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—"

“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—”

“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 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.”

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

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—?”

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—?”

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 — according to the word of someone this entire racial group hated — 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 — politically and physically — 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.