“So where exactly did you go?” Callan asked. “It seemed different than the time with the quarantine protocols.”

I did not ‘go’ anywhere. I have been here this entire time. You simply were unable to hear me.

“It was more than just that. I didn’t have access to any of my bounties, or even my raised stats. Hell, I couldn’t even bring up my stat screen.”

Just to make certain, Callan pulled it up now.

Name: Xeph-Zul-Karatl (3rd Sphere)

Avatar: Callan Whitlocke (Trueborn Human)

-STATISTICS-

Brawn: 10 (-5 modifier)

Momentum: 7 (-5 modifier)

Fortitude: 25 (-5 modifier)

Concentration: 7 (-5 modifier)

Influence: 7 (-5 modifier)

Piety: 10 (-5 modifier)

-BOUNTIES-

God Bond: Talc – VIII

Manifestation: (Error — Locked)

Orison slot 1: (Error — Locked)

Orison Slot 2: (Error — Locked)

-DISPENSATIONS-

Perk 1: (Error — Locked)

-DOGMA-

Total Followers: 73

Available Faith: 0

Conviction: 1/5

Conviction Rate: 4/week

Temples: 1/1

Domain: 10 yd (-5 modifier)

APOTHEOSIS: 0/25%

Interesting. The first thing he noticed was that all of his stats were showing negative five, and his abilities listed ‘locked’ where they normally bore descriptions. Out of curiosity, he tried summoning his Wurmchain, but nothing happened.

His muscles felt strong as before again, but he hadn’t exactly been brimming with Brawn, either.

Also, his Conviction had gone up another point. He’d just drained the last of it to fuel the temple’s scry function. How long had he been down here? At least a day, but no more than two, he’d guess.

The exact circumstances of our separation elude me as well, Xeph said, oblivious to Callan’s worries. But it was not quarantine. During quarantine, I am placed in a reduced activity state in order to repair myself. Here, I was fully cognizant of everything, but had no way to communicate with you. It was... strange. Worrisome, even. I could feel the connection to our followers, but not to my avatar. If not for still being able to see through our eyes, I would have assumed you were dead.

“Gee, that’s not a chilling thought. Think it has something to do with these bars?” Callan reached out and traced a finger along one. The blue glow produced no heat. In fact, it felt cold beneath his fingertips.

Almost certainly. I have seen dveorgan runic work before, but this is something new. It must have developed during the time of my isolation.

“Any chance you’re just compressing the memories of it?”

Possibly. Xeph paused, then added. But I do not believe so.

“I guess it doesn’t really matter, but it sure puts these guys in a different light, that’s for sure. Based on all the dveorgan construction about the temple, I’d just assumed they must have been a different kind of follower.”

Xeph scoffed. Followers? The dveorg? Never. Allies, yes, but never followers. What would be the point? Their loyalty grants no faith, no conviction, nothing of any substance.

“Really?” Callan asked. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would some of the elevated races grant faith, but others not?”

Because dveorgs are not members of the elevated races.

“Oh, right, you said something about that before.” In all the chaos with losing his connection, it had slipped Callan’s mind. “Is that what you meant by ‘not a man’?”

Correct. Dveorg predate humanity’s arrival in the Outerworld by... Well, I don’t actually know. Perhaps that is still compressed. But a very, very long time.

Callan glanced around for Krov. Now that Xeph had returned, so did his appetite. Unfortunately, it appeared that the dveorg woman had departed sometime during the conversation with his head-mate.

You should get some rest, human. The next time one of the dveorg returns, I have a plan to get us out of here. In the meantime, you need to rest and recover from your ordeal.

“Yeah, about that.” Callan swallowed. Now that the god was back, he felt so much better he almost wanted to pretend like it had never happened, but another part of him needed to know what had happened with a burning desire. The two parts warred within him as he tried to find the right words.

“While we were... disconnected, or whatever...” He swallowed, his throat dry and scratchy and filled with a bitter aftertaste of bile. “Did my cancer return? Is that why I was so sick?”

What? Don’t be absurd, human. Even if I departed forever, your disease would not manifest itself so quickly!

“Then why did I feel like I was dying? I could barely move, and everything ached...”

Ah, that. Xeph was silent for a moment. I think it had to do with how we were separated. You know how I keep telling you of the checks and balances built into our relationship? How they exist to keep you from drawing too much power too quickly?

“Yeah?”

While we were apart, my power was still flowing through you, but you no longer had access to the enhanced physical traits I have granted. Your body in its natural state is not built to withstand such strain. So it overloaded as all your energy was turned to keeping you alive in the face of my awesome might.

Callan frowned. “What happens to us if this ever occurs again? The amount of power you have is only going to grow, right?”

Ah, but as you utilize the gifts I have granted you, as they integrate more with your body, suffering such ill effects should grow less severe over time, the god said. Of course, it is hard to say for certain, but I think we will be fine.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

He paused, then added, However, it would be best to avoid such capture again in the future.

“Yeah, no argument there.” Callan’s frown melted away with his worries. He wasn’t dying again. Sure, they might still be stuck in a cage, but he wasn’t dying. The cancer wasn’t back. He lay down, resting his back against the bars.

Good. Sleep, mortal. When the dveorg return, I want to be ready.

----------------------------------------

Callan slept well, probably because of how fitful his rest had been for the first day or so of his imprisonment, but well nonetheless. By the time Krov returned to check on him, he was awake again, and ravenously hungry.

Which is why when Callan saw she had no food with her, it was all he could do not to growl in frustration.

“Is ug-mun bet-ter?” Krov asked, peering into the cage. She stayed well out of reach, which ruined Xeph’s backup plan—grabbing the dveorg woman and using her as a hostage. “Is ug-mun read-y?”

We can still make this work, mortal. Quickly, pretend to collapse!

Callan stared at the dveorg girl and asked, “Ready for what?”

Instead of answering, she tottered off into the dark. Callan lunged at the bars, but she was gone. “Wait! What about some food?”

Well, that didn’t go according to plan. Any of the plans. Why did you speak to the dveorg instead of faking further sickness? Once she got close, we could have grabbed her—

“And then what, Xeph? There’s nobody else around to negotiate with.” Callan leaned back. “We’ll try again when she returns with the chief.”

Fine. I am a god of stone and mountains. I can be patient.

“Oh really.” Callan did his best not to laugh, but some hint of it must have made it into his voice.

What are you implying, mortal?

“Only that you are without a doubt the least patient god I’ve ever met.”

What foolishness is this, I’m the only god you’ve ever met!

Callan shrugged. “Doesn’t change the fact. Bet even after I meet all the other gods of the Outerworld, I’ll be all, ‘yep’, Xeph is the least patient of them all.”

Bah. This coming from the avatar who could not even be bothered to gather our priests before exploring an unknown cave. Be careful who you cast accusations at, mortal, lest they be turned right back around at you!

“That is harsh, but fair.” Callan squinted into the dark, but there was no sign of Krov or the chieftain yet. He leaned back again. “Hey, so how long do you think it’ll take for Argas and Paeral to figure out where we are? I half expected them to stage a rescue already.”

And why would you expect such a thing?

“I mean, we did leave a gaping hole in the back of that one room. Should be pretty obvious to anyone who sticks their head in there.”

Ah, but I doubt that tunnel is there anymore. Likely the dveorg have sealed it up already with their own Stone Shaping.

Callan sat up so fast he almost hit his head on the ceiling. “They can do that?”

He recalled a fuzzy memory of the wall peeling away before Krov first appeared. It seemed that hadn’t been merely a fever dream after all.

My orison is modeled after the dveorg’s innate ability. Several of them are, in fact, but especially Shape Stone. It is how their species navigates life beneath the surface. Or did you think that the tunnel we discovered occurred naturally?

In truth, Callan hadn’t given it much thought, but Xeph made a great deal of sense. The tunnel had been sealed somehow before he came along, and there had been no evidence of tools or mechanisms involved. He just hadn’t considered what might happen to it after his capture.

“So you’re saying we’re on our own down here,” he said.

I fear so.

“Then we really better hope the chief is willing to negotiate. Though I’m not sure Krov alone is going to cut it as a hostage. They didn’t seem to think much of her earlier.”

She will just have to do. What other choice is there?

Callan considered the question. “I don’t know yet. We need more information. Maybe if we can find out why they kidnapped the lud children, we can—”

Lights flicked on overhead. The transition from dark to bright was so sudden, Callan’s eyes had no time to prepare. He slapped his hands over them as pain momentarily rocketed through him. Even covered, the cursed light still shone through.

It took almost a full minute before he dared lower his hands and risk cracking open an eye. The chamber his cage occupied was still empty. Around him were the circular walls he could just barely make out, now revealed in all their glory. He saw they were not as smooth as he’d originally thought, but covered with carvings of animals he didn’t recognize.

In front of him, the image of an enormous fish-like creature began to waver. The upper half of the wall shook, then flowed up into the ceiling. Behind it, maybe ten feet or so off the ground from him, were rows of seats, all of which were filled with cheering, shouting dveorg.

Their chieftain sat in their midst, watching Callan. His black eyes blinked slowly, and a wicked smile spread across his face.

Whatever was going on, Callan had a bad feeling about it.

More walls flowed upward, until the entire room’s second level was filled with cheering, screaming dveorg. Callan’s gaze flitted back and forth as each section revealed itself.

When the last wall’s rumbles faded away, the far end of his cage fell open.

Callan hesitated, unsure if this was some sort of trick. When nothing else happened, he crawled his way forward and out of the cage. Rising to his feet, he turned in a slow circle, taking in the crowd of dveorg.

“Any idea what’s going on?” he asked. Reaching inside of himself, he tried to summon Mountainform, but nothing happened. The cage’s proximity must still be suppressing his powers.

If I am recalling correctly, I believe this is how they honor guests.

“Somehow, I doubt it. Honestly, it feels more like a gladiatorial arena.”

I don’t know what that is.

“Gladiators were—oh.” Callan watched another section of wall peel away, at floor level this time. A single dveorg stepped through, the wall sealing itself behind him. “Yeah, never mind. This is definitely a gladiatorial arena.”

The dveorg that strode across the sand was... well, simply calling him ‘muscular’ felt like it wasn’t doing the creature justice. He had muscles everywhere. Everywhere. His biceps, his shoulders, his legs, his neck—how the hell did you even go about building muscles in your freaking neck?

The guy looked like he could pick Callan up and snap him in half over his knee. Which was saying a lot, considering the dveorg was still no more than two feet tall. It was like the world’s buffest Chihuahua had learned to walk on two legs.

When he was about five feet away, the dveorg stopped and raised his arms, turning in a slow circle. The crowd’s cheers grew ten times louder. From his place in the stands, the chieftain rose to his feet.

“You!” He pointed at the miniscule-yet-muscular man. “Fight well and bring hon-or to Ish-ka-plet! Show the ug-mun the strength of the vorgs!”

Cheers echoed through the chamber. Xeph muttered, I still want to know if that’s the name of the chief or the tribe.

“Yeah, not really our top concern right now.”

The chief turned to Callan. “You, ug-mun! Fight well! You sur-vive three fights, Ish-ka-plet give you free-dom! This I pro-mise as chief.”

Hmm, so Ishkaplet must be the tribe. Good to know.

Callan, however, was more interested in what else the chief had said. Three fights? He glanced at the muscular dveorg, who even now was striding towards him.

It wouldn’t be easy, but somehow, he’d see his way through them. Then maybe he could negotiate for the return of the lud.

“Now, fight!” the chief roared. The muscular dveorg charged towards Callan.

Without his orisons and manifestation, Callan didn’t have many resources to draw on other than his fists and feet. And since he didn’t relish getting down on one knee to punch a guy, he went with the latter.

His foot shot out as the dveorg dashed forward. The little warrior must have trusted in his massive muscle strength, because he didn’t even try to dodge.

So it was something of a surprise for both of them when Callan’s foot caved his face inward.

The dveorg’s nose crumpled like a soggy paper bag. Teeth sprayed outward to either side, and blood splattered the arena floor. Callan stared in shock as the dveorg’s arms pinwheeled several times before he tumbled backwards. He lay there, unmoving.

Silence reigned in the stands. Every dveorg stared at Callan in open-mouthed shock.

Mortal, what did you do??? You just had to defeat the creature, not destroy him utterly!

“I—that’s—how was I supposed to know that would happen?” Callan watched the motionless warrior.

You’re an avatar. Your strength is beyond that of mortal men now.

“Not by that much. With that negative I only have, like, ten Brawn!”

And this dveorg is essentially no bigger than a human toddler. Would you kick a toddler? No, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.

Callan’s head snapped up as the wall parted again. Six dveorg ran out, each brandishing a spear. Three lowered their weapons at Callan while the others dragged the comatose warrior from the arena. He watched them retreat, and a moment later the wall sealed shut behind them.

Above, the chieftain rose from his seat once again. His face had an angry cast to it, but he still nodded as he stared Callan down. “You win, ug-mun. One bat-tle done. Two will fol-low.”

With that, the wall dropped in front of him. Like cascading dominoes, the others followed, until Callan once again stood alone in the center of the arena.

“So, is there any chance of getting a victory meal?” Callan shouted. His voice echoed around the chamber. “Hello? Is that a maybe?”

Overhead, the lights winked out again. Callan stood in the dark and sighed.

“Well okay, then.”