I awoke again in the cold gray light of dawn—the hour for the condemned to meet their executioners. A group of men stood over me, and I recognized one as Kosshun the Skull-Splitter, chieftain of this grim fortress-city. He was taller than most of his orcs and leaner, almost gaunt. Perhaps that made his broad shoulders look even more colossal. His body was a tapestry of scars, and his dark face held the harshness of a man who’d walked through battle after battle. He stared down at me with eyes as bleak as a steel blade, fingers idly tapping the hilt of his sword.
“They tell me you’re the fool who claims to have taken down Roga of Tanabe,” he said at last. His voice had a hollow, echoing quality, like it rose from the depths of a cave.
I gazed back, the usual anger stirring in my blood. “So they say.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “That’s all you’ve got? I ask a question, and you go silent?”
“Let’s just say I’m sick of being told I’m a liar,” I replied. My tone was cold. I was done explaining myself to these brutes.
His mustache bristled around his tusk-like teeth. “Why come to Koseki at all?”
I let out a raw laugh. “Because squatting in the hills with leopards and giant baboons got old. Figured maybe I’d find better company. Guess I miscalculated.”
Kosshun’s scarred hand curled over his sword pommel. “They say you fight like a wildcat. Taro claims you didn’t approach our gates like a marauder. I admire courage. But suppose we free you? You’d resent us for what’s happened here, and that’s not a grudge I’d want turned loose.”
I shrugged as best I could in my shackles. “Then bring me into the tribe. Let me prove my worth. I’m no one’s slave.”
Kosshun’s eyes narrowed. “We don’t keep slaves. Not how we do things. And you’re a long way from being one of us.”
“Try me,” I shot back. “I’ll hunt, I’ll fight. I’ve got enough strength for any orc in Koseki.”
Right then, another orc shouldered past Kosshun—Goro, broader than any I’d seen so far, limbs coated in thick, rust-colored hair. He practically vibrated with brute force.
“You talk big, stranger,” he roared. “How about you show us?” He jerked his chin at Kosshun. “Unchain him. Everyone keeps going on about his so-called power; I’m ready to put it to the test.”
Kosshun frowned. “He’s injured. We battered his skull not long ago.”
“Then let him rest, let him heal,” Goro insisted, flexing his monstrous arms like a wrestler. “His fists are rumored to be iron.”
“Trust me, they’re plenty solid,” someone muttered from behind.
Goro just snorted. “Stop whining and let me see what he’s got. If he’s tough enough for our tribe, then by Kigen’s fangs, let him earn his place.”
Kosshun contemplated that, dark eyes unreadable. “I’ll think on it.”
That ended the debate for the moment. They filed out, one after another. Last in line was Taro, who shot me a quick look that might have been encouragement. Evidently, not all orcs here were entirely devoid of compassion.
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***
The day passed quietly. Taro never returned, but others brought me food and drink. They redressed the wound on my scalp. Gradually, the unbridled fury I had cultivated in the wild began to subside—though it still simmered beneath the surface, ready to explode if they pushed too far.
I didn’t catch sight of Aiko, the girl who had piqued my curiosity, though I heard light footsteps beyond the stone walls more than once. Could have been hers, or another’s.
As night fell, a cluster of warriors arrived and announced I’d be taken to a council where Kosshun would judge my fate. I was startled that anyone would speak in my defense. Once they had my word I wouldn’t turn on them, they unlocked the chain anchoring me to the wall—but they left heavy iron on my wrists and ankles. No point giving me full freedom, I supposed.
They led me from the cramped cell into a massive hallway lit by white fire torches. No tapestries, no decorations—just an oppressive sense that the walls could crush a man if they leaned in an inch. We passed through several similarly bare corridors, then emerged into a broad circular space under a domed ceiling. A stone throne stood on a blocky dais at the far side. Kosshun sprawled there in grim majesty, wearing a spotted leopard skin like a king. Before him, arranged in a three-quarters semicircle, sat the orc tribe: men cross-legged on animal hides, women and children behind them on rough benches.
It was surreal. The men were massive, hairy, scarred—some wore only loincloths and sandals, others had panther pelts over their shoulders. The women, in sharp contrast, were delicate, with pale skin and slender limbs, clothed in short, belted tunics like Aiko’s. Even the children exhibited that same bizarre dichotomy: the boys small but already thick-limbed, the girls dainty, doll-like.
I was shoved onto a stone block near the dais. Across the crowd, I spotted Goro, flexing his biceps with restless energy. He clearly wanted a piece of me.
Kosshun spoke with a sullen grandeur. “We gather to decide what becomes of the outsider called Kai.” He gestured at a big orc whose bruised face I recognized from my brawl in the cell. “Gotsuro, you represent him. Let’s hear arguments for why we shouldn’t toss him to the sabertooths.”
Gotsuro—apparently the second-in-command—did not look thrilled. He still wore visible lumps from our fight. Nevertheless, he set his weapons on the dais as custom required and turned, glowering at the tribe.
“All right,” he barked. “Show me your reasons for condemning or admitting Kai.”
It was like a signal flare. Half a dozen orcs leaped to their feet, roaring their objections, while Gotsuro howled right back. At first, I was sure I was finished. But Gotsuro, wounded pride or not, found his footing: spurred on by opposition, he roared at them with such volcanic ferocity that anyone listening would think we’d been lifelong allies. And the crazier the counterarguments got, the more heated he became.
Before long, Taro’s voice boomed in my favor, Goro thundered he wanted me tested fairly, and a growing chorus joined in support. Others cursed us with the passion of men defending ancient grudges. The dome rang with their shouts until I thought the roof might crack. Kosshun just watched from his throne, looking as grim and unmoving as a statue of some old war god.
I soon lost track of the chaos. Insults turned personal, genealogies were flung around like weapons, and at least a few orcs forgot which side they were on and started hurling arguments that actually helped my case. It was complete bedlam. By midnight, they were still going strong, fists shaking, spittle flying, beards bristling. The women, having zero interest in this madness, quietly slipped away with their children—except one slender figure: Aiko. She stayed behind, perched on a bench, trying to follow each snarled point with a look of anxious focus.
Me, I gave up caring. Gotsuro roared himself half hoarse, Goro practically wept with fury, begging Kosshun to let him snap a few necks just to speed things along. By that point, I was so numb that I drifted off to sleep, leaning against the dais while they squabbled over whether my life would continue for another sunrise.
The next thing I knew, Taro was shaking me awake in the gray break of dawn. His breath smelled of fatigue, and he had hollows under his eyes. “Good news, gangster,” he said. “We pulled it off. You get to join the tribe—provided you can wrestle Goro.”
I rubbed grit from my eyelids. “Wrestle Goro? Sure, I’ll snap him in half.” Then I lay back down on the cold stone, closed my eyes, and drifted off again, oblivious to Taro’s snort of disbelief and the fact that I was surrounded by orcs on a world far from Earth. In that moment, all I wanted was sleep.