maybe I was wrong.

    A screech split the air and my gaze twitched down below. I craned my neck. The huge spider was forcing its smaller opponent back, menacing with its massive, swinging forelimbs. The dwarf was obviously holding his own. His axe sliced heavily back and forth through the air, flinging blood with every swing. But even my amateur eyes could see he was tiring.

    ¡°Ooph!¡±I grunted as something barreled into my chest, then winced as tiny pinpricks of pain pierced my skin.

    There was suddenly a furry, beaked face close to mine. The microgriffoncooedloudly, its beak opening and closing right in front of my nose. This near, I could tell that it was actually far sharper than I¡¯d realized. Sharp enough to peck out my eyes, easily. Or even slice into my bare, vulnerable throat.

    The small animal hung off my bonds, four clawed feet hooked into them and stabbing my naked chest beneath.

    ¡°Come on¡­¡± I muttered anxiously. I stared into its eyes, seeking a hint of¡­ Intelligence? Loyalty? I didn¡¯t know.

    The microgriffon stared back. Then, abruptly, it ducked its head. I felt a tugging at my collarbone, a softsnip-clicksound of the creature¡¯s beak going to work on my thick bonds.

    I felt a rush of relief.It understood!¡°Yes, Webster¡­¡±I muttered.¡°Yes!¡±This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    But I didn¡¯t know if my small, winged ally was going to be fast enough.

    I looked down, saw that the dwarf had been backed into a corner. I could hear his mighty grunts in the still, cold air with every swing. The spider was waiting just out of reach, several of its front legs hemming in the dwarf and the rest coiled underneath it. Ready to pounce.

    They were almost directly below us, now.

    Snip-click. Snip-click.

    With all my strength I flexed my shoulders and arms, trying desperately to break free of the weakened ropes. Nothing. But for the first time, I felt some give in the sticky silken strands.

    Snip-click.Webster the microgriffon adjusted its grip, wings fluttering and blocking my vision for a moment as it clambered down my torso, slashing at the cocoon.

    Another strain. I knew the veins were bulging out of my neck. It felt like my chest was going to burst. It wasn¡¯t that I was desperate to help the dwarf. Nor, unfortunately, did I think I could do much for the half-awakened woman swinging nearby. I just needed to get free so I could make a run for it. And if the dwarf went down before I could escape, I didn¡¯t have a distraction.

    Sssnap.

    It was a sensation, more than a sound. The sudden freeing of my upper body as the weakened ropes parted under a brutal surge of primal strength. My pumped-up shoulders were shrugging free and Webster squawked indignantly as my entire cocoon swayed wildly.

    I hissed as the animal¡¯s claws dug deeper into my flesh. But I didn¡¯t care. My hands were free, ripping and tearing the ropes away from my torso. I wasn¡¯t stunned, now. Hadn¡¯t just fallen hundreds of feet through the darkness. Wasn¡¯t begging to die. The sticky silk that had defeated me in the spider¡¯s web had been stronger than this, certainly.

    Or maybe I was just stronger, now. I wondered when my shoulder and back had healed, because my bunching, powerful muscles felt no pain as I tore at the cocoon. My hands were nimble and lean, and on one of my fingers I saw the dull shape of a ring. It was dark, almost black against my skin, a twisted band of iron loops pounded and wound, into and around one another.

    Snip-click.Webster resumed.

    I didn¡¯t wear a ring, but it tugged at my memory.Wait¡­

    Before I could think about it, I was tugging the band from my finger. My heartbeat thundered in anticipation. My fingers were abruptly empty. Then, in my fist, the heavy black shaft of a six-foot war spear.

    Thorn.

    The name resonated in my mind and I grinned. It was a brilliant, brittle, battle grin. I knew where I¡¯d felt this sensation before on my lips. On the hunt. My eyes twitched down below, past the scrambling microgriffon who sliced at the rope around my midsection. I could see the panting warrior, bald head sheened with sweat in my colorless vision. I could see the bristling, wounded monster, hissing its terrifying scream as venom dripped from dagger fangs. And, of course ¡ª because why would anything in my life ever be easy? ¡ª I could also see the second massive spider that crawled quietly down the wall behind the oblivious fighter.

    Crap.

    ¡°Behind!¡±I bellowed without thinking.

    The dwarf spun, eyes snapping up, seeking through the gloom.

    The spider before him twitched, scuttling forward.

    Snip-click.

    And, in that instant, the strands of silk around my legs parted. With a yell that was part surprise, part fear and part devil-may-care, demoniacal war cry, my body fell forward, tearing free of my bonds.

    I dropped headfirst toward the melee below.

    My vision narrowed to a single point. This was insane. The grip of my spear was hard in my clenched fist. I fell like an out-of-control Olympic diver, my body twisting and trailing shredded silk behind. I had no time. Breath flowed in through my nose. I braced for impact.

    Only then, time slowed¡­

    I was suddenly extremely conscious of it, the echo of my yell bouncing off the stone and slowly filtering into my ears. The vehicle-sized arachnid rearing back to pounce. The flanked dwarf¡¯s eyes widening as they flicked from the spider on the wall towards my plummeting figure.

    <hr>

    Congratulations! You have activated your first feat. You¡¯ve chosen the feat:Incredible Focus.

    You have 3 seconds at ? speed.

    Use them wisely.

    12¡­

    11¡­

    <hr>

    A tiny, ornate counter appeared in an upper corner of my vision, ticking down.

    10¡­

    My feet, I realized, were still wrapped together. My cocoon had simply split, my weight too much for the weakened strands. My back stung where I¡¯d ripped free from the sticky rope.

    9¡­

    I realized I felt as comfortable upside down as right-way up, but it was less than optimal for landing. Instinctively, I arched my back and my body flipped forward. Gravity dragged me down as slowly as a fly through amber but my movements were free and easy. In my hand, I felt the spear Thorn begin to spin.

    8¡­

    I gripped the haft in both hands, the glittering, foot-long spearhead angled downward.

    7¡­

    I braced for impact.

    6¡­

    And then time lurched and sped up, as though some part of me I wasn¡¯t even aware of had flipped a switch. I spun head over heels in a perfect somersault and landed, my silk-entwined boots smashing down on top of the eight-legged horror with a satisfyingcrunch. The heavy war spear slid down through the creature¡¯s swollen abdomen with asnick, my weight and the momentum of my fall all concentrated in a single, razor-sharp point.

    The huge spider screamed, a sound louder and more terrifying than I ever could have imagined. It spasmed as my weight smashed its surprised body down into the stone floor. I heard thesnapof shattering chitin armor. Behind me, a guttural roar and another hissing spider cry. Which I ignored. I¡¯d just have to trust my momentary ally to take care of business.

    The spear wrenched free, a fountain of dark blood and gore spraying in its wake. Under my feet, I felt the monster try to rise. Its many legs skittered and shoved at the floor. It was trying to buck me off, to push itself back up.

    But it had no defenses here. I was in the many-eyed creature¡¯s weak spot.

    I shifted my weight and thrust again, driving straight down, the broad, flat blade slicing between my feet. In one movement, I cut through the final cords that bound me from calf-to ankle and pinned the monstrous arachnid to the floor by its thorax. It jolted once more, legs spasming on the stone floor, but six feet of steel and iron through the brain put it down.

    I spun, wrenching my spear free. A notification tried to flare across my vision but I dashed it away with a silent swipe of my thoughts.Not this time.

    The dwarf was hard pressed. His shoulders heaved with exertion but the huge axe whirled dangerously at the creature poised above him. His massive, predatory opponent clung to the wall with several of its legs and probed with the others. Its twin, dagger-lengthed teeth were bared, dangerous.

    I¡¯d forgotten, somehow, how huge the spiders looked from below. My body wanted to freeze up, curl up, shy away.

    No.It was my inner Survivor. Don¡¯t freeze. Run. My eyes flicked to the gaping tunnel mouth, where the dwarf had first emerged.

    No. Another thought. I remembered, now. It was the decision I¡¯d made when I¡¯d decided to stop that bastard dwarf from raping the green-skinned girl. Don¡¯t run. I¡¯d been a coward before. I¡¯d given up on the people that mattered most. Not just once, but over and over. Not again. Fight.

    Dancing forward, boot heel grinding across the dull eyes of my downed foe, I lunged. The broad spearhead lanced over the dwarf¡¯s shoulder and took the monster right under its hooked fang. The blade didn¡¯t sink deep, but the unexpected strike made the spider rear back, scrambling. The dwarf¡¯s axe smashed into an anchored leg.

    The monster scrambled, lost its grip on the wall. It fell forward, hairy bulk twisting around my spear and landing on one flailing set of limbs. Another thrust, this one desperate, instinctive, trying to keep its awful, reaching legs away from me. The creature toppled onto its back.

    A glittering sweep of steel across my vision.

    The huge axe split the spider¡¯s abdomen wide open in a spray of dark blood and slimy innards. I felt a speckle of liquid across my face. A finalhissand the creature¡¯s legs curled up against its body. One stuck out at an odd angle, smashed sideways. One was missing, stump trickling blood.

    The dwarf and I stared at each other across the body of our downed enemy. Chests heaving, eyes wide, bodies tense. I didn¡¯t want to breathe, didn¡¯t want to make a sound. If I made a sound, I might start something.

    And if something started, I would have to kill him.

 Chapter 09

    The dwarf huffed sweat off his bearded upper lip, blinking swiftly. Perspiration beaded on his heavy, black eyebrows.

    It was cold down here, and I could feel the chill against the skin of my bare torso. But I was sweating too. It was, as they say, a cold sweat. The kind of sweat you have when you might be in giant trouble. Or dwarf trouble.

    A line of ice trickled down my back.

    The fighter across from me shifted his grip, fingers adjusting on the thick handle of his axe. My senses were heightened, and I heard a soft droplet of something smack into the floor. Maybe sweat. Maybe spider blood pooling on the tip of my heavy spear and gently falling to the uneven stone.

    In the corner of my vision, I watched the final death twitch of the spider the dwarf had just bisected. The creature looked shriveled and small with all its long, knobby limbs curled into its ruined body.

    I sensed the tension ease before the dwarf stepped back, shifting his axe to his off hand.

    ¡°Elf,¡± he grumbled. It sounded like an insult, but maybe that was just how he talked.

    ¡°Dwarf,¡± I answered, lifting the point of my spear. I rested the base of the weapon on the ground.

    His dark eyes narrowed. ¡°Duergar,¡± he corrected. There was that word again. I¡¯d never heard it pronounced before, but it somehow fit the ashen-skinned humanoid. It was two harsh, low syllables, like a pair of massive stones grinding together in a rockslide.

    ¡°Half,¡± I responded, mirroring his step back.

    The duergar blinked again, then seemed to come to a decision. He straightened, and I only now recognized that he¡¯d been in a combat crouch. ¡°You won¡¯t be coming after me with your spear if I put this away?¡± He gestured with the massive axe.

    ¡°I¡¯d prefer not to.¡±

    He nodded, slowly, then glanced down and slid the handle into a sheathe at his hip. Blood dripped from the pointed end of each huge, sweeping semicircle, but he seemed not to notice as the dark ichor stained his chainmail tunic and dripped from the swaying, metal hem.

    He jerked his chin at me. ¡°What¡¯re you doing down so deep, halander?¡±

    It took me a second to decipher his accent, and then I wondered what on earth a highlander was. I shrugged. ¡°Wanted a change of scenery. You?¡±

    The dwarf ¡ª I still couldn¡¯t wrap my head around what a duergar might be, since he looked just like one of Tolkien¡¯s dwarves ¡ª coughed huskily several times, and it took me a moment to realize he was chuckling. Then, instead of answering, he jerked his chin up above.

    ¡°And the bat? That¡¯s with you?¡±

    I glanced up to where Webster was flitting among the quiet, hanging corpses. In the gloom up above, I could see how the microgriffon might look like a large, fluttering bat. Instead of correcting the warrior, I nodded.

    ¡°The girl, too,¡± I added, suddenly remembering my stranded companion.

    Ignoring the dwarf for a moment, I whistled, trying to get Webster¡¯s attention. Hearing the sound, the creature swerved around a husk and plummeted toward us. At the last second, the microgriffon flared out its wings, catching the air and slowing with several heavy wingbeats.

    ¡°Show off,¡± I muttered as Webster alighted daintily on one of the crooked legs of the dead monster. The small creature chirped excitedly and puffed out its chest, sitting up like a cat as a long, tufted tail curled around its paws.

    ¡°Huh,¡± the dwarf grunted behind me. ¡°Not a bat.¡±

    ¡°Not a bat,¡± I agreed. And then I fell to thinking. I clenched my jaw, tapping the butt of my spear on the floor. Clink clink clink.

    The crux of the matter was the girl. I could leave her. I probably should leave her. And if I did, Survivor Colin would be satisfied, if not happy. But there was also Jondalar to consider. Hero Jondalar. The stupid fool who had tried to save her in the first place, who had dashed in to help the dwarf ¡ª duergar ¡ª even after dealing with his own, immediate, arachnid threat.

    I scowled. And if I left her¡­ why did I have a sneaking suspicion that Webster would be disappointed in me, too? I narrowed my eyes and gave the microgriffon a suspicious look.

    It stared back, blinking innocently several times. It was a staring contest I couldn¡¯t win, because deep down I already knew what I was going to do. I¡¯d made my decision already, in the heat of combat. The time to run away had passed.

    I turned back to the warrior. ¡°I¡¯m going to need your help,¡± I demanded.

    The duergar¡¯s heavy brows came together. Fingers with geometric knuckle tattoos scratched at his bushy cheek. ¡°What with?¡±

    I jerked my head upwards. ¡°Getting Sleeping Beauty down without a ladder.¡±

    The warrior grimaced, glanced around with his mouth in a grim line, then nodded.

    I¡¯m sure he was wondering who the hell Sleeping Beauty might be.

    * * *

    The operation was a delicate, but I was glad for the duergar¡¯s impressive physique. If I failed, I wanted to make sure I had backup. The fact that the stocky warrior was a head and a half shorter than me was actually perfect.

    Webster had seemed enthused about the idea. At least, as far as I could tell. Who knew what was really going on in the mind of a cleaner bot who had just been transported through time, space and plausibility to inhabit the body of a foot-and-a-half-long miniature bird-lion? Maybe behind those wide, innocent eyes were the dark thoughts of a future serial murderer. Maybe he still hadn¡¯t forgiven me for forcing us to leave my kitchen floor covered in crumbs.

    But, nonetheless, after I explained my plan the microgriffon had chirped helpfully and flapped up into the still shadows above. He dove between several hanging corpses and alighted with surprising grace on the shoulders of the now-stirring woman. I heard her gentle sighs of breath and soft, drugged murmurs drifting down through the intervening space.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    I¡¯d gendered Webster as a male for my own mental clarity ¡ª sidestepping the question of where robots fell on the new age gender spectrum ¡ª and I wondered if my little friend did a quick cleavage check down the front of her cocoon before he went to work. I¡¯ll bet he did, the lecherous little bot. But he soldiered on, despite the tantalizing distraction, sharp beak snip-clicking away at the single strand that disappeared into the heavy shadows above where even my strange, monochromatic night vision couldn¡¯t pierce.

    Now that I was on the floor level looking up, I could see that the natural cavern was larger than it might have seemed. It was effectively circular, as I¡¯d noticed, with rough walls that seemed to climb straight up as far as I could see. Layer after layer of cocoons and corpses hung like sinister, one-string puppets. They canted forward just forward enough that it was as if they were all leaning in, waiting. Watching.

    I swallowed and ignored the prickling down my spine. What could possibly be watching? I wanted to ask. It¡¯s not like there are more of these fucking spiders. Right¡­? Do spiders live in packs in this godforsaken place?

    My eyes slid sideways at the duergar, who was watching Webster with a look of tense concentration on his face. ¡°There aren¡¯t¡­¡± His eyes glittered darkly as he glanced over, and I hesitated for a moment. But my desire for knowledge was stronger than my desire to remain aloof and enigmatic. ¡°There aren¡¯t any more of those things, right?¡±

    I jerked my chin toward the crumpled bodies of the hairy, blood-soaked monsters.

    That low, grunting chuckle again. ¡°You are being serious?¡±

    I swallowed, then cleared my throat. ¡°I suppose I was just hoping¡­¡± I trailed off and glanced back up.

    The chuckle went dry. ¡°Aye, elf. Don¡¯t we all. But hoping might be a wise hobby to lay aside. There are more of her brood at every turn, down here in the deep tunnels.¡±

    Of course he¡¯d say something like that. Isn¡¯t that just like a dwarf? Always raining on my parade. I wanted to scowl, even though I knew my thoughts and hopes were absurd, but instead I sniffed several times and shook my head. What did you expect from this place? I asked myself harshly. A sunshiny rainbow kingdom full of¡­ waifus and Mountain Dew? A neckbeard paradise?

    Waifu was a term that Kyle had introduced me to. Neckbeard, too. That was a strange one. I scowled, ignored the tugging guilt in my gut, grunted in response to the dwarf. Duergar. Then, I sucked in a breath as, with a squawk, Webster finished his task.

    There was an audible sssnap as the silken strand stretched and then broke. And then the woman plummeted.

    Too late, I hoped that I was strong enough to catch her.

    White cord trailing like a mummy¡¯s parachute, the dark-skinned maiden fell directly toward me. I held out my arms in a vague basket shape, like I was going to carry a wife across a threshold. A wife¡­ Another stab of pain in my gut. Another thought shunted aside before it could take root.

    The woman slammed into me like a sack of falling bricks. I grunted, stumbled, smashed down on one knee and grunted out a curse. But Strength 17 was apparently a worthwhile investment. My arms bunched, elbows and wrists straining, and then the worst of it was over.

    I lowered the woman to the ground, trying to find a patch of stone that was mostly not pooling with blood.

    Note to self: find a way to kill evil fucking death spiders with less gore? I contemplated the note, then crumpled it up and tossed it away. Nah.

    I tried to lower the semiconscious woman without groping her. But if my hand strayed across one round, taut hemisphere of her ass as I gently set her down, was that really my fault?

    Of course not. Besides, I was a hero. I felt like that gave me a little bit of leeway.

    I swallowed down the second hiss of pain that tried to bubble up from my bruised knees as I shifted my weight and slipped my hands out from beneath her body. I contemplated the woman for a few seconds, running my eyes down her body. I was checking the spider silk cocoon and definitely not checking her out.

    I glanced over at the duergar, who had helpfully stayed stock still and watched impassively. I¡¯d hoped he¡¯d be there to help in case the woman was too heavy or I missed my catch. Guess not. ¡°You have a knife?¡± I asked. My spear lay on the ground next to me, but I didn¡¯t feel particularly comfortable using such a big, unwieldy weapon for a delicate task.

    The stocky fighter grunted, then reached under his cloak. There was a gentle shiing and a long, glittering blade appeared in his thick-fingered fist. Instead of offering it to me, he stumped forward and knelt on her other side.

    ¡°We need to cut away the cocoon,¡± I said.

    The duergar nodded, not looking up at me.

    I leaned in, brushing dark hair back from the woman¡¯s face. She looked surprisingly peaceful, her slim features only slightly troubled as her eyes flicked back and forth rapidly behind closed lids. Even in sleep, the woman was pretty as hell. I could tell she had large eyes, and I was getting more and more into the whole pointed-ears thing. Even the short, sharp-looking lower canines that I could see poking against her upper lip were kind of cute. She looked younger than I¡¯d expected, but what did I know about strange fantasy women?

    I wondered why the spider¡¯s poison was affecting her so much more powerfully than it had me. Did I have some sort of natural resistance? Was it a bodyweight-ratio thing? Did it have something to do with¡­ my mind spun back through the dozens of impressions that jostled for space in my short-term memory¡­ that health regeneration boost I¡¯d been granted by a literal god?

    I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that it was only by instinct I moved in time.

    The duergar grunted in shock as I uncovered the woman¡¯s face, and his short, brawny arm shot forward almost at the same moment. The long knife was bare inches from punching up through her ribs when my hand shot out across her body.

    The blade halted, quivering, as my fingers wrapped around the duergar¡¯s thick wrist and my face twisted in shock and horror. Maybe I¡¯m callous. And maybe I would have left her for dead. But I¡¯m not about to murder some defenseless girl.

    I opened my mouth to protest but the warrior spoke first. His dark eyes blazed. ¡°Orc,¡± he hissed.

    The word struck me hard and something in the back of my mind stirred. An instinct, one that I knew I hadn¡¯t had back on Earth. Back when I was 100% human. It was an instinctive, almost irresistible urge to release the hunched, muscular warrior¡¯s hand. To let him finish off the girl. The orc.

    I resisted it, scowling at the duergar and at myself. ¡°No!¡± I barked, my voice cutting and hard. Like when I¡¯d had to scold Cleo for peeing in the house. My arm shook with the effort of holding back his straining muscles. I briefly wondered what his Strength score was. Did he have one? But I clung to his wrist, grunting, our bodies straining across the still form of the comatose girl.

    The fighter bared his teeth and wrenched his arm back, suddenly, pulling away. But instead of trying to stab the young woman again he frowned at me, panting. He had a thick black beard, short and tangled, and he chewed it before he finally spoke. ¡°You¡¯re no ordinary elf, elf.¡±

    I scowled. ¡°No,¡± I grimaced. Maybe because I¡¯m a half-elf. ¡°I¡¯m stuck halfway down to hell, with no one but a happy-go-lucky minigriffon, a half-dead fantasy supermodel and an albino dwarf who wants to kill one of my only potential allies. I¡¯m sick and tired of this shit, but the least I can do is not stand by and let you murder an innocent girl who I only just saved from getting fucking raped.¡±

    My bare chest was heaving, my muscles twitching and ready for any sudden movements.

    The duergar looked at me, scowled, spat to one side. ¡°You speak not like any elf of whom I¡¯ve ever heard. Nor like any speaking creature, above or below the stone.¡±

    I didn¡¯t answer. So I guess I talk like an Earthling.

    His big, broad nose twitched, and his eyes suddenly widened. His gravelly voice was stunned. ¡°You¡¯re one of them.¡±

    I blinked, tensing. That didn¡¯t sound good. ¡°No I¡¯m not!¡± I protested, voice heated. Without looking, I subtly inched my hand toward my spear. Just in case¡­ I immediately ruined my denial by following it up with, ¡°One of who?¡±

    The pale face twisted into an expression I couldn¡¯t place. There was a brief gleam, a flash of concern, a contemplative pause and then a clear, hushed friendliness that was surprisingly out of character. ¡°One of the Undying.¡±

    I blinked. Undying? What the hell was he talking about?

    I was too surprised to stop the pseudo-dwarf as he moved again, but the duergar was suddenly harried, blade flashing in his hand as he deftly sliced through the cocoon. Now, apparently, he was more preoccupied with me than with his brief flash of murderous racism.

    I wondered if that was a good thing.

    He raised his head from the task, dark orbs deep and flat and unreadable. ¡°We must get you to my home,¡± the thickset warrior said. ¡°And then¡­¡± he seemed to hesitate. He tasted his beard again, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He stared at me intently. ¡°I believe they call it¡­ leveling up?¡±

 Chapter 10

    I knelt by the girl and held out a hand, flicking my fingers impatiently. ¡°Give me your cloak,¡± I said, furrowing my brows in concentration.

    The young orc woman lay on her back, eyes still closed. Her chest rose and fell slowly. Beneath her, the spider silk cocoon had been slit down one side and unwrapped from her body into a sort of hammock-shaped piece of fibrous cloth.

    ¡°Ha.¡±

    I looked up. ¡°What?¡±

    The grey-skinned warrior was looking down at me like I¡¯d said something amusing.

    ¡°She needs clothes,¡± I told him. ¡°Or something, at least.¡± I knew it wasn¡¯t strictly necessary, from a survivalist standpoint. But like I¡¯ve said¡­ clothes are what separate us from the monsters.

    The duergar huffed another sharp laugh and narrowed his eyes. ¡°You suppose I would give up my only cloak for an orc?¡± He shook his head. ¡°No, elf. Do not push my tolerance.¡±

    I blinked, stunned. ¡°Seriously?¡± I frowned, now, as the duergar hugged the garment tighter around his body. ¡°You want me to just lug her around completely naked?¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°You are the one who wishes to keep her,¡± he grunted. ¡°Clothe the savage yourself.¡±

    I gritted my teeth. If I had something, I would have used it, I wanted to snap. But I was in no mood to bicker. And I got the feeling that the duergar and I were already treading on thin ice as far as the orc girl was concerned. ¡°Fine¡­¡± I muttered. Just perfect.

    We didn¡¯t have a ton of time. More spiders could arrive at any minute, and I could tell the warrior was growing nervous. His eyes darted this way and that, scanning the shadows above. His fingers twitched on the haft of his axe, which he had pulled free from its sheath.

    I focused, forcing my mind back into old, familiar patterns. Assets.

    I looked down at my own clothes. I was wearing a pair of pants. They might have been white to begin with, but now they were dirty, stained with blood and dark ichor and spatters of other¡­ even less appealing bodily fluids. I remembered falling to my hands and knees and heaving, my body overwhelmed with pain. The pants tucked into my only other clothes, the pair of supple leather boots that sheathed me from foot to mid-calf. They looked like something a swashbuckler would wear. Neither option, though, would help me with my orc problem. The pants didn¡¯t have enough cloth to wrap around her body, and they were too disgusting, anyhow.

    ¡°We must go,¡± the duergar muttered impatiently, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

    ¡°If you would just help me¡ª"

    ¡°Leave her, then,¡± he said sharply. ¡°I care not.¡±

    Fuck. He was right about one thing, at least. There wasn¡¯t time. Maybe clothes would have to wai¡ª¡­ Ah. My eyes lit on something and I stuck out my hand again. ¡°Knife,¡± I grunted.

    Nothing.

    I looked up. ¡°It will take five times as long if I try to use my spear,¡± I snapped. ¡°Do you want to get out of here or not?¡±

    The duergar narrowed his eyes. Shiing. The hilt of the knife stung as he slapped it down in my palm.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± I muttered, and then went to work.

    * * *

    We jogged through dark tunnels, my head constantly ducking to dodge low ceilings and outcroppings. Ahead of me, the duergar warrior swish-clinked through the gloom. His axe was out again, swinging in one pumping hand. Heavy boots thud-thud-thudded into the stone.

    The curvaceous, evergreen-skinned orc girl I had flung over my shoulder in a fireman¡¯s carry bounced and jostled. I didn¡¯t mind. Her luscious curves were soft. One of my hands gripped an athletic thigh while her hair fell across my bare shoulder. The other gripped the haft of my warspear.

    Wrapped around the girl¡¯s body, long strips of spider silk made up a sort of primal covering. I¡¯d sliced several strips with the duergar¡¯s knife, tying one long piece of cloth across her round, perky breasts and behind her back. It served to cover her nipples, though it was generous with the side boob, under boob and cleavage. I cannot comment on whether or not that was intentional. Another several strips I¡¯d knotted together so I could wrap a makeshift loincloth around her hips and between her thighs. I might be a Cro-Magnon when it came to gorgeous women, but I wasn¡¯t some sort of perv. In fact, as much as I wished I could enjoy the sensation of a beautiful female pressed close to my body... I couldn¡¯t.

    I was worried about her.

    Worrying about a third party went against all the instincts I¡¯d developed in the past two years ¡ª and every time I¡¯d done it, things had ended poorly ¡ª but I¡¯d seen the twin fang-marks in her chest when we¡¯d cut free the silken cocoon. They were dark, angry wounds, and her skin was clammy against mine.

    The girl mumbled something near my ear, once again in that language I didn¡¯t know. But I forced myself to ignore her feverish murmurs so I could consider something else. Burdened though I was, I kept the dwarf in sight, my long legs and agility making up for my general clueless as I blundered after him.

    And that¡¯s what bothered me. Well, it was one of the many bothersome things that queued up to punch my general anxiety up a couple notches. Like someone had taped a ¡°Kick Me¡± sign to the Worry button in my brain. And this particular issue happened to be first in line.

    I had no idea where we were going.

    Home? the duergar had said. But what did that mean? Back to the castle that the girl and I had so recently escaped? I didn¡¯t think so.

    I might not have any idea where we were, but I could tell that we were heading down. The air was growing warmer, stiller, staler. Passages branched aimlessly, natural tunnels through the rock worn by millennia of dripping condensation. At one point, we flashed through some sort of corridor, chiseled from the living stone. Then I ducked past a rusted brazier half-ripped from the wall, under a cracked archway. Like that, the tiny, forgotten sliver of civilization was gone again. The duergar moved fast through the twisting stone entrails of the earth, like he knew where he was going. It lent credence to the theory that was rapidly developing in my mind ¡ª like me, the pale-skinned warrior was a survivor.

    I ticked off points in favor of this theory: His possessions, even his ragged old cloak, were precious. Check. He was distrustful of outsiders to the point of violence. Double check. And he had gone up against a formidable opponent all by himself. Something told me that hadn¡¯t been by choice. He had been out on his own. And he had been hunted.

    But what did all of this tell me about him? Was he some sort of outcast? An exile? Lost? And why was he helping me?

    The other duergar I¡¯d met ¡ª admittedly a poor sampling ¡ª had seemed more of the torture, rape and pillage variety. A sort of anti-dwarf, as far as my preconceived notions of dwarves went. But if this one was on his own, at least, I could begin to interpret his actions. As a Survivor myself, I knew that there was one thing in which I could trust: self-interest and pragmatism.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    Fortune had thrown us together. The duergar would be a fool to hurt me when I¡¯d proven myself a useful ally. In addition, there was the whole Undying thing. Obviously he was impressed. Or calculating. Likely, he figured he could somehow make use of me.

    The woman, on the other hand, could easily be seen as a liability. Hell, I would have looked at her as a liability if I hadn¡¯t already invested so much time, energy, pain and ingenuity in trying to keep her alive. My other comrade had no such investment. Maybe he saw things clearer than I did. Maybe I was just blinded by this silly hero instinct that had been starting to creep up inside me.

    Should I be worried?

    But I shelved the idea for a moment and checked in with my body. I expected to be breathing heavily, sweating buckets in the strangely thick air. Instead, I was surprised to find that even though we¡¯d been loping for a solid fifteen minutes I was nowhere near winded. I had been in good shape back home. I needed to be. But I still hated cardio, like any normal human being. And the only time I¡¯d ever run while carrying another person¡­

    I wasn¡¯t strong enough.

    I swallowed, hesitated in my stride, and felt the boneless body jouncing across my shoulders. A familiar sensation. My mind flashed with blood and sunlight and dusty sweat and the ravenous sounds of¡ª

    No.

    I clamped down and sprang ahead, following the clinking chainmail tunic as it scraped around another bend. I shoved my thoughts into a box and locked the box. Then I put that box in another box. And then I smashed that box with a hammer.

    Instantly, I felt lighter. Compartmentalizing my emotions might not win me any awards for Most Well-Adjusted Apocalypse Survivor. But then again, I might win something if all the emotionally sensitive contestants were dead. My burden was nothing. I felt like I could run forever. My feet were barely touching the rough ground, and my legs were tireless.

    I ran without thinking, without feeling, without questioning.

    For a brief, blissful moment.

    Silence.

    * * *

    I jogged to a halt beside the duergar. I shifted the orc girl on my shoulders, tossed strands of flowing white hair from my face with a flick of my head, and cursed softly, wonderingly. I couldn¡¯t think of anything appropriately snarky to say, so instead I just stared.

    The tunnel mouth spilled out onto a jutting ledge, the crumbling stone parapet evidence that ¡ª at one time or another ¡ª some sort of civilization had claimed this world of stone as their home. We had arrived at the edge of a massive cavern. The space was gigantic, looming, empty. Large enough to house half a dozen football stadiums with room to spare. It was split down the middle by a huge crevasse, probably a hundred yards across, which ran from one end of the cave to the other. And, for the first time since I¡¯d left the flickering, torchlit bedchamber of Duergar Central, I could see in color.

    Blueish, greenish, whitish light shone from the walls like abstract patterns stitched from the aurora borealis. I couldn¡¯t tell if it was glowing rock, phosphorescent moss or just the flowing light of embedded stars, but I imagined it¡¯s how the night sky would look if all the constellations moved a couple hundred thousand light years closer. And then threw a rave.

    The stocky warrior was panting, hands on his knees, glancing up at me as I looked around with dumbstruck wonder. ¡°Nearly there,¡± he muttered gruffly.

    I nodded, unable to keep my mouth closed. Instead of speaking, I followed his pointing finger with my eyes. Down the staircase carved directly into the curved stone wall, along a broad, paved path and right to the edge of the monstrous crack in the cavern floor.

    There, arcing out over the abyss, was the bridge.

    ¡°Holy shit¡­¡±

    ¡°Aye.¡± A whisper that was almost reverent.

    It was so wide that you could have fit four lanes of highway traffic. Plus room for shoulders. It arched gracefully, up in a shallow curve that rose a dozen, two dozen feet. And then, abruptly, ended. Almost exactly at the midpoint of the overpass, the stone broke off in a jagged fracture. The remains of a central building that bisected the bridge ¡ª something between a guard tower and a toll booth ¡ª tottered right on the edge of the saw-toothed brink. The rest of the arch continued, after twenty yards of empty air, the shattered stonework as ragged as a fresh wound. It was punctuation. An exclamation point dragging your eyes from the masterful masonry and natural splendor of the cavern. A question mark demanding that you wonder what on earth had split the bridge in half.

    After another moment, the pale-skinned dwarf shouldered his axe and thumped carefully to his left, down the worn stairs. I followed. It was clear where we were going.

    The stairs were larger, higher than they looked, and we descended several stories before reaching the flat expanse of the cavern¡¯s floor. Everything, in fact, seemed larger than I¡¯d expected. Like I was a tiny little creature that had entered this place through a mouse hole and with each step was finding the world to be bigger than I¡¯d anticipated. On either side of the path, I could see flat, shimmering patches of what turned out to be sparse, sparkling plant life. The plant colonies spread out along the ground and looked as delicate as lace, filmy like crawling cobwebs. Fragile enough to tear at the faintest breeze.

    Only here the air was still, quiet and oh-so-heavy. The gentle flutter of Webster¡¯s quiet wingbeats was the only sound beyond our quiet footfalls. The great weight of all that air seemed to press down around us, and our group suddenly seemed indescribably small. I¡¯d experienced something like this in the city, back on Earth. The crushing sensation of surrounding emptiness, like you¡¯re the only thing around for miles that is alive and breathing and thinking your tiny thoughts.

    I was grateful when we stepped onto the bridge. Stone beneath my feet felt real, and the rising bridge lifted me away from the strip of alien landscape we¡¯d just crossed. The duergar led me up the center of the arcing structure, avoiding the remnants of shattered stone balustrades and split paving stones that had been obscured by distance. Up close, it was obvious that whatever had sundered the bridge had shaken the structure to its foundations.

    ¡°What happened?¡± The question seemed mandatory, and it came out in a hoarse whisper. I felt like speaking too loud would disturb something, shift an invisible balance. And not in our favor.

    But the duergar simply stumped ahead.

    When we arrived at the central building, I realized the walls of the structure had been dwarfed by the size of the chasm and the bridge itself. The wall might have been crumbling, but it still stood two or three times my height, and the single layer of windows indicated that it was all one level. The wall ran the entire width of the bridge, broken by three gaping archways that I imagined were tall and wide enough to allow for some sort of vehicular traffic. What was the fantasy equivalent of a semi-truck?

    The final quarter of the wall was more built out, obviously some sort of guard house or administrative arrangement. There was a big, raw opening like a missing tooth, badly in need of a door, and my guide paused at the threshold before I could see inside.

    His shoulders hunched forward. Like he was thinking. Or praying. And then he raised his head and stepped through. Beyond, the bridge continued for another twenty or thirty feet before the pitiless drop.

    Immediately, I could tell that the duergar warrior had been living here for some time. A ring of charred stones, a tripod of old iron and a sprinkling of ash indicated the fire pit. There was a small black kettle next to it, half the spout broken off. A ragged bedroll, a shallow metal pan that hadn¡¯t yet been washed, a spoon and a knife and a bent fork. The short fighter stood to one side, his face twisted in an expression somewhere between nervousness and pride.

    ¡°Nice place,¡± I muttered, since it was the polite thing to do. And he did have a pretty big axe.

    The duergar grunted, ducking his chin into his beard. A nod of acknowledgement?

    But I had more important things on my mind than his feelings. I knelt by the fire pit and gently rolled the girl onto the bedroll, sighing as the tension of her weight left my shoulders. My spear I set gently on the stone. I looked at the young woman for a long moment. In the soft, glowing light of thousands of underground star-plants, her features struck me as lovely, beautiful even. Alluring, in a foreign kind of way.

    But that¡¯s not why I was doing this. I shook my head, clearing those thoughts away. It was an honor thing. An obligation. I was man enough to admit that she¡¯d helped me out of a pretty gnarly situation when I arrived. I was just¡­ returning the favor. As it were.

    My eyes traced down her throat and across her collarbone. They started to journey lower but my instincts picked something up before my gaze could reach the swell of her chest. My glance flicked back up to her neck. My breath seized.

    There was no pulse.

    Shit. The fang marks were dark and angry, and now I could see tiny veins of dark purple and black spreading out beneath her skin.

    I looked around wildly. Shit shit shit.

    The duergar lived here. Surely he had some dusty old potion bottles. A book of spells. A rack of healing herbs, at the very least. Lonely hermits always had those, didn¡¯t they? ¡°Do you know medicine?¡± I demanded, my voice strained. My eyes, I¡¯m sure, were hot. Helplessly angry.

    The pale dwarf grunted and shrugged, scratching his beard thoughtfully. The tattoos on his knuckles were dark blue against his alabaster skin. ¡°Why?¡±

    I pressed my ear to the woman¡¯s chest, fingers groping desperately at her wrist. Nothing.

    No! This couldn¡¯t be happening.

    Not again.

    ¡°She¡¯s not breathing.¡±

 Chapter 11

    I think the duergar could tell how close I was to freaking the fuck out.

    Probably because I was already doing it.

    I had no idea how long the young orc woman had been quiet as death. But as I stared at her, laying there limply on the too-short bedroll, I realized my hands were shaking. I could¡¯ve sworn she¡¯d been muttering to herself, murmuring in her strange language, just a couple minutes ago. How long ago?

    I was wracking my brain, but did it really matter? What mattered was that her breath was stilled and her heart wasn¡¯t beating. There was no pulse in her throat, nothing in her wrist. I clenched my teeth together and blew out a harsh blast of air.

    ¡°Can¡¯t you do something?!¡± I growled.

    But the pale dwarf just looked at me, chewing his lower lip thoughtfully.

    ¡°Fuck!¡± I swore. I turned back and bent over the girl, my mind racing as I tried to call on my limited knowledge of medicine.

    I knew how to bandage. And I could do some basic ¡ª extremely basic ¡ª first aid. Back home, being extremely careful had been my most potent panacea. I avoided getting injured as much as I could. When shit happened, I usually just wrapped it up tight with gauze, bandages and duct tape. With limited supplies and unlimited time, I usually let the human body take care of itself. But now I had no time. If I didn¡¯t help this girl immediately, she would be dead. I couldn¡¯t let that happen.

    Not again. The thought flashed through my mind unbidden. I swallowed, clenched my teeth, forced myself back to logic.

    Assets. I glanced around, but couldn¡¯t see anything in the duergar¡¯s camp beyond what I¡¯d first noticed. What did I know about venom? Had I seen anything on TV, ages ago? Some episode of Animal Planet or a National Geographic documentary?

    Webster had swooped over the wall and landed on a nearby mound of broken rock. He watched me, strangely still, the end of his tufted tail the only thing moving as it flicked, flicked, flicked from side to side.

    Nothing.

    Wait! I had more. My character sheet! It came up in front of my eyes even as I brought it to mind, and I desperately waved my hands, slowly managing to scroll in starts and stops until I reached the relevant section.

    <hr>

    Skills

    Combat > Strength > Polearms (Lvl. 5): You have moderate skill when it comes to wielding polearms. (This includes spears, quarterstaffs and improvised, pole-based weaponry.)

    Non-Combat > Wisdom > Tracking (Lvl. 5): You have moderate skill when it comes to finding things that don¡¯t want to be found, tracing things that don¡¯t want to be traced.

    <hr>

    ¡°Crap.¡± I had nothing. I was about to force my mind down another path when something else jumped out at me. Just beneath my Skills tab, in Abilities.

    <hr>

    Arcane Framework: You have a deep understanding of the nature of reality. Thus, you better know how to bend it. Provided you have enough Mana, you can cast spells that you don¡¯t know. You have a 25% chance for success with spells you¡¯ve never seen cast before, and a 50% chance of success with spells you¡¯ve seen cast before. On a success, a new spell is added to your Spells list. On a failure, there is an [unknown] chance that something unexpected will happen.

    <hr>

    ¡°Spells¡­¡± I muttered. Magic. My brain spun, latched onto the image of the hulking duergar, his hand slicing the air and my body smashing into the wall like a rag doll. But if there was magic to hurt, there must be magic to heal.

    My heart was beating faster, and my focus had narrowed to the young woman before me. There was nothing else.

    I knew, dimly, that it didn¡¯t matter if I gave up. There was no one to blame me. The duergar, in fact, would probably congratulate me, before rolling this poor girl¡¯s body off the end of the bridge. I had done everything I knew how, and if she died anyway¡­ Well, people die. That¡¯s how life goes, sometimes, and it doesn¡¯t matter if you¡¯re on Earth or in some strange, underground cave world several dimensions down the street.

    But I also knew that I couldn¡¯t surrender to this. I had failed way too many times already. I had given up on the people who mattered most to me. I knew it didn¡¯t matter, on a cosmic scale, if I gave up on one more. There was no reason for me to be attached to someone I barely knew. Didn¡¯t know at all, in fact. But while my inner Survivor crossed his arms and scowled, the rest of me racked my memory. It did matter.

    For the first time in a long time, I had the chance to remake a decision. This time I was going to make it right, dammit.

    And so I searched my brain for some inkling, some idea of how to tap into the magic that I knew I possessed. The Spells section of Jondalar¡¯s character sheet might be empty, but I had an unfair advantage. I had spent a year preparing for this game, and I didn¡¯t have to know a spell in order to cast it.

    I stared at the girl and then leaned forward, placing my hands gently on her shoulders. I was nervous, and my palms were as clammy as her pallid skin. I seemed to remember that touch was useful to healing magic. Remember¡­ What a silly word to use. I¡¯d probably read it somewhere. In a make-believe book from someone¡¯s imagination. And now I was trying to use it to save someone¡¯s life. I shook my head and tried to focus, like I was meditating, tried to let my breath flow easier.

    You know it¡¯s there¡­ I told myself. Your character can cast spells¡­

    The girl¡¯s face was so still, not a shadow of breath. But I ignored the panic that was crashing over me. I focused deep in my core, trying to draw on¡­ Something. A few seconds passed in, my heart pumping loud.

    Come on.

    Come on¡­

    But¡­ I couldn¡¯t wrap my head around it.

    ¡°Fuck.¡± I swore, softly. I had no idea how to harness magic. Was it like flexing a muscle? Was it like doing a math problem? Was it something else, something I¡¯d never before experienced? How do you call on a power you¡¯ve never¡­ imagined in reality?

    I hesitated a second longer. Then, I gave in. I had no idea what I was doing. And I was out of options. I sighed, and started to lift my hands.

    That, of course, was when I felt it, a flicker of heat in my gut. My tongue prickled. I smelled rain. Wet leaves. And my vision flickered dark. I gasped. Eyes open and seeing nothing, I fell into the flowing tide of impressions that flowed across my senses.

    Shadows moved before my blind eyes. The soft trickling sound of water dripping from rain-spattered trees pricked my ears. My mouth tasted of mint and fresh grass and cinnamon. There was a bright snap of lightning that cut through me from shoulder to hip.

    Far away, I felt movement beneath my palms. A slow rise. A fall. Nothing more.

    I wanted to open my eyes and see what I¡¯d done, but they were already open and seeing nothing. Another crack of fire across my body, through my chest, and I was falling. The ground was gone and there was nothing beneath me and I was pitching through the abyss.

    ¡°Move.¡±

    The duergar¡¯s big hand hit my chest hard enough to knock me on my ass. My eyelids flickered and I gasped, scrambling. I could see again and I shook my head, pressing one hand to my forehead as a wave of nausea washed over me, crawled up the inside of my throat.

    What the fuck? I swayed sideways, off balance. But then I was shoving myself up onto my knees and scuttling around to watch.

    The warrior bent over the girl, mumbling into his short, dark beard.

    My fingers plucked uselessly at the ground, found a broken knuckle of stone and gripped it tightly. The rough edges of the shard pressed into my palm. If he tried to hurt her, I was going to lift the rock and¡­ But I was overreacting, right?

    ¡°Not dead.¡±

    The words surprised me enough to snap me from my murky thoughts. I glanced up into the warrior¡¯s dark eyes.

    ¡°Almost dead.¡±

    I swallowed. My eyes traced the orc girl¡¯s waxen cheek. I could swear her pine needle skin was paler than before. ¡°What do you mean?¡± My voice was hard and sharp. I could still taste the spices on my tongue.

    ¡°The venom slows the body, preserves it. Keeps it fresh. Her pulse is almost gone. Her breath is minimal.¡±Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    I swallowed. I¡¯m no doctor, but it sounded bad. ¡°What just happened?¡±

    ¡°She was almost gone and you were fool enough to try and save her.¡± The duergar¡¯s face darkened. ¡°I know not if you are less an idiot than you act, or just incredibly lucky, but had I not stepped in you would have poured yourself into the spell and slipped away with her.¡±

    My mouth had gone dry, and I realized my fingers were trembling around the ragged stone. It was like there were pieces of sand and grit filling the spaces between my teeth and tongue and up my cheeks. ¡°Can you¡­¡± I coughed, leaned against the floor to try and still the spinning. ¡°Can you finish what I started?¡±

    The dwarf considered me for a moment. His jaw clenched as he turned his gaze back to the young woman and I remembered his harsh grunt. Orc. I remembered the instinctive thrust of his knife.

    ¡°Not for her,¡± he grunted.

    I waited, sensing there was more.

    ¡°For you, Undying.¡± He used the word like a title, capitalized. ¡°I will do what I can.¡±

    I waited. Nothing is free. There was still more.

    ¡°And in return you will help me leave this place. To go home.¡±

    At this point, I almost wasn¡¯t surprised when the gold-scripted notification flickered in front of my eyes. In fact, this time, I managed to control it with a thought, shunting it to one side so it only filled part of my vision.

    <hr>

    [????] has offered you a QUEST!

    Tit for Tat

    In return for attempting to save the life of the young orc female [????], the duergar [????] requires your help. Help him return to his home, no matter the perils that await.

    Reward for success: XP and [unknown]!

    Penalty for failure (or refusal): Probable death of the female. Certain sensation of guilt.

    Yes/No

    <hr>

    I swallowed. My first quest, huh? I frowned. Were they usually so light on the details? And so heavy on the passive aggressive digs at my guilty conscience? I was already pretty committed to saving this girl, but was it enough to justify¡ª

    ¡°I¡¯ll do it.¡±

    My voice firm and confident, despite my roiling nausea. I met the duergar¡¯s dark orbs. Enough thinking. The girl didn¡¯t have that kind of time. And what did I have to lose anyway? It¡¯s not like I had other plans that would get in the way of helping out my new, freakishly-pale ally.

    The notification dissipated as I agreed, and the ashen-skinned dwarf jerked his head in a nod before I could second guess my decision. He held out his broad hand to me. A handshake? I wondered. When I tried to shake it, though, his hand slid forward and grabbed me by the forearm.

    Got it. Medieval style.

    Only when I tried to pull my hand away, the duergar¡¯s pale fingers sank firmly into my skin. He held me tightly, and his teeth bared in a grimace. ¡°Do you have magic left, elf?¡±

    I swallowed around the sensation of sand lining my throat. I had no idea, but I nodded, slowly.

    ¡°Good.¡±

    And then came the pain.

    The hand clamped down around my forearm was suddenly icy cold and scorching hot. As I fell forward, palm smacking down on the stone, I wouldn¡¯t have been surprised to see steam or smoke rising from my skin. Pale fingers like iron bands crushed down, but I didn¡¯t yell, scream or even cry out. My body was tight, wound up, my jaw clenched too rigid to open. My tongue was glued to the top of my mouth.

    Then there was a yank deep in my gut, and a crackling sensation up and down my skin. My vision warped, sparked, light dancing across my gaze. When I managed to raise my head, the duergar wasn¡¯t even looking at me any longer. His heavy features were a scowl of concentration and his voice was a low, rhythmic rumble. One broad hand was wrapped around my body and the other was pressed flat to the young woman¡¯s bare, flat midriff. The tattoos on his knuckles flared darker.

    This was not like any videogame I¡¯d ever played. Right click to cast Heal. Press X to use a Med Kit. This was some next-level, deep-underground, chanting-like-a-cult type magic. And despite the pain¡­

    It made me feel alive.

    If my first attempt at magic had been a drugged-out shroom trip, with Magnuus at the wheel it was like I¡¯d injected a dozen shots of caffeine straight into my nervous system. I snarled, my entire body pulsing. I felt like a battery. Like a surging electric wire. Like the goddam Energizer Bunny.

    Then, something clicked.

    I couldn¡¯t have said what it was. There was no movement except for the flex of muscles beneath my taut skin. There was no sensation but the burning frost of his hand and the scalding heat that boiled in my body. There was no sound but the duergar¡¯s toneless chant. But something had slotted, silently, into place.

    Evergreen skin heaved beneath a broad, pale, tattooed hand.

    There was a hacking, sputtering, wet cough.

    Black veins of poison melted away.

    And then the orc girl¡¯s eyelids snapped up, teeth bared in a feral scowl as blue eyes the color of the open sky regarded us with dazzling ferocity.

    If she could have, I had no doubt that the orc would have torn our throats with her teeth, kicked our bodies into the crevasse and stalked away across the glowing cavern with hardly a care in the world. She probably would have taken the duergar¡¯s bent fork, too, purely out of spite. Or maybe I was just misinterpreting her vibe. Who knows, maybe if I woke up half-naked surrounded by strange men with my last memory being of a swan dive out the window of a rapist¡¯s castle into the web of gigantic fanged horror¡­ I might have been bitchy too.

    Okay, let¡¯s be honest. Three-quarters naked.

    But luckily for us, and the duergar¡¯s well-loved utensils, the girl simply heaved, twisted onto one side and retched. She spat up a sludgy pile of dark goop. It looked black and slick, unnatural. I swallowed down the wave of churning heat that made me want to retch, myself. Then she lay slowly back, chest rising and falling shakily. She scarcely seemed to have the energy to move.

    The duergar frowned. His low, heavy chant had cut off abruptly at her first movement. He glanced at me, then slowly released his grip on my forearm. I looked down, expecting to see a shiny red handprint burned into my bare skin. But there was nothing.

    The orc¡¯s surprisingly bright gaze met mine first, as I lifted my head, then twitched to the squat, bearded man looming over her. Her eyes widened. Her lips curled back in a weak snarl, but when she tried to push herself up onto her elbows her expression twisted into a mask of pain.

    She muttered something. A threat? A question?

    I looked at the dwarf, raising my eyebrows, but he shook his head. Then, to my surprise, teeth showed through his tangled beard in a ragged smile. ¡°Your problem now, elf,¡± he grunted. With a wheezing sigh, he shoved himself up, palms on his knees.

    ¡°Half-elf,¡± I muttered, too quiet for the warrior to hear. I heard him stagger to the edge of the bridge, boots rattling against loose stones. I guess magic takes a lot more out of you than fiction leads you to expect. I sighed, then turned back to the woman I¡¯d just Quested myself out for and ¡ª according to the duergar ¡ª nearly killed myself trying to save.

    She blinked, then her expression tensed in a look of recognition. If there was a look that meant ah yes, this is the stranger who fell through the ceiling, slashed open some faces and then needed me to save him from torture by helping him make a clich¨¦ window escape, she gave it to me.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I muttered. ¡°That¡¯s me.¡± I tried to give her a reassuring smile.

    What had I gotten myself into?

    We stared at each other for several long minutes, both of us seeming to come to the conclusion that speech would be a wasted effort.

    It was Webster who broke the stalemate.

    The cat-sized microgriffon had been watching quietly, but now he fluttered over from the crumbling wall of the guardhouse. He landed next to me with a ruffle of feathers and the gentle click-click of tiny claws.

    ¡°Hey, buddy,¡± I said quietly.

    The dwarf hadn¡¯t come back yet, and the glances I¡¯d thrown over my shoulder told me he was sitting right at the edge of the crumbling precipice, short legs dangling out off the edge. Either he trusted me enough to know that I wouldn¡¯t give him a little push, or he trusted my general incompetence enough to know that I wouldn¡¯t Sparta kick my host into a crevasse when I had no idea how to survive in this underground wilderness. I wish I could say I was sticking with the first assumption, out of my general high level of trust in humanity and strange associated humanoid races. My Survivor instincts were telling me it was the second.

    The microgriffon chirped in greeting, padding forward and tucking his wings down along his back. I hadn¡¯t gotten a good look at him yet, and the ambient glow of the cavern was finally giving me the gift of color, so I took a second to admire his long, handsome feathers. They were dark brown, some edged with white, like an eagle. His fur beneath had the red-brown hue of a squirrel. I reached out to stroke down his back, and he arched up, catlike.

    The young orc woman moved, and my eyes were on her immediately. But to my surprise, she was simply lifting one hand and staring in wonder at my small companion animal. She reached out, murmuring softly in her language. Webster stepped forward, butting his head into her palm and, to my surprise, radiating a soft, contented purr.

    Was it my imagination, or did it sound vaguely like the sound of a small cleaning bot vacuuming crumbs and dust from a tiled kitchen floor?

    My musings were interrupted by a sound.

    A soft, surprised giggle.

    I blinked at the girl. Her big blue eyes were shining, and her fingers scratched between Websters bobcat ears with a gentle expertise. Her skin was still waxy and pale, her hair scattered around her face in disarray, but the soft edge of a smile turned up her lips. I noticed that they were an even darker blue-green color than her skin, but I was starting to realize that her alien features weren¡¯t at all off-putting. Was this the same girl who only moments ago had been on the edge of death?

    My only explanation is that no matter in which planet, universe or realm of reality you find yourself, women feel better around small, soft, fuzzy animals.

    I nodded, feeling like I should say something. ¡°His name¡¯s Webster,¡± was the best I managed to come up with. Not bad, I¡¯d say. I¡¯ve never been great at talking to beautiful women. Except for Annie.

    I swallowed at the thought, coughed down a black cloud of regret and sniffed. Except for when it really mattered.

    The girl glanced over and raised one dark eyebrow.

    I gestured at the microgriffon. ¡°Webster,¡± I repeated.

    The girl scratched under my animal companion¡¯s chin thoughtfully. ¡°Webster,¡± she repeated, her accent thick. She had some trouble with W, and her R was unnecessarily harsh, but she obviously understood the point I was getting across.

    I nodded.

    She glanced back down, fondling the microgriffon gently with her hands and murmuring in her own language. I caught my tiny friend¡¯s name, but nothing more.

    Webster was definitely purring now, big black eyes half-shut and blissful. I wanted to scowl at him. Until recently, the creature had been relegated to eating garbage on the blasted-out shell of a fallout world. Now, he got to snuggle contentedly in the elbow crook of a beautiful, alien woman. Some of us have all the luck.

    ¡°And I¡¯m Col¡ª... Jondalar.¡± I shuffled closer on my knees, trying to keep my expression open and unthreatening. I held out my hand.

    The girl looked up, eyes narrowing. They flicked from my hand to my face. Then, very slowly, she held out her own, small hand. She seemed uncertain, so I simply shook it briefly and then released. Her skin was warm and soft, very much alive, and I regretted having to let go.

    But I pulled my hand back and tapped my chest. ¡°Jondalar.¡± The name was growing more natural each time I used it, but I still hadn¡¯t quite gotten the feel for it yet.

    ¡°Jondalar¡­¡± Her nose wrinkled, like she didn¡¯t recognize the name, but she seemed to have an easier time with it. She pressed her free hand to her chest, never ceasing the important task of Webster-petting. ¡°Aleesi.¡±

    I nodded. ¡°Pleased to meet you, Aleesi.¡±

    The young woman seemed about to respond, but then her eyes flickered over my shoulder and her lips abruptly snapped shut. She pulled Webster closer, holding him to her like a security blanket.

    ¡°So¡­ Jondalar and Webster.¡± The low, rumbling voice of the duergar sounded behind me.

    I turned, looking up at the stocky dwarf. His face was solemn. I heard Webster chirp, like he recognized his name.

    ¡°My name is Magnuus. I have been deep in thought. And now, it is time for us to speak of what we must do together.¡±

 Chapter 12

    The orc girl¡¯s blue eyes watched closely as Magnuus Thorgrimsbrekt and I talked.

    Aleesi, I thought. If I was right, and that was her name.

    She glanced back and forth between us constantly, like she was on high alert. Intently, as well, like she was trying to read our minds from our body language. I didn¡¯t blame her. I¡¯d be careful, too, if I was in her place. Every so often, she¡¯d reach up with one slim hand and run her fingers along the edge of a pointed ear. I noticed that she wore a series of earrings down one side, bone and bits of shining metal.

    It was the appropriate time for names now, apparently.

    Magnuus Thorgrimsbrekt. A mouthful. Bigger than the he was, definitely. As I¡¯d watched him move about his small camp it seemed that the warrior was scrawnier than the other duergar I¡¯d had the pleasure of meeting. Leaner, his bulky chainmail tunic and big axe lending him a certain heft that wasn¡¯t backed up by reality. If we were both standing, the crown of his head would probably have crested at my mid-chest.

    Magnuus had cleaned out his small pan by stumping to the lip of the bridge and scraping the blackened, charred bits of past meals over the edge. The fire he made with a flint and steel and several handfuls of dense, dried moss. Or lichen. Is there a difference? There was a small stash of food in one darkened corner by the wall: thick-stalked mushrooms with caps the size of my fist and a couple hunks of something that might have been meat. It had been smoked or jerked, something arcane, antiquated procedure that had given it a dry, cracked-leather look.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have much,¡± the duergar had grunted. ¡°But we can gather more tomorrow.¡± It came across as the self-conscious attempt of a once-proud man trying to justify a poor offering.

    I just nodded, wondering when I¡¯d started reading so deep into things. Maybe, after spending too much time alone, you start to see people different. Like puzzles or challenges, obstacles or assets to be unraveled. Or maybe it was just my natural reaction to arriving in a strange world with absolutely zero knowledge of what to expect.

    My lack of knowledge was something I¡¯d have to fix. Soon. But not now. Because now that food was sizzling over our host¡¯s small fire my rumbling stomach reminded me that it had been a long time since I¡¯d last eaten. On Earth¡­ I realized, and the thought was incredibly strange. It struck me hard enough that I spent several long minutes just staring into the fire, marveling. Or maybe I was just unconsciously staring at the food, silently begging those mushrooms to be as tasty as they smelled. Maybe a bit nutty, and a little smoky.

    Alright¡­ mostly they just smelled like something warm and edible.

    A glance to one side revealed that Aleesi was also staring at the small pan with a glazed look of hunger. Made me wonder when the last time was that she¡¯d eaten. Which made me want to know how she¡¯d ended up in the crazy, messed-up situation that I¡¯d landed in the middle of when I arrived. Literally landed in. Almost literally in the middle of, but luckily not quite. That was the train of thought that snapped me out of my daze.

    ¡°What is this place?¡±

    The duergar seemed to have gotten distracted with the cooking, but he glanced up at my sudden question. His eyebrows came together, then he tugged at his short beard. ¡°While we eat,¡± he said.

    I was about to protest. I was in another realm of reality, and I could tell that my mind was still having a hard time grasping the fact. That idea alone seemed to be taking up a lot of my brain¡¯s computing power, like I was functioning at suboptimal levels while I ran a major software update.

    Currently downloading the Thorr¡¯un DLC.

    It wasn¡¯t just the actuality of my transition, either. It seemed like my senses were heightened, like I was more aware of everything going on around me. The smells that drifted up on the smoke from the duergar¡¯s blackened cooking pan were acute. The sounds ¡ª every time one of us scuffed a movement on the stone, or the soft clink of mail whenever our dour cook shifted his weight. Even the sights of the place seemed to slam into my eyeballs with greater detail and clarity.

    I was in a whole new world. Only without Aladdin, a magic lamp, a flying carpet or an exotic princess to have my back. Just me, a magic spear, a flying cat and¡­ I glanced over at Aleesi. Huh. The pretty orc girl could be a stand-in for a Disney princess, in a pinch.

    Maybe I¡¯m doing better than I thought.

    Long story short, my brain was working hard enough as it was without having to deal with a lore dump. And the thought of food made my stomach grumble. Not for the first time. So I just nodded, instead of arguing. If this stranger was going to feed me, I¡¯d wait before bombarding him with questions. Besides, my new comrade seemed a duergar of few words. Not one to waste his breath just to share a few useless tidbits. He¡¯d probably give me the SparkNotes version. Which would be better than my random questions anyway.

    Magnuus poked at the mushrooms a few times with his fork, turned them over to give them what I supposed was an even sear. Then, he stabbed a meaty stalk with his knife and held it out in my general direction. I hesitated a second, instinctively waiting for a plate. Then I realized that we were going ultra al fresco on this meal, and reached for the offering.

    ¡°Fuck.¡±

    My hand flinched open instinctively as Magnuus slid the steaming mushroom off the end of the cooking knife and it burned against my fingers. It fell floorward, flipping several times. Shit. My first meal in Thorr¡¯un was going to be half-raw mushroom with a garnish of rock dust.

    And then I caught it.

    My hand flicked out, my sensitive fingers lightly cradling it before it could strike the stone and roll away across the grimy stone floor. But¡­ I didn¡¯t¡­ It was like my hands had moved a split second faster than I my mind could react, saving my dinner before my brain had processed what was happening.

    I sighed. I guess my new body was going to take some getting used to. I glanced over at Magnuus, who raised his bushy eyebrows at me. ¡°Cheers,¡± I muttered, lifting the mushroom in his direction. Then, I took my first bite, chewed hard, and swallowed.

    Well. It wasn¡¯t bad, if you don¡¯t care about taste. Not that it was gross, more that it just¡­ seemed to lack that particular attribute. Like I was eating a thick chunk of rubber.

    I took another bite as Magnuus grunted and speared a second mushroom. ¡°So¡­¡± I prompted. ¡°Story time?¡±

    The duergar regarded me, glanced at Aleesi, then down at the morsel of food. He jerked his head in her direction and held out the knife. ¡°For the¡­ orc.¡± He seemed to chew the word before it rumbled out.

    It made me realize how hard it was for him to share his food with the girl. I wondered if that would be part of the story. If not, I would have to ask. Because as far as I was concerned the girl wasn¡¯t going anywhere. Not as weak as she was, still recovering from the spider bite. Call me a misogynist pig, but I was invested in protecting her.

    ¡°The time of stories¡­¡± My host muttered as I carefully slid the mushroom free, careful not to let it burn me.

    I offered the portion to Aleesi and the girl reached out, snatching it up. Her bright eyes were wide and hungry, but she sniffed it carefully before taking a careful, dainty nibble. As the girl lowered her head to her hands, my eyes were drawn to a stud of yellowed bone that was drilled through her earlobe. It was a grinning skull, strangely intricate for something as small as my thumbnail.

    Curled up against her leg, Webster perked up his ears and raised his head from her lap as she drew back. Like a dog hoping for a treat. The little microgriffon hadn¡¯t left her side since she¡¯d befriended him.

    Traitor, I thought with a quiet snort of amusement. Not that I wouldn¡¯t trade places with the little guy to curl up next to a beautiful woman. I ripped another bite free with my teeth as Magnuus cleared his throat, bringing my wandering thoughts back to reality. Extreme hunger really makes it hard to focus. I was already almost done with the meager meal.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°You have asked what this place is,¡± the duergar murmured. He paused, and I found myself pricking up my ears in spite of myself. ¡°It is Thirdohr, the World of Stone.¡± He paused again, and I couldn¡¯t wait any longer.

    ¡°So we aren¡¯t in Thorr¡¯un?¡± I blurted, ¡°And what the hell is going on down here? What¡¯s with the duergar and the orcs and the spiders and¡­¡± I trailed off.

    My host looked irritated at my interruption, and I swallowed the rubbery bite of mushroom. Got it. Let the dwarf talk. I shot a glance over at Aleesi, and the orc girl actually snorted before glancing down and stroking several fingers down Webster¡¯s feathery back. Guess you didn¡¯t need to speak the language to know someone had put his foot in his mouth.

    ¡°As I said,¡± my host began again. ¡°This is Thirdohr. The kingdom carved beneath Thorr¡¯un by Utr, lord of the Dverga.¡± His dark eyes seemed to grow hazy, like he was looking into the distant past. ¡°Next, inhabited by the Senvaldr, who built the long tunnels. Then, their younger, smaller kindred. The dwarves.¡± Magnuus¡¯s voice was almost a sneer as he named the race. ¡°The dwarves lived in the tunnels, built their cities and mined the ore and gems that Utr had left for all Dverga. All was well. But then came the Fall. The dwarves grew insolent, overly proud. They were cursed by Lugni, who coveted their wealth and power. He sent the urekt, the orc, the grimmlin, the goblin, and the sliepnaas, the spider. Up from the Deep Places. Down from the Medgard. And the dwarves were too weak and lazy to hold on to the gifts and bounties the gods had bestowed upon them.¡±

    I had never been much for history. And the names and places that the duergar referenced were all utterly foreign to me. But I was transfixed. I had chewed the cap of my mushroom to a pulp and finally swallowed. The duergar¡¯s voice was slow and even and rhythmic, almost like he was speaking his way through a poem. I didn¡¯t interrupt now, waiting for the story to continue.

    ¡®That was when we, the duergar, rose from our deep mines to hold the sacred city of Khazzad Bharush ur-Godall against the three living curses to our realm.¡±

    I vaguely recalled that a notification naming the place had blinded me at an inopportune moment when I¡¯d arrived. To me, the name seemed overly long and complicated. But the duergar said it with a natural rhythm, a flow that gave it a kind of majesty.

    I grunted, sticking the last bite of mushroom into my mouth. ¡°Sacred city¡­¡± I mused. ¡°Are you some sort of priest?¡±

    Magnuus stared at the pan, speared a small ball of the dark, chewy meat and held it out to me. I was more careful this time, but still snatched it greedily. ¡°A Gotrek,¡± he muttered. ¡°A holy warrior.¡±

    The meat was stringy and tough. Unlike the mushroom, it had a taste. Don¡¯t ask me for details. I swallowed my first bite out of obligation to my stomach and clenched my teeth against the flavor. Anything that tastes this bad must be good for me, I thought. Probably make me grow up big and strong like Magnuus. Considering I was already a foot and a half taller than the duergar, I wasn¡¯t holding my breath.

    ¡°What does a holy warrior want from me?¡± I asked, when my host seemed lost in the flames. ¡°What¡¯s stopping you from going home? You obviously know your way around the history. I¡¯m assuming you know your way around the tunnels, as well.¡±

    Magnuus scowled as he looked up. ¡°Obviously, elf.¡± He grimaced and glanced away. ¡°But I cannot return. Like the dwarves before them, the duergar have lost their way. Their deeplord, Vali, has given himself over to the same greed and indolence that took our dwarven cousins. I was¡­¡± He spat a harsh duergar word that I didn¡¯t catch. ¡°Exiled. Cast out. I would have been executed had I stayed.¡±

    I blinked. ¡°For what?¡±

    The duergar eyed me darkly and didn¡¯t answer. He spiked another ball of meat, glanced at Aleesi and grunted in her direction. Again, he used me as an intermediary to transfer the food. I guess his generosity didn¡¯t extend to directly handing the orc girl her meal. Which I supposed made sense, given his story. As far as he was concerned, it seemed, the orcs were a living plague brought down on his people by the gods themselves.

    Made me think of the mutants back home, how some of the doomsday cults had called them a divine punishment. Yeah¡­ I wouldn¡¯t be keen on breaking bread with a mutant, either. When the dwarf kept quiet, I tore another shred of meat with my teeth and chewed pensively.

    ¡°So why do you need me?¡± I sucked on a strand of the leathery stuff that got caught. ¡°Not much I can do about your whole¡­ exiled warrior deal.¡±

    The duergar frowned, like my commentary wasn¡¯t helpful. ¡°Undying make good allies.¡±

    There it was again, the title he kept using on me. ¡°What does that even mean?¡± I demanded. ¡°You keep calling me undying. I¡¯ve already died. I promise. At least once.¡± My mind snapped back to the wrenching, twisting pain in the Integration Pod.

    ¡°And yet here you are.¡± The warrior spread his hands. ¡°It is in the name. Undying are not impossible to kill. But you come back. Again and again.¡±

    I scowled. ¡°And you know this because¡­?¡±

    ¡°Years ago, Undying first came to our city. They were hired by our cousins, the greedy dwarves, to retake the holy citadel.¡± The hazy look came back to his deep brown eyes. ¡°They were fearsome, terrible foes. Now¡­¡± he shrugged and shook his head slightly. He met my gaze. ¡°You have not come to take my city away from me. And I would like to have a fearsome, terrible ally by my side.¡±

    I considered, chewing my inner cheek. Maybe Undying is what these people call humans integrated by way of the AvatR system? People entering Thorr¡¯un from outside? But that doesn¡¯t make sense. AvatR was only released a couple of years ago¡­ And Magnuus is telling it like it happened decades in the past. ¡°How many times do the Undying come back?¡±

    ¡°How should I know?¡± The duergar looked frustrated at the question. He seemed like one of those people who likes to flex their knowledge and grows irritated when they don¡¯t have all the answers. ¡°I am not Undying. However, I know that in the time of war I faced one Undying in combat seven times.¡±

    I blinked. Holy crap. ¡°And you¡­?¡±

    ¡°Seven times I slew him.¡±

    I crammed the last bite of meat into my mouth to stop me from blurting out something stupid. This duergar was one bad motherfucker. When I finally managed to swallow the chewy ball of shoe leather, I asked, ¡°How do you know that I¡¯m¡­ you know¡­ one of them? Undying?¡±

    I almost expected my host to frown again, but this time he actually chuckled. He gestured at me with his knife. ¡°It is written in your face. In your questions. You are not of this plane, this world, Jondalar.¡± It was the first time he¡¯d used my name, and it felt strangely¡­ normal. ¡°You are a stranger to Thorr¡¯un. Perhaps you are from¡­ Urth? Ert? That was the homeland one of the Undying claimed before we broke him on Turgem¡¯s Anvil.¡±

    I nodded slowly, not sure how much to give away. Also, I was trying to resist the urge to imagine what Turgem¡¯s Anvil might look like. ¡°And you¡¯d be willing to trust me? An alien in your world?¡±

    The duergar¡¯s eyes turned from me to Aleesi and back. The orc girl was laying back on the duergar¡¯s bedroll, her body having apparently giving up the fight against exhaustion. I guess brushing up with death really takes it out of you. ¡°I have already broken bread with a godless savage,¡± Magnuus grunted. He speared some meat and passed it to me. ¡°In light of this, an Undying is practically a brother.¡±

    My stomach rumbled as I glanced at Aleesi. I swallowed, gritted my teeth, and passed along the morsel of food. I didn¡¯t have much to say to Magnuus¡¯s comment, but the pale warrior continued.

    ¡°Besides. You have made a sacred promise to help me. I happen to know that Undying are bound to these oaths. These quests, as I believe you call them.¡±

    I grimaced. ¡°Find that out in another torture session?¡± Bound to quests? Hermes hadn¡¯t mentioned anything about that. Then again, the god hadn¡¯t told me much of anything before he threw me in the deep end.

    The duergar grinned, darkly. ¡°The Anvil can be quite persuasive.¡±

    I wouldn¡¯t consider myself squeamish, not after what I¡¯ve been through, but I hoped I never had occasion to see my new ally¡¯s Anvil. ¡°And you¡¯d trust me not to kill you in your sleep?¡±

    When I¡¯d first met Kyle, that had been one of my chief concerns. I may or may not have locked him in a closet every night for the first few weeks of our friendship. Just to be on the safe side. Because as far as most Survivors are concerned, the safe side is the only side. I had a place to stay, a small stockpile of supplies and some actual weaponry. People those days were killing for less.

    Now the ashen-skinned duergar chuckled. ¡°Do you know your way out of here?¡±

    I looked away, out over the edge of the bridge. ¡°Fair enough.¡± The darkness suddenly seemed to press in around me, the cold air heavy in my lungs. The glowing lights that had delighted me earlier seemed far away and alien. ¡°Fair enough...¡±

    I turned back. ¡°Any more food?¡± My stomach had stopped rumbling, but I knew that it was only momentarily satisfied. Like a small child, it would wake up in the middle of the night and decide to voice its displeasure.

    Magnuus sniffed. ¡°No.¡±

    I glanced down. The pan was empty. Abruptly, I realized that my host hadn¡¯t left a single bite of food for himself. Shit. I swallowed, felt like a dick, and wondered if this was my Charisma score of 7 coming out to play.

    Take a -5 modifier to general etiquette and social awareness.

    Magnuus had the frame of a bigger man, and the shadow he cast on the wall as he hunched over the flames was a fuller outline of his lesser figure. Like he used to be brawny and thick in the not too distant past, but hunger and survival had taken their toll. I recognized the look. It was a common one during the chaotic times, back home. When people had started to go hungry. Just before things got really bad.

    But despite his obvious need, the duergar had fed a ¡®godless savage¡¯ and a total stranger before himself. Truly, I didn¡¯t know what to make of him. I swallowed uncomfortably. I met the warrior¡¯s eyes. ¡°Thank you.¡± It was all I could say.

    The warrior¡¯s dark eyes sharpened. He sucked in a breath, like he was going to chastise me, then just dropped his shoulders. ¡°You have a lot to learn, Undying.¡±

    I had no response to that. I just shrugged. It was true.

    ¡°You¡¯ll take first watch.¡±

    Then, before I could ask how long before I could sleep, or what I should be watching for, my host rose from the fireside, stumped over to the nearest wall, and sat back. Nestled in a shadowy crook between the crumbling wall and a pile of rubble, with his heavy axe propped up against the stone beside him. His eyes glittered briefly in the dark, then his long nose dipped forward and his chin rested on his chest.

    I pushed myself to my feet. The small fire was burning low. The light of the blue and green and white-glowing plants was no brighter, but felt closer as I stared up. Far away, beyond my sight, the cavern ceiling doubtless arched like the curve of the heavens. Millions of tons of stone, probably, between me and the true vastness of the open sky. It was strange, though. For a moment, I could just pretend that it was there, close enough to touch.

    Just me and the sky. Alone.

    By the time I realized I wasn¡¯t alone, it was too late.

 Chapter 13

    The others were asleep. Magnuus whiffled a bit through his big nose. Aleesi sighed several times from her place on the bedroll, in ways that were quite¡­ distracting. Even Webster had curled up next to the orc girl and seemed passed out. Everyone was getting a chance to rest their exhausted, beat-up bodies but me.

    Of course.

    Who needs sleep? I grimaced. I can sleep when I¡¯m dead. But the old saying struck a little too close to home.

    I scanned the darkness warily.

    Nothing. Not that I¡¯d been given great instructions on what to watch out for. I blew out a breath and rolled my shoulders. Something I¡¯d learned back home: every waking minute can be turned to good use.

    I prioritized information, trying to wrap my head around Thorr¡¯un and this absurd situation. I didn¡¯t get a tutorial, apparently. And I¡¯d never really played videogames. But I had spent the last year absorbing staggering amounts of information. Languages. Science. Hunting. Everything I could in order to follow Kyle¡¯s instructions.

    If I was smart enough to figure out physics and chemistry in real life, I thought, I should be smart enough to figure out Gamernerd Fantasyland.

    After a couple minutes of practice, I started to get the hang of using those visual information blocks that tried to blind me whenever I was in a life-or-death scenario. A couple of thoughts pulled up the notifications I hadn¡¯t read yet. The ones I¡¯d been instinctively ignoring and brushing aside as they popped up.

    They read like a stilted summary of what had happened to me. My Thorr¡¯un CV.

    <hr>

    Uh-oh. Looks like you¡¯ve been bitten by a Giant Spider.

    You are Poisoned (Strong).

    You are Paralyzed.

    <hr>

    Strength and honor!

    You¡¯ve killed a Giant Spider (Level 2 Spider).

    You¡¯ve earned 150 xp!

    <hr>

    Mana dangerously low!

    Your Mana is rapidly approaching 0.

    <hr>

    By circle, star and staff!

    You¡¯ve aided the duergar Magnuus Thorgrimsbrekt in casting the healing spell [Duergar Gotrek ????] on Aleesi ????.

    You¡¯ve earned 100 xp!

    <hr>

    Mana dangerously low¡­?

    I checked under the Statistics tab in my character sheet. Mana: 1, it read, and I wondered what that meant.

    Magnuus had drained me like a battery in order to heal Aleesi, that much was obvious. But I had no frame of reference for how much power one point of mana represented. How much had I used in my attempt to stabilize the dying girl? I vaguely remembered my Mana score sitting at around 15 when I¡¯d first skimmed it. Was that a lot? Not very much? I had no way of knowing if curing Aleesi was a difficult task or an easy one. Apparently, as far as experience points went, it was about as difficult as killing a car-sized tarantula.

    Since my sheet was open anyway, I checked my Attributes again. Nothing seemed to have changed, which was probably normal. As I scanned down the list, I hesitated on the last entry.

    Luck: 17.

    How¡¯s that been working out for you? I frowned and blew out a sigh. In the moment, after what amounted to an incredibly unlucky day... I may have prioritized Luck a bit too highly. Especially given the fact that I had no idea what such a generically-named Attribute actually did.

    My frown deepened. Doubt I can change it now¡­

    Another survival skill: don¡¯t complain about the things you can¡¯t change. Work with them. Probably a general life skill, but especially appropriate when dealing with things like daily mutant encounters, dwindling food supply and the ghost of a past life that seems so close but is eternally out of reach. The lurking pain of dozens of poor choices would cripple you if you let it.

    I speak from experience.

    I brushed away the character sheet with another thought, imagining I was closing All Tabs in my Internet browser. It was odd how easily everything was coming to me. I almost didn¡¯t trust it. Things didn¡¯t come easily to me. Things came after me.

    Usually with lots of teeth.

    Speaking of which¡­ I reached down, fingers curling around the smooth metal shaft of my spear. I hefted it, staring down the long bar to the glinting spearhead. This, at least, I already knew how to use. Ironic, since my weapon was one of the only things to come with a relatively useful set of instructions.

    Thorn, I thought, remembering the lore block that had flashed in my face. Forged by a giant. For a hero.

    I wanted to laugh, hollowly. I didn¡¯t feel like a hero. I didn¡¯t feel like much of a survivor anymore, even. I certainly wasn¡¯t acting like it. My eyes went to the bedroll where Aleesi was sleeping. Saving the girl in the castle had been almost instinctive. I had seen someone about to be raped and I¡¯d tried to stop it. But after, in the spider¡¯s lair, I¡¯d helped her intentionally. And then I¡¯d flipped a coin with my untested magical prowess and nearly died trying to save her a third time. Back home, I had things under control. Here, chaos reigned. I was trying to make new choices, better decisions. I suppose, in some way, I was trying to turn over a new leaf. But I didn¡¯t understand the system. Nothing I knew seemed to apply, and the things I didn¡¯t know¡­ It was evident that those were the most important.

    I hefted the weapon and focused on it, imagining¡ª

    My fingers abruptly closed into a crumpled fist. I blinked. Circling around my middle finger was the cold, dark ring of twisted iron strands. Well¡­

    At least I knew how something down here worked.

    I looked around. Still nothing.

    With a groan, I shuffled to the wall of Magnuus¡¯s home and leaned back, sliding down to the floor. I realized, as I did, that I was still shirtless. Rough stone scratched my back. The pain was dull, though, distant. Maybe because I was dead on my feet with tiredness. Hunched on my heels, I turned the ring around and around on my finger.

    It made me think of another ring. A simple band of gold. Annie¡­ My chest ached.

    Don¡¯t complain about the things you can¡¯t change.

    I sniffed, felt the thick, hot mess of regret and pain that tried crawl up my throat and choke me. I settled back, pressed to the stone. My hands gripped each other tightly and my eyelids drifted down to slits. Only because I was tired. Definitely not because hot, angry, frustrated, helpless tears were prickling at my eyes.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    No matter how much I tried to figure everything out, I felt I was like one of those 250-piece LEGO sets that some 8-year-old had put together while only skimming the instructions. It might seem like everything was fitting together, but just wait¡­

    Everything was going to fall apart at the worst possible moment.

    My eyelids drifted lower.

    * * *

    It was the kind of sound you make when you¡¯re stumbling through the early morning dark, before you¡¯re quite awake, and you stub your toe. Maybe after a party night with friends, when there are beer cans and pizza boxes strewn about and even your own home has suddenly become a foreign landscape. Somewhere between a screech of pain, a strangled curse and a muffled shout of anger. Muffled, because your mate is still passed out on the couch and you¡¯re trying not to wake him. Or maybe that was all just in my head, my mind reaching for normalcy in a situation that no one would ever describe as ordinary.

    It was the sound of a goblin tripping over a broken teapot.

    My eyes flew open.

    I knew it was a goblin immediately, because for the first time since arriving something matched my expectation. Face like a bat, with a flat skull and wide, floppy ears. Black, beady eyes that gleamed as it snarled and spat at Magnuus¡¯s broken black kettle like a petulant child. When it snarled, its lips curled back to reveal a mouth full of jagged shark teeth. Between them, a long, slobbering tongue tasted the air.

    My feet scrambled on the stone. My sleep-filled eyes jumped, picking up the important details. Teeth. Slab of sharpened metal attached to a handle. A primitive machete? Fingertips like hooked talons. Teeth.

    A now-familiar text box unfurled over its head.

    <hr>

    Goblin Warrior

    Level 2 (Aberrant) Lurker

    <hr>

    Aberrant, I thought, searching my mental thesaurus as I ripped Thorn from my finger. I shoved myself off the wall. Isn¡¯t that like¡­ deviant? But I didn¡¯t have time to wonder about the goblin¡¯s deviant sexual behavior. Because beyond the creature, clambering over the lip of the bridge out of the thousand-foot crevasse was a swarm. They were rising like a tide, curled claws hooked into the stone, gripping with ease.

    The goblin choked, looked down and saw four feet of iron sticking out of its albino-pale chest. The other two feet were already beyond its field of vision. My booted heel came up and I kicked it off of Thorn, the spear heavy and strong in my hand.

    The goblin gurgled, flailing and cursing and dying. Its thin, knobby, stick legs kicked up. From its knees to its feet, its shins were far too long.

    I wasn¡¯t quite sure what to yell to sound the alarm, so I just yelled. And ran. The wrong direction, as was becoming my habit. Forward.

    The ambient light of the false stars never wavered around me but the air seemed to bend and warp. Things filtered to my eyes through a different lens. Enemy. Weapon. Target. A bat face with a hooked nose took Thorn through the eye as it peeked over the edge. Another one clambered up beside me, a shape in the corner of my fractured vision, and I wrenched the blade free in a spray of dark ichor. I kicked the second shape in the chest. It was nimble, swinging itself onto the ragged edge of the shattered arch with a gangly grace. It even managed a half-dodge, so the flat of my foot only caught a glancing blow to its narrow rib cage.

    Survival tip: Doing half of something counts for nothing.

    The goblin spun and twisted as it fell, screaming, into the depths. I didn¡¯t hear it for long. There were too many growling, spitting monsters leaping up over the broken stones all around me. I swung my spear like I was chopping trees and the heavy blade thunked into a neck, sticking. I ripped it back, jugular blood spraying like a hose as the goblin toppled. But there were a dozen more all around, stringy arms pulling them over the edge, hooked claws at the end of bony fingers wrapping around the hilts and handles of primitive weapons that hung from leather thongs on their backs.

    A sea of floating, bobbing text boxes.

    Goblin Warrior.

    Goblin Warrior.

    Goblin Warrior.

    Where the hell did these things come from? But the thought whipped past, along with a short, chopping sword that cut the air mere inches from my chest. My body was already evading, dodging before I even knew I needed to move. My feet went where I intended, despite the fog of sleep that clouded my brain, and my muscles twitched with unharnessed energy. It was a strange, alive sensation, and I didn¡¯t recognize it. My body was my own, but not quite. Like I was faster than I should be, more agile.

    Thorn speared through a gut and a wet, bloody cough erupted from the toothy mouth, staining shark teeth red. I tried to tear the weapon free but a gaunt hand dropped its short blade and wrapped around the shaft, resisting. The goblin snarled at me, veins standing out in its neck as it tried to stretch out and snap at me. It was pitifully far away. But its weight slowed my jabbing spear.

    ¡°Fuck!¡± I¡¯d gotten too close, the tide rising around me.

    My eyes twitched left, behind. A spear with a wicked stone point was drawn back, and I felt a surge of fear. Like my muscles were silently warning my brain they weren¡¯t fast enough.

    Only then there was a bellow. An axe cleaved down with a hollow thwock. It split the goblin¡¯s collarbone after a brief journey through its skull. Blood spattered across my face and I spat, shaking my head. White hair whipped around my eyes.

    ¡°Magnuus?¡± I shouted, my voice loud and grating over a sea of slavering goblin screeches.

    ¡°I told you to keep watch, elf!¡±

    Maybe it was odd timing, but that was the moment I decided I would give up on trying to correct the duergar about my race. Then again, maybe it was just neighborly. Someone who saves you from a shanking deserves a little leeway. My response was less adroit than my usual banter.

    ¡°Oops!¡±

    The axe swung again, severing a bony arm at the elbow and sending arm and associated stone-bladed hatchet spinning through the air. I grunted, whipped the skewered goblin from the end of my weapon. I sent the one gaunt figure stumbling into two more and knocked all three back like bowling pins. Clawed fingers ripped at the air in an attempt to keep climbing. There was nothing to climb three feet off the edge.

    ¡°Back!¡± The duergar¡¯s rumbling voice was a deep battle bellow, and a part of my mind filed it away for later reference. I mean, who doesn¡¯t want to sound like a badass while they¡¯re splitting skulls and planning a desperate retreat against overwhelming numbers? Because the numbers were overwhelming. I couldn¡¯t have said where they were all coming from ¡ª they must have been clinging to the underside of the bridge like barnacles ¡ª but the creatures kept on rising from the depths like a nightmare swarm of weaponized house elves.

    Even through the haze and blood mist, what struck me as odd were the tactics of the hunched, pale-skinned warriors. Most of them charged past Magnuus, dodging outside the range of his massive axe, just so they could come after me.

    I lashed out, blade punching through an open, slavering mouth. Or maybe I¡¯m just egotistical. Not everything is about me.

    Back seemed like the right direction.

    Oh shit. Especially now, as a monstrous goblinoid half again as large as its brethren vaulted the crumbling edge with ease. No primitive tools in its clawed grip. Just bristling spines six inches long, jagged fangs and a suicidal gleam of bloody red in its beady eyes. The goblin spread its jaws and screamed, spittle flying. It raised one bony finger, pointing dead-center at yours truly, and its smaller kindred sprang forward.

    Jondalar, out.

    I didn¡¯t bother to retreat with grace and style. I turned and sprinted. Luckily, it seemed that Magnuus had the same idea. The duergar was speeding toward the gaping door in the crumbling wall as fast as his short legs could carry him. Aleesi, however, was crouched by the remains of the fire, dark green skin flexing across her taut, athletic figure. The orc girl had the cooking knife in a reverse grip, fingers wrapped around the bone hilt with its three or four glittering inches of blade.

    Brave, I thought. But also stupid.

    Her eyes met mine. There was an instant of silent communication ¡ª Ah, you¡¯re awake and Weren¡¯t you supposed to keep watch? ¡ª and then she spun on her heel and dashed ahead of me. I guess that¡¯s one of the benefits of magic. No need for post-op bed rest.

    I flew through the doorway at a dead sprint, following my two companions. My booted feet scarcely seemed to touch the threshold. Down the arch of the bridge I followed them, toward the flat stone plain beyond. The slope made my legs churn even faster. A sudden flutter of anxiety in my stomach was quelled by the fluttering sound of wings. Webster swooped low over my head, chirping anxiously.

    Stupid cat, I thought with a glow of gratitude.

    I was beside the springing orc, her dead sprint making her body bounce in all the right ways. Like one of those fit jogger babes, from back when people ran to get in shape and not just to get away.

    Definitely the wrong time. I scowled at my Cro-Magnon brain and focused on following the squat figure of our duergar guide.

    A quick glance over my shoulder revealed a veritable river of goblins, a pale torrent that bottlenecked in the doorway as the creatures practically fought among themselves to chase us. I tripped over a broken cobblestone, somehow kept my feet, and sprinted ahead. The survivor part of my brain cursed my lack of focus. The insane part of my brain hoped Aleesi hadn¡¯t noticed. The logical part of my brain wondered where we could possibly be going.

    I had no idea where Magnuus was leading us, but the stocky warrior turned at the foot of the bridge and away from the only path I knew. As he trundled across the floor of the huge stone cavern, questions jockeyed for position at the forefront of my awareness.

    Another glance back. A desperate mob of scrambling pursuers.

    Where did they come from?

    Screeching, weapons aloft at the ends of stringy limbs. The low slap-slap-slap of dozens of pairs of bare feet.

    And why were they so into me?

 Chapter 14

    We ran.

    Three in a row. Short duergar warrior in swishing mail with a giant axe in one meaty fist. Athletic orc female in a loin cloth with a kitchen knife in her hands. And me. Tall half-elven figure, legs pumping and a wicked spear swinging alongside, wearing nothing but a pair of blood-spattered pants that fluttered against my legs and swashbuckler boots not designed for running.

    I wondered if parents here teach their children not to run with pointy objects.

    But there was no time for questions, no energy. My muscles burned from combat, several scrapes and slashes bleeding and pitter-pattering to the floor behind me. A convenient blood trail.

    The tunnel mouth gaped suddenly in front, then swallowed us. As the light of the glowing cavern walls disappeared, my vision switched from color to greyscale. Beside me, Aleesi slowed slightly, her hands reaching out like she was making sure she didn¡¯t barrel into anything.

    Could orcs see in the dark? I didn¡¯t know. But she seemed to be managing. I stuck close by, to catch her if she stumbled.

    And still we ran.

    Duergar aren¡¯t built for running. But luckily, neither are goblins. The few glances I threw back after our escape into the tunnels revealed no enemies in sight. But still they followed, piercing war cries bouncing down the halls after us and jacking my heartrate through the roof.

    Unlike the worming passageways that had led us to the huge cave above, these ones seemed chiseled from the stone, civilized and intentional in their design. The floor was worn smooth, the turns were made into forks in the passage. The ceilings were tall, arched up above, and wide. Designed for heavy traffic, or built by the hands of builders who were larger than life. I couldn¡¯t tell if the duergar knew where he was going, but Magnuus took each turn without hesitation. We hit a ramp, my feet leaving the floor for a moment in a long bound.

    I stumbled, slamming into the wall at a T-junction. I bruised my shoulder, cursed, shoved myself off, kept running. But my momentary hesitation gave me a chance to shoot a look at the woman running alongside me. And her expression, even in the shadowy greyscale darkness, confused me.

    Because unless I missed my guess, she looked¡­ Excited.

    Abruptly, the walls peeled back around us and we heaved and wheezed into another open space. To be fair, Magnuus heaved and wheezed. Aleesi seemed winded. And me¡­ I was confused. My heart was beating fast, I knew. And my long, pale hair was plastered to the sides of my face with sweat. My feet hurt like the devil, chafed and raw. But for some reason¡­ I felt like I could go on forever.

    How long had we been running? Twenty minutes? Thirty? Time blended together in the darkness and the adrenaline and the unremarkable stone tunnels. The echoing screeches of our pursuers had faded, but it might have just been a trick of the rock.

    I padded up behind Magnuus. ¡°Why are we stopping?¡± But as I left the confines of the tunnel mouth and joined him by the heavy stone balustrade, I saw. I saw more stone stairs leading down and another crevasse to be crossed. It was spanned by a stone bridge, flat and narrow, not so big as the one we¡¯d left. This bridge, however, was different from Magnuus¡¯s in two important ways.

    First, it was complete. Good.

    Second, it was already occupied. Very not good.

    They carried torches. And there were a lot of them. Halfway across the bridge, a single file line of dark, hulking figures. I could see glinting weapons in hand, the rough outlines of primitive armor. My human eyes would have been practically sightless, even with the torches. My new eyes could pick out more detail. They were all tall, broad-shouldered, obscenely muscular. Like a pack of Conans with dark skin and pale eyes that glittered with fierce energy.

    I wasn¡¯t surprised by their appearance.

    Orcs.

    Magnuus and I were frozen in place, which only made it more startling when Aleesi sprang forward. She waved her arms over her head, voice breaking the air. A shout of greeting. A dozen heads snapped our way, weapons bristling. Then, looks of confusion. One of the front-runners took several steps forward, sliding a long-hafted hammer from his belt and into one big hand. He called out, raising his torch.

    The duergar cursed softly beside me.

    I glanced down. His eyes were wide and his expression agitated. He looked over his shoulder, back the way we¡¯d come.

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    He scowled darkly. ¡°Fucking savages¡­¡± His voice was low, his accent thick with emotion. Anger? Hatred? ¡°For nothing¡­ All for nothing¡­¡± I realized, a second later, that it might be fear. The implacable duergar was shaken. Cornered.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Aleesi, meanwhile, had called out in reply. She dashed down the stairs, descending through the darkness toward the circle of light. The other orcs were hastening now, more quickly, arriving on our side of the crevasse as our companion reached the bottom of the stairs.

    I hesitated. ¡°What do we do?¡± Part of me wanted to follow Aleesi, wanted to trust her and the group who seemed known to her. I¡¯d saved her, right? From the spiders. And we¡¯d escaped the duergar fortress together. The young woman slid to a stop, throwing her arms around the massively-built orc in front.

    The top of her head came to his mid-chest. Oh crap. He must be big.

    Magnuus grumbled into his beard. He shifted his feet. I couldn¡¯t tell what he was thinking. Then, behind us, the reverberating echo of a screech. The ricocheting noise of clattering weapons and snarling animals. The sounds of pursuit. Growing closer.

    ¡°Fuck those things are persistent¡­¡± I growled.

    ¡°They can smell you.¡±

    ¡°What?!¡±

    The duergar looked up at me, face slashed by his deep frown. ¡°Didn¡¯t you see? Those are no ordinary grimmlin. Something happened. They are touched by chaos. They can smell you, the¡­ outsider. From another plane. Undying. And it drives them mad with hunger.¡± His voice was low and cold and terse, like he was restraining himself from saying more, louder, angrier.

    I made an executive decision. Survival, in the end, is often about choosing the least dangerous alternative between two frightening options. Green-skinned tribe of bodybuilder barbarians was an easy choice over the ravening horde of twisted monsters.

    And besides, Webster liked Aleesi, didn¡¯t he? The microgriffon had landed, scrabbling briefly with his tiny claws on the stone parapet before drawing his feet beneath him and looking down. His eyes glinted, reflecting the torchlight. That had to count for something.

    I swallowed, hefted my spear. ¡°I¡¯m going down,¡± I told Magnuus. ¡°Hope you come with.¡± Then, I jogged down the stairs after the orc woman. Behind me, the duergar swore again, fiercely.

    My eyes were still adjusting to the flickering torchlight as I approached, willing my spear to disappear and holding my empty hands out wide. ¡°Hello!¡± I called, doubting they¡¯d understand but hoping my voice was pitched with the appropriate note of Please I¡¯d prefer if you didn¡¯t kill me.

    The tense bunching up of the group and their raised weapons indicated appropriate caution, but none of the warriors broke ranks ¡ª or tried to break me ¡ª as I arrived inside the wavering perimeter of illumination. Aleesi stood in front, with the fighter she¡¯d greeted. Her expression was tense but not angry, her eyes shining feverishly. She gestured urgently for me to come closer, saying something in her language.

    I heard the gentle clatter of claws that meant Webster had swooped in beside me, and the cat-sized microgriffon followed me into the light. It was intimidating to approach, but I steeled myself and put one foot in front of the other. Up close, the warriors were all at least half a foot taller than me, with physiques almost cartoonishly proportioned. They had heavy features, jutting jaws with longer versions of the curving lower canines that I¡¯d first noticed on Aleesi. Their arms were big around as my thighs and their legs were like tree trunks. They looked quite different from the smaller, slighter female. Especially by contrast, the girl¡¯s features were finer, more delicate, her proportions smoother and more¡­ human.

    Now, though, her face was tight with worry. She glanced past me, up into the dark, like she was looking for our third companion.

    I shook my head. We couldn¡¯t worry about the duergar. He was in or he was out, but for now he was on his own. Racism can be a bitch like that. ¡°We don¡¯t have time,¡± I said urgently. I pointed back the way we¡¯d arrived, stabbing my finger toward the tunnel. ¡°They¡¯re coming!¡±

    The girl didn¡¯t understand my words, but she obviously understood my meaning. She turned to her protector, who loomed large behind her shoulder. The hammer in his hand was long and heavy. It looked more than capable of crushing my skull, and the owner had an expression like he hadn¡¯t decided whether or not to use it. A hand on one bulging bicep and a few soft, gentle words from Aleesi made him grunt and scowl up into the darkness as well, sniffing his broad, flat nose.

    Can they smell the goblins? I wondered. Magnuus¡¯s story last night had made it sound like the orcs and goblins and spiders had all come together with the sole purpose of screwing over the duergar race. But if the orcs¡¯ obvious discomfort was genuine then it seemed the groups were less friendly than I¡¯d been led to believe.

    I wondered what this group was. Some sort of hunting party? They seemed too heavily armored. A war band? But going where¡­? And how did they know the young orc woman?

    I hesitated a few feet away. My eyes went from Aleesi¡¯s blue orbs to the dark, harsh expression of the warriors around her. I swallowed again. ¡°So¡­¡± I said. ¡°How are we going to do this?¡±

    The girl paused, glanced past me again, then said something to the warrior. He scowled at me, shook his head. Uh-oh. She seemed to consider, then proposed something else. The orc stared down at me.

    After a long, silent second, he jerked a quick nod, then turned. He shoved the handle of the hammer back into his belt, which seemed like a good thing, then strode through the rest of the party. The young woman gestured for me to follow, murmuring in the kind of soothing voice you use with a frightened animal.

    That was great for my ego.

    I had taken half a dozen steps into the group when my spidey senses tingled. Fuck.

    My reflexes were fast, faster than they¡¯d ever been as a human. But the gigantic bicep that snaked under my chin was thick as a python and felt three times as strong. I struggled, feet kicking. I tried to headbutt behind me, and I felt a solid thud as my skull connected with a mound of muscle.

    No reaction. The huge orc behind me probably didn¡¯t even feel it.

    What! Why? No! My thoughts jumbled as I wheezed out a soft cry. Strangely, I felt soft fingertips then, brushing down the side of my cheek, pushing wild hair from my eyes. I blinked. My sight began to blur.

    Was that Aleesi¡¯s face?

    Of course, that was when a helpful notification obscured my darkening vision. I no longer had the presence of mind to brush it away.

    <hr>

    Warning! You cannot breathe!

    Without an air supply, you will begin to suffocate.

    <hr>

    No shit¡­

    That was my last thought before darkness closed in around my vision. The last thing I heard, though, before my senses left me, was a gruff voice calling out in angry Dwarvish.

    ¡°Don¡¯t touch my elf, you heathens!¡±

 Chapter 15

    I didn¡¯t know what to expect from the whole Undying thing.

    A quick trip to Thorr¡¯un heaven before they saw I had an automatic pass to reincarnation? Maybe a little witty banter when the Grim Reaper came to collect my soul and then realized that I was off limits? I had definitely expected it to feel a lot less like a hangover.

    At least, if I was dead. I began to suspect that I wasn¡¯t, because my head hurt. And as far as I knew death didn¡¯t hurt. After the dying part, of course.

    I extended my senses, trying to figure out what had woken me. I didn¡¯t open my eyes. Opening your eyes usually means light. And light doesn¡¯t feel so good on hangover eyes. My ears twitched ¡ª still a weird sensation ¡ª picked up the gentle, recognizable clatter of a bowl and utensils being placed on a stone floor. My nose caught the wafting scent of something rich and warm ¡ª definitely not shoe-leather meat and old mushrooms. It was a soothing way to wake, especially given the violence of my departure from consciousness. I didn¡¯t trust it. After all, trust was what had gotten me into this mess.

    I groaned, loudly, remembering. I can¡¯t believe I¡¯d trusted that goddam¡ª

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re awake.¡±

    My eyes flew open and I sat up so quickly I banged my head on the rocky ceiling of my sleeping nook. ¡°Fucking shitting shit!¡± My eyes screwed up in pain and I clutched at my forehead, cursing harshly.

    ¡°Watch out! Easy easy¡­¡± The voice was close, soft and warm. Concerned. Most importantly, the voice was recognizable. I felt a hand on my arm and forced my eyes open to confirm what my ears were already telling me. Despite the pain lancing through my head, my vision was working fine. And by the light of two guttering torches I could see Aleesi¡¯s worried face close to mine.

    The orc girl was crouched by the side of my bed, which felt soft and warm under my body. One hand rested on the top edge of the smoothly-chiseled cubby that I¡¯d been lying inside. The other was on my shoulder, easing me back down until I was flat on my back. I opened my mouth to speak, to say something angry and biting and witty.

    I can understand you.

    The realization hit me like a train and stunned me silent.

    ¡°Easy, Jondalar¡­¡± Aleesi was murmuring gently, the same tone she¡¯d used to lure me into the clutches of her traitorous tribe. ¡°There you go. Just lay back. Calm down. You¡¯re safe here¡­¡±

    You want to see calm? I opened my mouth to retort. Then stopped. Closed it. In a game of Survival, information was power. I couldn¡¯t trust her. And this was no game. I swallowed. Carefully now¡­

    ¡°Where am I?¡± I asked. I¡¯d been on language autopilot since arriving, but I very intentionally focused my tongue and spoke in the gruff, rolling syllables that I now knew were Dwarvish. ¡°What¡¯s going on? What did you do to me? Why did you attack me? Are we safe?¡± I tried to channel disorientation and panic, knowing that Aleesi couldn¡¯t understand a word I was saying. It wasn¡¯t hard.

    I was disoriented. And I was most certainly on the verge of a major panic attack.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry¡­¡± The orc girl¡¯s palm was cool and soothing on my forehead. I could feel her brushing back my hair and I relaxed in spite of myself. It had been so long since I¡¯d felt a human touch. Or even a nonhuman one¡­

    I took several deep breaths and then focused, calling to mind my character sheet. Like it had been summoned, the scrolling text popped into my vision. It flickered, then blinked to the section I¡¯d been trying to recall.

    <hr>

    Abilities

    Linguist: You have an ear for language and a gift for piecing together dialect. If you hear or read a language every day for three days, you will gain the ability to speak, read and write the language with conversational fluency. If you hear, read and speak a language every day for thirty days, you will gain the ability to speak, read and write the language with native fluency.

    ¡­

    <hr>

    ¡°That¡¯s good, Jondalar. I¡¯m glad you have finally awakened. You¡¯ve been asleep for some time.¡±

    I stopped reading and flicked the sheet away.

    I¡¯ve been in Thorr¡¯un for three days¡­ It didn¡¯t seem real, and my mind slashed back through my memories, cobbling together a choppy highlight reel.

    I arrived in a castle bedchamber. Saw some dangly duergar dick. Heard Aleesi snarling at her captors. Out the window we went. Did a quick Do Thorr¡¯un spider bites turn you into Thorr¡¯un Spiderman? check. They do not. I had no idea how long I¡¯d been hanging suspended in the spider¡¯s pantry, but then Magnuus arrived. Fight sequence. I carried a curvy fantasy babe to safety like a total boss. Was Aleesi¡¯s drugged-out mumbling enough to trigger the ability? Saved the fantasy babe by teaming up with duergar cult magic. Another fight sequence. More running. Fantasy babe talks me into being a total fool. Fantasy henchman takes me out with some sort of UFC-style rear naked choke. After that¡­

    Vague recollections flickered through my mind. A jouncing journey, upside down, arms and legs flopping. I was too disoriented to do anything but pass out again, my body exhausted and shocked and out of commission.

    Three days¡­ The realization struck me again. Time was different down here. No sun. No moon. No clocks. I had lost all ability to keep track of time. Or maybe, born into a world dominated by smart phones and digital timepieces, I¡¯d never really had that ability in the first place.

    ¡°I brought you something to eat.¡±

    The mention of food made my stomach rumble, and I blinked back to outer awareness. I sat up slowly as Aleesi stood. She bent, picked something up from the floor, and came back. I watched her, the torchlight giving her figure a dangerously fascinating outline. To my surprise, she wore something not too dissimilar from what I¡¯d roughly fashioned out of spider silk. A simple loin cloth of white leather with a fringe of long, white strands that swished around her legs when she moved. A band of pale cloth across her chest that stretched to accommodate her breasts, a similar tasseled border that only covered enough to draw attention to her smooth abs.

    The girl held the bowl out to me as my bare feet hit the floor. The stone was smooth and flat, like tile. The bowl was full of some sort of stew. Thick and rich. I was too hungry not to eat. Three days and all I¡¯d eaten were a couple seared mushrooms. The stew was delicious. Brown broth, with little bits of meat and something that crunched like a parsnip or carrot between my teeth.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± I mumbled in Dwarvish. It was all I had time to say in the span it took the carved spoon to enthusiastically travel between my mouth and the bowl and back.

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± Aleesi answered in her own language.

    It was strange, knowing that social pleasantries didn¡¯t need to be translated to be understood. But I didn¡¯t ponder it. I ate, thinking that Aleesi must be Thorr¡¯un¡¯s Gordon Ramsay. Or maybe I was just hungry.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for what we did to you.¡± The orc girl sat back on the floor several feet away, her knees curled up to her chest. She hugged them. It made her look strangely¡­ uncertain. ¡°It was the only way Bulgan would consider bringing strangers back to the haavun.¡±

    Odd, I thought. The word hit my ears and jumbled as my internal translator tried to find a word to match. It came down somewhere between tribe, home and city, with several associated emotions tied into it. Shoveling food into my mouth was good, not just because I was hungry. It was hard to resist the instinctive desire to respond in conversation. A spoon in the mouth stifles the urge.

    The girl scowled, then gave me a worried look. ¡°Please do not be angry with me, Jondalar. I truly believe it was the only way. Behind my people¡¯s walls we are safe from the bogaddah.¡±

    My translator whirred between my ears. Small, sneaky, vicious, twisted race. I guess Magnuus was wrong. Orcs and goblins really didn¡¯t get along. Speaking of Magnuus¡­ I had a vague memory of the duergar¡¯s angry voice calling out in the dark. My thoughts jumped.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Magnuus?¡± I asked, raising my eyebrows at the girl. And then a bolt of worry. ¡°Webster?!¡± Strange, I thought. I¡¯ve never really cared about animals before.

    Names were safe. They wouldn¡¯t give anything away.

    ¡°Webster¡­¡± Aleesi smiled, gestured toward a huge stone door in the far wall. ¡°I know not where you found such a marvelous pet,¡± she continued, ¡°but I like it very much.¡± I didn¡¯t answer, and she examined my face carefully.

    Aleesi¡¯s eyes grew uncertain. ¡°Magnuus¡­¡± She paused, then shook her head.

    I couldn¡¯t tell if she meant he was dead or that she couldn¡¯t tell me, and I had to clench my jaw to keep from asking. I could sense there was something she wanted to say. ¡°I wish we spoke the same tongue, Jondalar. You seem a good man. Worried for your friends, even though you know not what has befallen you.¡±

    A good man¡­ I almost snorted in amusement. Not something people back home would have called me. If there were people left, back home¡­ But I did nothing, just swallowed.

    ¡°I saw you fight the bogaddah,¡± the young woman continued. ¡°It seems you are a brave warrior. A strong fighter. And yet stupid. Clueless. Unlike anyone I know here. You are strange in so many ways.¡±

    Clueless¡­ I thought. Maybe because I thought that doing the right thing for once wouldn¡¯t just fuck me over. My spoon clattered at the bottom of an empty bowl. I found my hands with nothing to do. Luckily, I wasn¡¯t the one in charge. Aleesi pushed herself to her feet, fringed outfit swaying.

    When I glanced up into her face, I could see her rolling her eyes. ¡°Males,¡± she muttered, shaking her head. Her hair had been redone, intricate braiding that fell down one side of her face. ¡°I swear that Urg sired you all the same. And here I thought we were having a moment.¡± She held out her hand.

    I blinked. I handed her the bowl.

    Aleesi snorted and shook her head. She bent, set the bowl on the floor, and held out her hand again.

    Oh. I took it, glancing away. Her palm was cool and smooth as she pulled me to my feet.

    ¡°Come.¡± She accompanied the word with a gesture. ¡°It is time to go before the Juunta and decide what is to be done with you.¡±

    * * *

    Aleesi snagged the torch on our way out, pushing on the stone door with her free hand.

    I was watching carefully, but couldn¡¯t see a handle, a lock, or even a keyhole. The door was big, built for people half again as tall as any human. It swung open easily. As we passed through, I realized that the stone must be at least a foot thick but my guide hadn¡¯t seemed to push with even the smallest effort.

    And then we were outside.

    The sound hit me first, and my heartrate immediately tripled. My eyes twitched, left and right. My breath came fast between my lips. People. Dozens of them, hundreds. Nearby. It was the sound of a living city, something I hadn¡¯t experienced in¡­ a while. Only instead of car horns, blasting radios and lively Spanish chatter, I heard the clank of weapons, the rattle of wood on stone and rolling voices calling out in the flowing, guttural tongue I was beginning to think might be¡­

    Orcish¡­?

    The smell came next, sitting in the still air. Harsh and hard, the scent of unwashed bodies. I may have visibly flinched at the overwhelming stimuli, because Aleesi looked back with concern. Her hand grabbed at my wrist and pulled me closer. I felt the heat of the torch on my face. Despite the assault on my senses, though, we were almost alone. A high wall surrounded the courtyard where we stood, torches lighting a path to our right past the shapes of tall, regularly-spaced buildings. We seemed to be at one end of a long compound.

    The young woman looked up into my face. ¡°Easy, Jondalar.¡± The coaxing voice again. ¡°Come on. Just follow me.¡± She pulled me along and I followed numbly, battling the instinct to tear free and run.

    Where would I go, if I ran? We were still in the dark. Deep below the earth. The air had the same weight, and the feeling of pressure hadn¡¯t left. Like millions of tons of stone were pressing down over my head. It was hot, too, several degrees warmer than comfortable. I glanced back at the building we¡¯d left, and stopped stock still.

    I had been sleeping in a giant tomb.

    The mausoleum was at least twenty feet tall, the door we¡¯d come through proportional to the high walls and the wide front. Over the door, chiseled into the marble lintel, was a line of angular runic script that I felt like I should be able to read, but couldn¡¯t.

    What the hell¡­? I froze long enough for my arm to yank taut. I stumbled after Aleesi, who didn¡¯t look back.

    ¡°Come on¡­¡± she grumbled. ¡°We¡¯ll be late.¡±

    Where the fuck are we? I followed my captor, focusing on breathing. My pulse pounded in my temples, my eyes picking out details as we marched down a ruler-straight path. The row of buildings we passed ¡ª tall, rectangular, evenly-spaced ¡ª were all the same as mine. All tombs. All with similar carvings over the doors or along the walls beside the entrance.

    On the other side of the wall, the sounds of the city grew louder as we marched deeper into the compound. We began to pass groups headed in the other direction, several of which seemed like patrols. The orcs, skin the color of dark green algae shining in the torchlight, all stood aside for us. Unlike the group we¡¯d first met, none of these soldiers were wearing armor, just knotted cloths around their waists and various belts or webbings to hang their weapons.

    I realized why as I began to sweat. It was hot down here.

    I had a million questions, but breathing seemed more important. The warm air stuck in my throat, and I wanted to growl at myself to get my shit together. But I also didn¡¯t want to show any weakness. My free hand clenched, fingernails digging into my palm, while Aleesi pulled me along by my other wrist. Then, rising out of the gloom ahead, I saw our destination.

    It stood at the end of the row of huge tombs, a wide, low building with fluted columns out front. It was built of the same huge slabs of white stone as the mausoleums, but the walls were covered in chiseled writing. It flowed in a waterfall down the sides, uninterrupted. We walked up the broad front steps, past a pair of guards carrying tall, wicked-looking spears with leaf-shaped blades. They made me remember Thorn, and I was relieved to see the ring on the finger of my free hand.

    Not entirely defenseless, at least. My mind began to contort, trying to formulate some kind of plan, but I stopped it. Wait, I told myself. Get where you¡¯re going. Analyze. Then act.

    Through the front door. Again, larger than life. Built to impress, or for someone impressively big. The entry hall beyond felt like the lobby of an expensive apartment building that had spent several hundred years uninhabited. Give my home back on earth a couple centuries, and it might feel something like this. Another pair of stone double doors up ahead, these ones closed. I heard sounds beyond, and I swallowed. It was the rumble of a crowd.

    More guards, whose dark eyes flicked to me before bowing their heads respectfully at Aleesi¡¯s approach. They pulled the portals open.

    On the other side of these doors, a mob.

    I froze as the sound hit me, my feet rooting themselves to the tiled floor. Aleesi yanked but I didn¡¯t move. So many¡­

    A hundred orcs, at least, milling about in the middle of a tall, square atrium. They grumbled and rustled, weapons clinking at every hip or on every broad, muscular back. Male and female both, athletic figures that melded together into a single, frightening, undulating mass. The roof disappeared overhead, and the smoke of dozens of torches drifted away like the souls of escaping ghosts.

    My guide yanked again. ¡°Come on,¡± she growled, definitely impatient now.

    Abruptly, I felt the prick of something sharp against my lower back. I sucked in a breath, flinching forward. Over my shoulder, I saw one of the two guards had leveled his spear. He stared at me impassively with dark eyes. His jaw was set, though, and I could see his big hands were tight on the shaft of his weapon.

    I followed Aleesi on her next tug.

    The crowd pulled back as they noticed our entrance, people nodding respectfully to my captor. To me, they gave me only dark, inscrutable looks. Murmurs swept through the tight-packed crowd as we passed, blending together in a menacing undertone. In the center of the atrium, down several broad, shallow steps, was a large square block of stone, and the alley formed by green-skinned bodies led us right to it. Unlike the smooth, white and silver-veined marble floor, this stone was a stark grey.

    ¡°Stay here.¡± Aleesi dragged me to the stone and pushed me toward it. She seemed to have grown impatient with me, and wouldn¡¯t meet my eyes when I looked into her face. I sat on the edge, curling my bare toes into the stone floor, realizing I¡¯d woken up without my boots.

    On all sides, the crowd came to a hush.

    Shit shit shit shit. My jaw tightened and I gripped the edge of the block tightly. I was the center of attention. And I did not like it. I wondered how long it had been since I¡¯d seen so many people in one place. I¡¯d never been much for big group events, parties and the like, but this wasn¡¯t a party. And the mood was not festive. Strange, alien faces melded together in a wavering mirage. There was a space of half a dozen feet on all sides, but I felt like the mob was close enough to touch. Then, I looked beyond the crowd. Above them.

    On each side of the open space, a pedestal rose five or six feet in the air. I craned my neck to look around, clambering up onto my stone seat. The pedestals weren¡¯t empty. They were occupied by frightful figures, looming over the gathered crowd. Rough, tribal masks hid their faces.

    On the platform across from the entrance stood a massive male even more built than the rest of the musclebound warriors. His mask was oval-shaped, pointed at the bottom in a long triangle. To his right, a female. Her hair was dark and long, braided in dreadlocks that fell all the way down her back. A round mask completely hid her expression. The masks looked like they were made of wood, or even stone, carved with simple eye and mouth holes. Another male, this one¡¯s mask with two curved horns, stood on a pedestal we¡¯d walked right beneath when we entered. He crossed his arms, forearms corded and bulging.

    What on Earth is going on?

    When I looked back down to ask my guide, though, Aleesi was gone. Disappeared into the crowd while my back was turned. Crap. I might not trust the girl, but she was the only character I knew in this alien theatre. And this was the second time she¡¯d abandoned me.

    Then, a hush settled over the murmuring mob as the massive male at the head of the room spoke. I turned back to face him as his deep, hollow voice filled the packed atrium.

    ¡°The Juunta is complete. The People are gathered. It is time to address the matters at hand. It is time to question. It is time to condemn.¡±

    I tried to steel my nerves, but my stomach did a flip flop maneuver like a fish out of water.

    What the hell had I gotten myself into?

 Chapter 16

    I stood in the center of a mob of orcs, waiting on the wire of silence that was growing more and more taut with every passing second. A single line, declared in the commanding voice of a seasoned leader, played on loop in my mind.

    It is time to condemn¡­ It is time to condemn¡­ It is time to condemn¡­

    I shifted my weight, and watched.

    The tall, broad-shouldered figure spoke again, and the natural murmuring of a waiting crowd ceased instantly. There was an almost religious reverence to their attentive focus, an intensity that I could feel filling the atrium. His voice was smooth and even, but I started to realize that the words were a formula. Some sort of ritual. They bounced around strangely in my body, the sound making my bones want to vibrate.

    ¡°The People cannot see through their veil of troubles, through the dust of the world. Who will see for the People?¡±

    All attention turned to the female on his right, and when she spoke her voice was raspy. ¡°Reh, the Far Eyes, will See for the People.¡± She tossed her head, long dreadlocks swaying. Her voice carried over the heads of the crowd, strangely melodic despite its roughness. ¡°The People cannot fight through the mass of foes, through the battles of the world. Who will fight for the People?¡±

    The horn-masked warrior spreading his arms as the crowd looked to him.

    ¡°Banku, the Swift Spear, will Fight for the People.¡± He hit his chest with one fist, pausing a moment longer than the older woman. Then, he cleared his throat. ¡°The People,¡± he hesitated, then plowed on. ¡°The People cannot love their foes, cannot win the hearts of strangers through the fear of this world. Who will love for the People?¡±

    I turned with the crowd, entranced.

    The slim figure of a second female stood opposite the other, older woman. Her mask was diamond-shaped, simple and bare. Her hands were at her sides. Her white-fringed loincloth swayed around lithe legs. ¡°Zeni, the First Cycle, will Love for the People.¡± Her voice was full of pride as her mask turned back toward the first male in his long mask. ¡°The People cannot see through the dust, fight through the battles, or love their foes in the chaos of this world. Through the chaos, who will lead for the People?¡±

    ¡°Urg, the Stone Fire, will Lead for the People.¡± The mask barely moved as the voice behind it boomed forth, and there was a pause as the crowd waited. I could feel something electric in the air, the pressure reaching a fever pitch.

    Then, as one, the crowd around me stamped their feet.

    Thud.

    It was the termination, a resounding period.

    ¡°My friends¡­¡± And the feeling of tension ebbed, slightly, like the moment of heightened awareness had passed. The orc¡¯s voice was still deep and powerful, but it didn¡¯t punch me in the chest like it had a moment before. ¡°The People have called the Juunta, have brought forth the Four. And now, we stand ready to serve. To see, to fight, to love and to lead. These are dark times. You do not need me to tell you. The bogaddah are growing bolder, wilder. The naathul spin their webs and breed in our hunting grounds. And the zumagi press deeper with their patrols. Their most recent attack took our Zeni on her return from the Imzo Rhothu, a fate she only barely escaped.¡±

    I swallowed, and tried to follow along. Luckily, this masked speaker¡¯s words had drawn the attention away from me. At the same time, I had no idea what he was talking about.

    ¡°It was only thanks to the actions of an outsider that Zeni was able to break free from the zumagi clutches, and now we bring this outsider before us.¡±

    Oh. I felt the weight of a hundred stares as all eyes turned back to me. Okay... I felt the spinning tumblers in my head, slowly clicking into place. But wait, who is Zeni¡­? Is that Aleesi¡¯s real name? Is it some sort of title? I hesitated, hoped they didn¡¯t expect me to speak. Then, I remembered I wasn¡¯t supposed to understand anything they were saying, anyway.

    The leader continued. ¡°As you all know, outsiders are rare. Outsiders are dangerous. We must weigh this matter carefully before we decide what to do with him.¡± He turned to the older woman. ¡°What thinks Reh?¡±

    The circular mask turned slowly toward me. I felt as if, despite the twenty or thirty feet that separated us, the female was close enough to touch. She leaned down, like she was examining a bug. I hoped I was the kind of bug you watch for a minute and then allow to fly away, and not the kind that makes you scream and grab the nearest large, heavy, smashing object.

    A moment of intense silence.

    ¡°I can smell him.¡±

    I blinked. What?

    ¡°His soul is bright,¡± the woman continued, standing straighter again. ¡°I can smell him and with the Sight I can see his glow. He is more than an outsider. He is not of this world. And the presence of his kind is what so riles the bogaddah.¡±

    They can smell you. Magnuus¡¯s voice resonated in my mind as I wrestled with what the woman was saying. They can smell you, the outsider¡­ And it drives them mad with hunger. I swallowed again. It hurt. My throat was scratchy. Around me, a buzzing murmur was rising in the crowd.

    Like another type of bug. A bee. A lot of them. When they get angry. I needed to come up with a plan. But what? How?

    Assets¡­ I tried to think, but all I could come up with was the ring on my finger. One spear against this mob? Yeah right.

    ¡°Then we give him to the creatures!¡± I turned to identify the voice that cut through the clamor, and saw the younger warrior spreading his feet on his platform and pointing at me with one thick, condemning finger.

    What was his name? Banksy? Or something¡­?

    ¡°The People have no need for strangers. Give him to the bogaddah, and we will crush them when they are distracted.¡±

    There were murmurs of agreement from the crowd. Nodding heads.

    Live bait, I thought. I remembered long, sharp claws and shark teeth. No thank you¡­ What to do? What to do?

    ¡°No!¡± The younger woman, Aleesi or Zeni or whatever her name was, drew the attention of the mob. ¡°The outsider does not know the ways of our world. He is strange, and uncertain, but brave. He aided my escape, even at the risk to his own life. He saved me from the webs of the naathul. Is betrayal and death how Banku rewards his allies?¡±Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    Who are you? I wanted to ask the girl. Some sort of religious figure? A priestess?

    But the questions would have to wait, because my eyes bounced back like I was following an intense tennis match. Or one of those ping pong games between two incredibly intense Asian competitors.

    The warrior growled softly, crossing his arms. ¡°I want only to bring an end the bogaddah, the naathul and the zumagi. That is my purpose. As you know.¡±

    ¡°By sending your Zeni¡¯s rescuer to his demise?¡±

    ¡°I do not see how¡ª¡±

    ¡°That is enough.¡± The voice of the leader cut through the warrior¡¯s sulking tone. The necks of the crowd swiveled. ¡°Urg has heard your words, and will make his decision.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°Banku will be silent, and will cease wearing on his father¡¯s patience.¡±

    I glanced back, saw the warrior bow his head deferentially. ¡°Yes, Father.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± The lead figure seemed to sigh, and then continued. ¡°We must remember that no outsider is the cause of our struggles. The People¡¯s hardships have been growing for some time. What say you, Juunta?¡±

    And so it went.

    The four debated things I didn¡¯t understand, the crowd following their back-and-forth with bated breath. I didn¡¯t quite follow, but I began to see a pattern. The masked orc in the front acted as judge and arbitrator. The older woman seemed like some sort of¡­ seer? A medicine woman, perhaps? The younger fighter was evidently a war leader. And Zeni, or Aleesi, played the role of diplomatic advisor.

    But why? What was this whole charade with the masks and the pedestals and the strange, ritualistic attitude?

    ¡°The Juunta have spoken.¡± It was Urg, the broad-chested orator, breaking my mind free from my questions. ¡°Now, all here have witnessed, on behalf of the People, the calling of the Juunta and the presence of the Four. What say you? What questions have you? Speak for those you represent.¡±

    A rustling shuffle from the crowd. The usual reaction when a large group is asked to speak for themselves. Then, ¡°Mada Munza has had a dream!¡±

    It was an old voice, but the kind that had only grown deeper and more compelling with age. Like a televangelist or a radio preacher, or an old country singer. The mob parted, and an orc shuffled forward to the edge of the circle that surrounded my stone seat. He had a wiry, sinew build. Sunken temples, sunken cheeks. His face was wrinkled but his skin stretched over impressive, dense muscles. One eye glittered. The other was sliced through at an angle with an old, knotted scar.

    He gestured broadly with storytelling hands. ¡°You all know me,¡± he said. ¡°You know my mate, the wise Mada Munza.¡± He bowed in the direction of the old woman on her pedestal and then toward the lead figure. ¡°She cannot speak for herself, today. So I would speak on her behalf¡­¡±

    The masked leader bowed his head. His voice was grave, carrying over the crowd. ¡°Indeed we know you, Shkruk. And your mate¡¯s wisdom is always welcome. As is yours.¡±

    The old orc gave a brief nod in return. ¡°The Swift Spear has good reason to urge us to battle. Our enemies creep closer every day in the dark tunnels. We have all lost someone to the bogaddah, or the naathul, or the zumagi. All of us. The bogaddah are worst, because they are closest, but the People cannot fight the bogaddah. They are too many. There is no point. The bogaddah are the flies that gather on shit. Killing the flies does not make the shit go away.¡±

    There were murmurs, but I couldn¡¯t tell if they were of agreement or condemnation. The warrior figure had crossed his arms again, chin high in a defiant sort of stance.

    Shkruk went on. ¡°The shit is down below. Deep in the dark where the bogaddah spawn. And that is where my mate has dreamed a terrible dream. A dream of a great ghur.¡±

    A murmur went through the crowd, the closest members even edging a little away from the old orc. I focused on the word. Dark shadow fire. Cold below ground. Demon. Evil. The sensation that ran down my back was enough to make me flinch and shiver. An icy chill swept down my spine and pins pricked the soles of my feet. I frowned. I still didn¡¯t understand what I was hearing.

    ¡°The ghur is deep below, and it is hungry. Bogaddah cannot sustain it with their twisted souls. So it drives them up, up, and up. This is why they have grown bolder. To feed the ghur who drives them to madness. To feed it with the souls of the People.¡±

    I could tell that this old storyteller was bothering the others. They were glancing around, shuffling, like they wanted him to stop. But I couldn¡¯t tell if it was because they didn¡¯t believe him or because they believed him too much.

    ¡°We cannot fight a ghur. The bogaddah, more and more, are a thorn in our side that we have endured for too long. The naathul are everywhere. As Urg has said, the zumagi patrols come deeper and deeper. It is time¡­¡± he hesitated, then squared his shoulders. ¡°For a Long Walk.¡±

    A collective murmur of uncertainty.

    ¡°We must leave. But the Underway that brought us to this place has been closed for generations. And the zumagi fortress guards the way above. We need a shakka who can gather the haavi. And we need a vedik who can lead the People up past the fortress and into the light. That is the dream of Mada Munza and the wisdom of Shkruk, such as it is.¡±

    The words came thick and fast, too many for me to focus on translating one by one. By the time I had unraveled shakka ¡ª diplomat, storyteller, leader, peacemaker ¡ª the old orc Shkruk had finished. He rested his hands on his hips and stared around with his one good eye. Like he was daring someone to disagree.

    The rumblings of uncertainty rose. Then they crystalized.

    ¡°A Long Walk? What manner of idea is this?¡± It was the young warrior, his horned mask shaking side to side vigorously. ¡°The Juunta values your memory, Shkruk, and your stories. But it is best to keep them separated.¡±

    The old man turned, voice irritated. ¡°My mind is sharp as your blade, Swift Spear.¡± He sniffed, then shook his head. His voice was calmer when he continued. ¡°Just because there has not been a Long Walk in living memory does not mean that they are the stuff of legend.¡±

    The warrior shifted his weight. ¡°You wish us to flee our troubles. Our enemies. Like cowards.¡±

    Shkruk shrugged and bowed his head deferentially. ¡°Brand me a coward, if you wish, Banku. I only offer the Juunta my opinion. On behalf of the People.¡±

    Zeni cut in. ¡°And we accept it gratefully, wise Shkruk.¡± The young woman¡¯s voice was doubtlessly Aleesi¡¯s, I knew. But something about the mask threw me off. ¡°Your experience has long been a guiding light for the People, and your stories a source of much wisdom.¡±

    The older orc bowed his head again, lower, in the direction of the diamond-masked girl.

    ¡°A Long Walk¡­¡±

    It was the rumbling voice of the stentorian Urg. He exhaled a long, heavy breath. Around me, the crowd waited. ¡°There is much for the Juunta to consider. But for now, we must first deal with the problems in our midst. The outsiders who saved our Zeni but led our enemies to our doorstep.¡±

    I swallowed. That he meant me seemed obvious. I wondered why I¡¯d trusted Aleesi when she brought me here. I could have tried to get away, or something. Right, I argued internally. And how long would you have survived out in the tunnels all on your own, even if you managed to escape?

    Okay, so maybe going out on my own wasn¡¯t an option.

    ¡°I have thought on what has been said,¡± Urg continued. ¡°And it seems wrong to deliver the outsider into the jaws of our enemy.¡± A low grumble from the pedestal behind me. ¡°And yet,¡± he went on, shooting a masked glance over the heads of the crowd toward his younger comrade, ¡°if Reh speaks truly and his presence draws the bogaddah, it is a foolish risk to the People to allow him to stay.¡±

    Uh-oh¡­

    ¡°The outsider will be released beyond our walls and sent forth on his own. As Father, I have listened. As Leader, I have spoken.¡±

    I blinked. Okay, so maybe going out on my own was my only option. Fuck.

    I stood stock still, stunned. I glanced over at Aleesi. The girl was had shifted her weight and her hands were tightly clenched, but she didn¡¯t seem about to say anything. Her mask turned to look toward me in the center of the crowd. I¡¯m sure she saw a confused and helpless face.

    ¡°What of the other outsider?¡± A voice from the crowd startled me enough to turn. ¡°The zumagi?¡±

    There was a rumble of anger.

    Are they talking about Magnuus? I thought. He must be here! But where? Maybe if I could find him we could stick together once we were released. Make our way back up to the duergar fortress? I could complete my quest, avoid finding out what happens when you break a sacred oath, and maybe not die.

    I couldn¡¯t look at Aleesi. After all I¡¯d risked helping her, she had hung me out to dry. Figures. Sticking with Magnuus seemed about the best plan I had, at the moment.

    That was when the huge leader at the front of the atrium spoke again. His voice was harsh and firm. ¡°Him, we kill.¡±

    Or not.

 Chapter 17

    Torches flickered all around the space. The smoke twisted between pillars and clung to the edges of the roof before drifting through the open ceiling and into the darkness. Between the pillars, shadows. Under the torches, the undulating mass of orcs. The trembling light splashed across the long, pale, featureless masks that were pronouncing judgement. For the first time in long, unending minutes, the attention was off me.

    And, of course, I chose that moment to speak.

    ¡°I¡¯m Undying.¡±

    My voice was unexpected, and maybe that¡¯s why the hush fell so quickly. All around me, orcs twisted their heads to look at me in shock. I was almost as surprised. I was speaking in a language I¡¯d only ever heard in short bursts of snarled threats, and yet with the barest focus my mind flipped a switch. I was talking like an orc.

    But part of me knew I needed to speak, needed to do something. Maybe it was just my inner Survivor knowing that if I didn¡¯t, I was going to be kicked out and left for dead. And if I left these people, I was going to die. What did I know about surviving in the dark? Not dying¡­ that was my number one rule. Pretty much my only rule. It was why I was in this insane, unbelievable world, after all.

    The mob pulled back, compressing against each other. Their voices ran over each other as they stared at me with wide, dark eyes. Lips pulled back as some of them bared their sharp lower canines.

    ¡°Silence!¡± The voice of the masked orc was deep and resounding, echoing softly between the columns.

    I had a feeling this was the only opening I was going to get. ¡°I don¡¯t know if that means anything to you.¡± My voice wasn¡¯t nearly so loud or imposing or impressive, but the syllables rolled off my tongue. ¡°But I can¡­ be useful to you.¡± I tried to puff myself up to look imposing and grand, like the massive figure on the pedestal before me, but I got the impression that it fell flat.

    ¡°You can use me. I can help you fight the goblins. And the spiders. And the duergar. Hell, your girl knows!¡± I pointed at Aleesi. ¡°We fought them together! And I saved her from the spiders. Or the¡­ naathul. Or whatever you call them. And then again with the duergar. Or before. The zumagi, I mean. Those too! She would have died if not for me!¡± I was scowling now, and I abruptly realized that my anxiety and momentary fear had turned into something else. Anger. ¡°I nearly died trying to save her after she was poisoned. And this is what I get? You plan to just throw me out into the dark to die? How can you call that justi¡ª"

    ¡°Silence.¡± The masked figure at the head of the atrium pointed at me, voice booming, and I trailed off.

    Not a very climactic ending.

    ¡°Who taught you to speak our tongue?¡± His voice was lower, now, but no less powerful.

    I hesitated, frowning. How do I explain this¡­? ¡°That¡¯s a complicated¡ª¡±

    ¡°Who?¡±

    I drew in a breath, thought for a minute, then jerked a thumb at the slim figure in the diamond mask. ¡°She did. Sort of.¡±

    The face turned toward Aleesi, and I imagined a frown behind the featureless mask.

    I felt the strange urge to say something to defend her, but who was I kidding? I was too busy defending myself. In a game of Survival, it¡¯s every man for himself. And this was no game.

    The face turned back toward me. A long, slow consideration. Silence, all around, the hush of a crowd waiting for a decision. Or, in my case, the realization that if I said the wrong thing I might have downgraded my situation from exile with a side order of probable death to¡­ just death.

    The face lifted. Urg addressed the crowd.

    ¡°The Juunta will disband. We will question this outsider. And then, we will see what we will see.¡±

    * * *

    I bruised my knees when I hit the floor, tumbling helplessly forward onto the tiled stone. Behind me, I heard the clink of a weapons harness. Then, the rectangle of orange light narrowed into nothingness.

    I was alone. Again.

    I had been stoically silent as I was dragged down from the stone platform, through the crowd and then marched unceremoniously out of the broad, squat temple. It had been a short trip to a nearby mausoleum. Twin grunts of effort, and I was pitched forward through the doorway.

    I pushed myself up to my feet, blinking in the darkness. I shouldn¡¯t have been able to see. But, as I was slowly becoming accustomed to, my eyes ignored the darkness. The room was almost identical to the one where I¡¯d woken. There was a rectangular nook in the far wall that I was beginning to suspect was for some kind of coffin ¡ª a long one, for a body built in proportion to the architecture around me. Now, however, the nook was piled with furs. Empty brackets on either side of the door were for torches, and the rest of the room seemed featureless. No windows. No table or chairs. Nothing.

    I crossed to the nook and sat, bent over my knees, elbows on my thighs.

    What had I just witnessed? Some sort of religious ritual? Some kind of strange, orc-style communism? Who were ¡°the People¡±? More importantly, why hadn¡¯t Aleesi stood up for me? After all I¡¯d done for her? Nothing was fair. But why had I expected fair? I shouldn¡¯t have. Maybe I just assumed that Thorr¡¯un would be better than Earth.

    Yeah, right.

    I waited for some time, stewing, not sure what I was waiting for. My head was down. My fingers swung, linked, between my knees. I wanted to plan, knew I probably should, but what was I going to do? My list of resources was short: a magic spear, an ally who was probably dead, a pet who had been stolen and a diplomat who couldn¡¯t seem to decide whether she cared about my fate or not. Against me I had a city of hostile warriors, an entire race of warped goblinoids that could apparently smell my outsider glow and the promise of death out in the dark, labyrinthine tunnels.

    MacGyver me out of that one, if you can.

    The door swung open, and my head came up.

    A silhouette, with a torch. The light made me blink and shield my eyes, but then it steadied and I heard the sound of the torch being settled into one of the brackets. When the silhouette spoke, I recognized the voice. Husky and rasping, but oddly melodic.

    ¡°You are odd, outsider. Very odd.¡±

    It was the old woman from behind the round mask. When I lowered my hand, I recognized her by her hair. The mask was gone, and her face was flat and craggy with wrinkles. Up close, I could see that her dreadlocks were grey at the roots.

    ¡°My name is Jondalar.¡± Probably not the best time to correct someone, but I did it on instinct.

    Luckily, she continued like she hadn¡¯t heard me. ¡°An Undying, eh? One who wishes to be useful, no less?¡±

    ¡°Honestly? One who doesn¡¯t want to die.¡± Probably not the best time to be blunt, but again¡­ Instinct can be a bitch.

    ¡°And refreshingly honest.¡± The woman closed the door behind her, then leaned back against it. She crossed her arms across her chest, her arms thin and sticklike. There were furs draped around her narrow shoulders, and I wondered what animals they were from. The pelts were shaggy, mottled grey and black in a way that would blend in with the world of stone.

    ¡°Do you know who I am?¡± The old orc female watched me carefully, her eyes gleaming like dark pools.

    I tried to remember. ¡°Ray¡­?¡± I muttered after a minute. ¡°Ra?¡±

    ¡°Ha.¡± She chuckled dryly. ¡°Reh¡­¡± she murmured. ¡°Not now, outsider. Now, I am Mada Munza. And Zughat has allowed me to speak with you first.¡±

    Zughat? I had no idea who she was talking about, or why she was going by a different name. But it didn¡¯t matter. I had other concerns. ¡°To speak about what?¡± I demanded. I realized that my knees were bouncing nervously, and I pressed them down, pushing my feet flat against the floor. My fingers gripped my thighs now, knuckles pale. The tension was palpable.

    Mada Munza waved one hand carelessly. ¡°You claim to be Undying. You claim that our Zeni taught you the language of the People. You claim that you can be of use to us. All these words¡­ And none to see the truth of them.¡± Her hand froze, and her eyes bored into mine. ¡°Seeing is what I do best, outsider Jondalar.¡±Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    Her fingers suddenly crooked, and she began to mutter under her breath. A low murmur, streaming between her lips as quiet as a long, drawn out sigh. Cold prickles down my spine. I tasted metal on my tongue. I tried to stand but my legs weren¡¯t responding, they were too tight, tense. Or maybe too heavy. Like my eyelids.

    What is she doing? Her eyes were huge, bright, fiery. Liquid pools of darkness to fall into.

    ¡°What are yo¡ª?¡±

    Falling.

    * * *

    The door slammed closed and I blinked. What the hell?

    I realized I was kneeling, one palm pressed to the floor and the other on the edge of the nook. I remembered a brief talk with the woman behind the round mask, but after that¡­

    Nothing.

    In Mada Munza¡¯s place stood a new guest. And¡­ I recognized him.

    It was the leader of the group of fighters who Aleesi, Magnuus and I met out in the tunnels. And now he was striding toward me.

    ¡°What do you wa¡ª?¡±

    I dodged the first blow on instinct, a wicked uppercut that came out of nowhere and blasted by my face with an audible whoosh. The left hook I also managed to duck, and then the flat-footed kick that would have blasted me out through the back wall. I scrambled, my brain still waking from whatever fucking magic bullshit the orc enchantress seer witch doctor crone had surprised me with.

    ¡°What the fuck?¡± I grunted.

    The warrior¡¯s broad face registered a brief surprise, then clenched down. I shouldn¡¯t have said anything. It devoted precious resources to my mouth instead of my nimble feet. His fist smashed into the side of my jaw. The world spun.

    When I blinked and could see again, I laying on my face with the hulking warrior towering over me. I had been too slow to avoid the blow completely, but luckily I had been moving in the right direction. Otherwise it might have been lights out. Permanently.

    ¡°You are weak, outsider.¡±

    Oh crap. I knew this voice, too. The horned warrior, from the temple. They were the same person?

    ¡°You talk, when you should fight. We have no space for weakness among the People. And we have enough talkers.¡±

    I spat. There was red in my saliva. I had bitten my tongue and it hurt like a motherfucker. I was beginning to realize what We will question the outsider had meant.

    ¡°Kind of unfair,¡± I groaned. Talking hurt. A lot. My tongue was swollen and thick. ¡°Am I supposed to fight with one of the people who holds my life in his hands?¡±

    A kick in the stomach. It landed with a heavy thud and the air vomited from my lungs. I flopped onto my back, gasping.

    ¡°You fight when you can,¡± the warrior growled, frowning down at me. ¡°Until your last breath. And if you fight well, then you hold your life in your own hands.¡±

    I was still sucking air when the stone door closed dramatically behind him.

    * * *

    ¡°Why did you lie?¡±

    The voice was surprisingly gentle, and I groaned as I rolled over onto my front. I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees as Aleesi slid through the doorway and quietly shut the portal behind her.

    Or Zeni, I reminded myself. Whatever that means. ¡°What?¡± Of all the things she could have said, that was not one of the ones I expected. I groaned, then spat again. So it wasn¡¯t polite. Bite me.

    The young woman approached, walking carefully, but I shuffled back and held up my hands. ¡°Ohhh no you don¡¯t,¡± I growled. ¡°Your friends have been having their way with me. Not you, too.¡± I realized how that sounded, and also that I wouldn¡¯t really mind if she had her way with me, but the woman narrowed her eyes.

    ¡°You told the Juunta that I taught you to speak. After you pretended to me that you didn¡¯t speak a word. Why did you lie?¡±

    I frowned. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you do anything to protect me?¡± I grimaced. I put a hand to my ribs. They ached. ¡°Seems pretty fucked up, after I went to so much trouble keeping you alive.¡±

    The stern look flickered, and for a moment Aleesi¡¯s eyes were uncertain. ¡°There is not much I can do. Zeni does not know you, outsider. Only Aleesi. And the Juunta must care for the People. That is our mandate.¡±

    I was tired of being confused. ¡°Who is Zeni?¡± I demanded.

    A sigh, maybe of irritation and maybe of exhaustion. Who knew? We¡¯d both been through a lot, recently. Not that I was feeling worried for her, or anything. That would be absurd.

    ¡°I am sometimes Zeni.¡± She came closer, squatted on her haunches in front of me. ¡°But right now, I am Aleesi. Who you saved.¡±

    I was backed up against the wall, still on my knees.

    ¡°When we call the Juunta, Zeni is needed. The First Cycle. To Love for the People.¡±

    I blinked. ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    ¡°You are an outsider.¡± She shrugged. ¡°It is not your place to understand.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s bullshit. But whatever. I don¡¯t care. Aleesi¡­¡± I knew I was bad at this, but I felt like she was my only shot. I had obviously messed up my second interview, and I didn¡¯t even remember how my first one went. Knowing Thorr¡¯un¡¯s propensity for screwing me, it had probably gone just as poorly. I stared into her face, clenching my jaw. ¡°If you kick me out into the tunnels, I will die. And then all of this¡­¡± I forced my jaw closed, controlled the adrenaline that was trying to surge into my body and make me do something stupid. All of this would have been for nothing.

    ¡°You owe me¡­¡± I finished. I couldn¡¯t look at her, staring at the floor and flexing my fingers into my thighs.

    Aleesi¡¯s hand was rising toward my face when I glanced back up, but before I could flinch away she was gently brushing her fingertips across my cheek. She nodded, eyes bright. She didn¡¯t smile, didn¡¯t frown, didn¡¯t give anything away. But her voice was soothing.

    ¡°Jondalar, I meant what I said. You seem a good man. I will not abandon you, as you did not abandon me.¡±

    Then she stood. And then, with a fluttering of white leather, she was gone.

    * * *

    I sat quiet for a while, waiting.

    If things followed pattern, the fourth and final member of the Juunta would be visiting. Urg. The leader. If that¡¯s what this orc called himself. If things followed pattern, though, I¡¯d have a fresh name to add to the list of names I wasn¡¯t going to remember.

    Brilliant.

    What would I say to the orc? I didn¡¯t know much about negotiating, but I knew that I was in a pretty weak position. I had nothing to bargain with except for the fact that ¡ª according to the word of someone this entire racial group hated ¡ª I was Undying.

    I didn¡¯t know why I¡¯d brought it up. Maybe because it had impressed Magnuus so much? It had convinced him I was worth keeping around, at least. I shook my head and sighed. I rubbed my temples. My stomach ached fiercely where I¡¯d been kicked.

    ¡°Why couldn¡¯t I have arrived someplace nice?¡± I muttered. ¡°Like a peaceful farming village. Thorr¡¯un probably has those¡­¡± My side hurt as I chuckled softly, bleakly.

    The door opened then, quietly, and I looked up.

    The figure who filled the doorway was the first silhouette I¡¯d seen that seemed to fit in this size category of building. Like everyone else was a six-year-old running around in Daddy¡¯s tee-shirts, and in walks Daddy. Only Daddy was a 7-foot-tall orc with dark green skin, curved tusks and the kind of muscles specially designed to rip off tee-shirts with a flex.

    Yeah. Intimidating.

    The orc moved with surprising slowness, carefully closing the door behind him. It gave me plenty of time to take in the broad expanse of his muscular back. The long, broad sword that curved at his hip. The boulders of his shoulders. When he finally turned to face me, I was sufficiently impressed.

    I swallowed as his dark eyes met mine. This was the kind of fighter who could probably tear my head off with his bare hands. I pushed my hair nervously back behind my ears, and felt the unnatural sensation of a point digging into my palm. I had elf ears, and all this time I hadn¡¯t noticed. The distraction was enough that when I realized the orc was silently walking toward me it was almost too late.

    In a flash, I was on my feet, stepping back. ¡°What do you want?¡±

    His hand came out, big enough to crush my skull between his fingers.

    I tensed. If I could get enough space to maneuver, I could probably dodge him a couple times. Like I had the other, smaller warrior. I was probably faster than he was, with all his bulk. But what he said next caught me flatfooted.

    ¡°I wished to thank you for bringing my daughter safely home.¡± This close, in the confined space, his voice filled the air.

    I blinked. What? ¡°Zeni?¡±

    His back was to the torch, so his face was mostly in shadow. But his tusks reflected yellow and sharp in the flickering light as he shook his head. ¡°No, outsider. Aleesi.¡±

    I sighed. You had a fifty-fifty shot, I groaned inwardly. And of course you missed it. His hand was still out. I momentarily weighed the benefits of shaking hands with this gigantic warrior against the dangers of coming within arm¡¯s reach. Then, I realized that slighting the most powerful man ¡ª politically and physically ¡ª that I¡¯d yet to meet in this world was probably the wrong decision. Survival wise.

    I swallowed, then stretched out my own hand in response.

    Like Magnuus had, the orc grabbed my forearm in a medieval grip. He squeezed. Probably not much by his standards, but I swear I felt the bones of my forearm buckle. I gritted my teeth and forced myself not to let out more than a soft hiss of pain.

    ¡°And who are you?¡± I groaned.

    The orc released me, and I pulled back my arm.

    I instinctively cradled it to my chest. ¡°I would be wrong if I tried to call you Urg, I suppose?¡±

    The orc stepped away, shoulders shaking in a soft, rumbling chuckle. ¡°You would be wrong indeed, outsider. I am Zughat.¡±

    The name flicked in my memory, but I was too busy to wonder why. I doubted it was more important than trying to impress upon this orc the importance of keeping me alive. ¡°I¡¯m Jondalar,¡± I said, rubbing my wrist.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°And I need you to not kill me. Or send me out into the tunnels to die.¡± Hopefully if I kept repeating this point it would eventually sink in.

    ¡°I am aware of your requests.¡± The towering warrior retreated several steps, then sat gently on the edge of the piled furs. He leaned forward, forearms on his thighs. He looked over, then gestured with his chin. ¡°Sit with me, Jondalar.¡±

    I hesitated again, then slowly walked forward. I sat. I¡¯m only a little ashamed to say that I sat as far away as the coffin nook would allow.

    ¡°I am torn, Jondalar.¡± The orc seemed surprisingly calm, lifting his head to stare at the far wall.

    I waited.

    ¡°As Zughat, I am in your debt. I have spoken with my daughter. You helped her escape from the zumagi. You escaped from the naathul, and then, instead of fleeing for your life, you brought her with you. After all this, you healed her.¡±

    I pulled in a breath, about to add that Magnuus had probably done most of the healing, but then I shut my mouth. Not the time to share the credit. Instead, I waited. There was definitely a But in the offing.

    ¡°As Urg, however, I must lead with wisdom and care. I must keep the People safe. I must be their father and their protector. Is it wise to keep you, Jondalar?¡± Dark eyes turned toward me. ¡°Is it wise when the Far Eyes has seen the brightness of your soul, and knows that your scent draws the chaos-spawned bogaddah to my haavun?¡±

    My throat closed, but I had to ask. My voice was a tense whisper. ¡°What are you going to do?¡±

    A moment of silence. The huge orc shifted his weight, sighing.

    Then, ¡°We will see if you are truly Undying,¡± he rumbled. ¡°And if so, maybe you can be useful to us, after all.¡± That was when I saw the stone knife in the shadows by his side, blade glinting black like obsidian glass in the orc¡¯s massive fist.

    And then it was driving toward me.

 Chapter 18

    My vision narrowed to the edge of the razor sharp dagger. I sucked in a breath, the air rushing through my nostrils and past my lips. I could see nothing else, because nothing else mattered but the fact that I was about to ¡ª

    <hr>

    You¡¯ve activated the feat: Incredible Focus.

    You have 3 seconds at ? speed.

    Use them wisely.

    12¡­

    <hr>

    11¡­

    The notification blinked across my vision and then disappeared. The tiny counter had flashed into existence in the corner of my sight. I felt my hands moving slowly, both of them, my vision strangely clear.

    10¡­

    My fingers were wrapping around Zughat¡¯s thick wrist. The stone blade was driving toward my chest. I tensed my muscles. Adrenaline surged in my body. I wanted to be afraid.

    I was afraid.

    9¡­

    The orc¡¯s strength smashed into mine and I felt the ripple effect shudder through my body. Up my arms, into my shoulders, down my back. My teeth clenched, jaw tight.

    8¡­This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    I might have Strength 17, but I was way outclassed.

    I felt my arms giving way, barely slowing the forward momentum of the chieftain¡¯s glinting knife. My eyes turned up into his face, and I could see surprise slowly spreading across his features. Like I shouldn¡¯t have been able to move so fast.

    7¡­

    Yeah, I thought. I shouldn¡¯t. But you shouldn¡¯t be so fucking strong.

    There was a strange clarity to my thoughts, like I was thinking at normal speed while the world slowed around me. My reflexes were sharp, my muscles faster than they should have been. But not fast enough. I didn¡¯t have room to maneuver, wouldn¡¯t be able to dodge the incoming blade. The orc was too close, had positioned me perfectly. I couldn¡¯t believe I¡¯d lowered my guard, given in to the momentary urge to trust in his sincerity.

    6¡­

    So, instead of giving me the time I needed to escape, Incredible Focus gave me a slow-motion, cinematic visual as I was stabbed in the chest. I wanted to scream. But there was no time.

    5¡­

    The knife came closer. It was big. It matched its owner. At least six or seven inches of stone blade, chipped away to a deadly edge. I couldn¡¯t help but be fascinated as the point drifted toward my skin. The fear and inevitability that wormed through my body was so overwhelming it was like everything was happening to someone else.

    4¡­

    My arms trembled again, and I wondered if I was even putting up much of a fight. The orc¡¯s expression surprised me. His dark eyes had widened, jaw tight in a grimace of effort.

    I shouldn¡¯t have looked back down.

    3¡­

    I saw the exact instant the blade pierced my skin, watched the tip pricking me just under my sternum and slightly to one side. It slid through my skin like paper. I could feel my heartbeat pulsing through my whole body.

    2¡­

    Please¡­ The involuntary grunt of pain strangled my throat, gripped my neck and squeezed. I couldn¡¯t tear my eyes away as an inch of blade pushed into my body. Blood welled around the edge, liquid crimson in the slowly-drifting orange light of the flickering torch. No¡­

    1¡­

    Thud. The sound of a blade driving home.

    Strange... It felt more like being punched in the gut than¡ª

    Oh. And there was the pain.

 Chapter 19

    I groaned and the sound hurt. It grated. There was something hard in my chest where my breath should be. I could hear my pounding pulse.

    No. I didn¡¯t want to die. I had to stay alive. No no no no no¡­ Strangely, though, in that moment the only thing that slithered into my mind was a question¡­

    Why?

    Why did I need to live? Why did I need it so badly? What was it about my life that I held on to so desperately? My mind spun, seeking an answer.

    The one it landed on surprised me.

    I have so much to make up for.

    I tried to look up, but I couldn¡¯t. My vision was dimming, my body suddenly so weak. I felt the thrill of fear in my body. Distant. Closer was the regret. It tore through me. And as the darkness tunneled in around my sight¡­

    *             *             *

    ¡°No!¡± The words forced themselves from my lips. ¡°You can¡¯t!¡±

    ¡°Please, Colin.¡± She was begging me. I could hear the tears in her voice from the other side of the door. I knew she was trying to keep it together, trying to keep up a fa?ade of control. ¡°Please¡­ We¡¯ve been over this... You have to come¡­ I need you¡­¡±

    ¡°No!¡± I sounded like a goddam child, trying the word out for the first time until it was overused. I need you¡­ I thought. But I didn¡¯t say it. My face was hot and wet. I scrubbed the back of my hand across my eyes. They burned. Stupid. I thudded my head back against the door. Stupid. Didn¡¯t she see how stupid this was? ¡°I won¡¯t.¡± I meant it to come out as a defiant bark. It came out low and hard through a mostly-closed throat.

    Silence on the other side of the door.

    ¡°Please¡­¡± Her voice almost a whisper. ¡°At least¡­ Come out to say¡­ Goodbye?¡±

    I screwed my eyes shut. My face was a grimace. My teeth bit down together. My back slid down the door until I was sitting with my knees drawn up to my chest. ¡°No¡­¡± I muttered. I don¡¯t even know if my voice was loud enough for her to hear. ¡°No no no¡­¡± Nothing made any sense. Didn¡¯t they know how dangerous this was? Didn¡¯t she know that she had to stay safe? She had to stay safe.

    ¡°Darling?¡± The voice cut through the air. A man¡¯s voice. Older. ¡°Come on! We have to go. We cannot be late. Everyone¡¯s in the car.¡±

    I hated that voice. My anger snarled and threw itself forward, latched on. My heart hardened.

    Sniffling on the other side of the door. One last thump. A half-hearted attempt to touch me through the thin wood. ¡°Colin¡­ I love you¡­¡±

    They couldn¡¯t leave. She couldn¡¯t leave. If I didn¡¯t say goodbye, she couldn¡¯t leave. My shoulders were shaking. I didn¡¯t realize I was crying until I looked at my hands and my knuckles were damp.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    ¡°I have to go now¡­ I love you¡­¡±

    I wanted to get up and throw open the door and throw my arms around her. Hold her and keep her. I wanted to scream at the voice that he couldn¡¯t take her. Didn¡¯t he realize that none of this plan made sense? Those things weren¡¯t ready. They hadn¡¯t been ready for what had happened, and they certainly weren¡¯t ready for the aftermath.

    I sniffed, and my nose was cold and running.

    Time had passed.

    How much? Where were they?

    ¡°No no no no no¡­¡±

    I wrenched open the door and sprinted for the front of the house. The driveway was empty. The front door was closed. Not that it mattered. There was no one to knock. No neighbors, anymore. No one.

    I had no one.

    I was shaking my head. This wasn¡¯t real. They would be back. She had to come back¡­

    <hr>

    You¡¯ve activated a Mark ¡ª Mark of the Survivor

    Once per respawn, the first time you drop to 0 Hit Points you will instead regenerate 1 hit point.

    You are at 1 hit point.

    <hr>

    I gasped. My hand twitched out, grasping for something. My eyes blinked open. Suddenly the fear was very close, grabbing my lungs and squeezing.

    What the¡­?

    I hacked, rolled over on the cold stone and spat out a wet cough. My eyes burned. I didn¡¯t care.

    Not dead.

    My chest heaved and my fingers flexed into the floor. Adrenaline surged in my body. Flickering faces in front of my vision. Annie¡­ Just the briefest kick of pain. Jolts of awakening shame. Kyle¡­ There they were. The faces that haunted me like ghosts. The ones I¡¯d spent so long trying to escape.

    A shadow fell across the light.

    I flipped onto my back, scrabbling. I wanted to move away, knew I wouldn¡¯t be fast enough. The knife would descend again. And things would be over for real. Instead, a huge hand that reached down, palm empty and open.

    Silently offering to help me up.

    No. Not again. No more trust for you, mister. I flinched away on instinct, scuttling on the floor like a crab until I hit the far wall with my back.

    Zughat stood watching me, and I knew my face was drawn together in a snarl. I wanted to yell something, hurl abuse and anger. But my voice wouldn¡¯t work around my body trying to gulp in air.

    ¡°Undying, indeed.¡± His tone was soft and surprisingly gentle.

    I swallowed. Then went back to gasping. I stared down at my chest, where Zughat¡¯s stone knife should have been buried to the hilt just under my sternum. Instead, flaring dark in its place, was a black design on my skin. It looked like a tattoo ¡ª a strange, geometric image, three downward pointing triangles, interlocked ¡ª but I knew for a fact that my skin had been bare just minutes ago. I pressed my hand to my skin, and my palm just about covered the mark.

    I felt my heart, rattling against my rib cage and up into my fingers. ¡°You killed me.¡± I lifted my head and stared at him. ¡°You fucking killed me!¡±

    The orc nodded, slowly. ¡°I am sorry, Jondalar. But I did what was necessary.¡±

    Drip. Drip. Drip.

    My ears twitched and I swallowed as my eyes traced down his arm, into his off hand, and identified the long, dark knife. The blade was wet. I could tell, even in shadow, because it glistened and the liquid beaded on the tip to fall gently to the smooth tiled floor of the tomb.

    Drip.

    Fuck! I wanted to scream. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to¡­ Why? You didn¡¯t have to¡­¡± Why was I feeling this roller coaster of emotions? Annie¡­ I scowled harshly. Stupid. Is that what you think about in your dying moments? Just your regrets? Fuck¡­

    ¡°Now I know you speak the truth.¡± The seven-foot-tall warrior sighed. ¡°You are indeed Undying. And, it seems, everything that comes with it.¡±

    ¡°What the hell does that mean?¡± I demanded. ¡°You gigantic piece of shit asshole!¡± The floodgates opened, and I hurled abuse by the fistful at the musclebound warrior. My chest was heaving and my vision blurred. I ran out of breath and ranted in a husky whisper.

    Zughat just stood there and took it. Maybe because he was a dad, he knew how to take it. Maybe because he was just doing what he needed to survive and keep his family alive, he didn¡¯t care. I should have known about that. You¡¯ll do anything to protect your family.

    At least, you should.

 Chapter 20

    March of the Penguins routine?¡±

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    You seem a good man. His words bounced back and forth in my mind. Aleesi had said the same thing. And even though she had only said it to trick me into lowering my guard, Zughat was right. I had done some good here. I had done something good. For someone else. For no other reason than I was there and I could.

    Ironic.

    <hr>

    Zughat has offered you a QUEST!

    March of the Penguins

    The people of Thorr¡¯un see AvatR players as powerful, imbued with strange and unknown magics. Using this to your advantage, help Zughat and his People to overcome obstacles and enemies as they prepare and embark on the Long Walk, a mass migration.

    Note: Accepting the quest ¡°March of the Penguins¡± unlocks additional side quests that you may or may not choose to take. These will be indicated with an MP symbol.

    Reward for success: XP and safety!

    Penalty for failure (or refusal): Freedom to roam the tunnels of Thirdohr until you die of starvation or goblin attack.

    Yes/No

    <hr>

    Yes glowed briefly, then the text shimmered from existence. Serve, I thought. But no one said anything about trust. ¡°But now, tell me one thing.¡±

    Ha. That¡¯s me. Wrath incarnate.