Callan wasn’t sure how long he sat in the dark—certainly no more than an hour—when the stone wall began to rumble again. A bobbing shape carrying another blue-flamed lantern appeared from inside.

Krov.

The dveorg girl stepped hesitantly inside, then glanced back as the wall sealed up behind her. When she turned back, Callan was only a few steps away, staring down at her. She let out a terrified squeak and dropped the lantern.

“Whoa, whoa! It’s okay, I won’t hurt you,” he said quickly.

Mortal, weren’t we planning to hold her captive and negotiate for our freedom?

“The plan’s changed, Xeph.” If the other two fights were anything like the first one, Callan figured he’d be free in no time. Might as well play along and try to earn some goodwill to help the children.

Though, with that said...

“How is he? The muscly warrior?” he asked.

“Chief son will sur-vive, ug-mun.” Krov appeared to have recovered somewhat. She retrieved her lantern and held it up. “But all know now he is weak. Chief is not hap-py with him.”

Callan groaned. “That was the chieftain’s son? Seriously?”

He was really regretting not taking it easier now.

Krov shrugged. “He is weak. You, strong. It is way of life.”

Reaching into her pocket, she drew out a pair of bracelets. She held them out to Callan.

“You wear. Then Krov take you to room.”

Callan slipped the bracelets over his wrists. Surprisingly, they were a perfect fit, almost like they had been made for him. In his head, Xeph grunted noncommittally.

Dveorgan construction. Always of the finest materials, but lacking much in the way of style.

Once the bracelets were on, Krov reached the lantern up. Even though he’d been expecting it, Callan jumped a little as the flames leapt onto his bracelets. They began to glow with the same blue runes as the bars of his cage.

The wall behind Krov slid apart again. She turned and walked into the tunnel. “Come, ug-mun.”

“I have a name, you know,” he said, getting down on his hands and knees to follow. Luckily it was more than wide enough to allow him to move easily, but he wouldn’t be running away any time soon, that was for sure. “It’s Callan.”

“You ug-mun. That is good e-nough for you.”

She led him down a series of long passageways, through several intersections where the ceiling rose so high that he could have walked at a stoop if he’d wanted, and past several empty rooms. Most bore the same scrollwork of unfamiliar animal life the arena had. They didn’t pass any other dveorg.

“Nice place,” Callan remarked to Xeph as they walked. “Seems rather cozy. Bit lacking in décor for my tastes, though. Makes your temple seem lavish in comparison...”

He trailed off. They had passed by a window, and while too small to crawl through, it still afforded a decent view of what lay outside.

Callan stared, open-mouthed. It appeared the room they were currently in was near the top floor of a tower or some other tall building, as the view stretched for quite a ways. A city lay below, with dozens, if not hundreds of buildings, all carved directly from the stone itself. He couldn’t see any seams or gaps. Rather, it was like the city was one solid piece.

And the throng that filled that city... it was a teeming mass of dveorg. Tiny dveorg moving about on business or standing on street corners talking. Dveorg bustling behind counters of shops or leaning out of windows to air laundry. Workers repairing a lamppost beside the road. Dveorg children chasing after a ball inside a small, dusty park.

A hustling, bustling city. All of it underground.

Many of the inhabitants simply walked about, but an equal number piloted small mechanical vehicles similar to a motorcycle, weaving their way through the crowds. Others rode on the backs of what looked like pony-sized spiders, with legs that stretched over the heads of the dveorgs going about their lives below.

As Callan watched, one of these drove their spider towards a wall and immediately began scrambling up it. The rider hardly seemed fazed at all as the entire world pitched and tilted around him.

Callan leaned out a little further, then jerked back as an enormous hairy body passed over the window. A second later it was gone. He leaned out and saw the spider crawling its way up the building. Slowly, he pulled his head back in. His heart was pounding.

His dveorgan guide watched him, her expression unreadable. She motioned him onward. “Ug-mun fol-low. Ug-mun go this way.”

“Uh, sure.” He fell in behind the dveorg, and they set off again. More twisting tunnels, though this time Callan paid them little attention.

What is wrong, mortal? Xeph asked. You seem disturbed. Your heart rate is fluctuating erratically.

“I guess I wasn’t expecting this place to be so big,” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth. He needn’t have bothered, as his guide was ignoring him completely.

Why is that? You saw the crowd gathered in the arena.

“Well yeah, but I still figured this was the underground version of some pre-industrial tribe. I didn’t figure they’d have an entire city! There must be ten thousand dveorg outside, at least. And did you see the machines some of them were riding? That’s technology closer to what we have in my world.”

Hmm. I think I understand. Your issue is not so much with the size of the population as it is with their level of progress. You thought this a primitive culture, yes?

“I mean, I guess?” Callan shrugged, though it occurred to him the effort was wasted when his head-mate likely couldn’t even see the gesture. “You’d think they’d speak a bit more eloquently, at least. Not all of this cave man speech.”

Be careful, mortal, that you do not confuse simplicity of language for simplicity of mind. The dveorg were always an advanced race, even before my eons of incarceration. If their words imply anything less than that, it is a fault of my translation, and nothing else.

Callan stopped. “Wait, really? You’re translating everything I hear?”

Of course. I have been processing all the words you both speak and hear so that they are compatible with those around you. Or did you think that the races of the Outerworld all spoke the same languages as that of Earth, unchanged after nearly two thousand years?

“I honestly hadn’t given it that much thought, but when you put it that way...” Callan considered that for a moment. “So, you’re saying the dveorg sound strange because they’re more difficult to translate? Is that because they’re non-humans?”

“Ug-mun,” Krov called out, and Callan realized she’d gotten a fair ways ahead of him. He crawled quickly to catch up.

The dveorg girl stood in front of a stone archway. Callan peered inside, and saw that it was a small room, though with a higher ceiling than the hallway, tall enough he’d be able to stand. A bed sat in one corner beneath a window that looked out over the city.

“In-side. You wait here.” Krov motioned him through, so he crawled into the room. Once there, he saw a plate of food, the same mushy material from before, on a table beside the bed.

“Thanks. Any chance of getting—” His words met only empty stone as he turned around. Krov had already sealed the archway behind him.

Sighing, he made his way over and picked up the food. Besides the plate, the table also had a small potted plant which looked like a fern, except it was solid white and glowing slightly. More lanterns flickered along the wall, with those same blue flames as before.

He sat on the bed, and found it surprisingly comfortable, though made of a material he couldn’t place. Leaning back, he dug a spoon into the mush. It was more tasteless than he’d expected, and he hadn’t been expecting much.

Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

“So you’re translating everything I hear and say,” he commented, swallowing a large mouthful of mush. Bland though it was, he’d have eaten all of this and more happily.

That is correct. One of the many gifts I bestow upon you as my avatar.

“What about words like ‘ug-mun’? How come I hear that instead of the translation?”

The answer to that question is simple: because that is the dveorg word for you. If it meant something else, I would translate it as such.

“Huh, okay.” Callan wondered about all the times he’d mentioned Earth subjects in front of the lud. Did they hear the actual words, or something else that made sense in their own language?

He focused on finishing the food, after which he brought up his stat screen. As he’d suspected, he still showed a negative five in all of his stats, and all his abilities were still listed as locked. Even though the bracelets he wore didn’t have nearly as many runes, they must have been stronger versions. Or maybe it was because they were in direct contact with his skin.

Whatever the reason, he was stuck here for the moment. His best chance of escape lay in completing the remaining trials the dveorg chief had prepared for him. One done already, only two more to go.

But learning about the city outside had Callan worried. If the chieftain didn’t have the missing lud children, locating them might be more difficult than he’d originally expected.

Well, one problem at a time. First, he’d win his freedom, then he could worry about freeing Xeph’s followers.

Outside the window, the city bustled about on its busy schedule. Several more of those giant spiders passed by, but otherwise Callan was left alone.

He lay down on the bed and discovered that he was much more tired than he’d thought. Apparently, his brief fight had taken it out of him. Closing his eyes, he let himself drift off to sleep, belly full, and the chatter of the city a distant background noise in his ears.

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

He spent at least two more days in the room, waiting. More food appeared while he slept, but he never saw anyone else, not even Krov, until she returned at last to collect him.

They made their way back through the tunnels, a confusing maze of twists and turns. Even if Callan were to make a break for it, he knew he’d be lost in minutes. The layout made Xeph’s temple seem simplistic.

Actually, he was surprised that this city could exist almost side-by-side with the temple. Surely they must have intersected in more places than the one room.

They arrived at a blank wall, and Callan had his first chance to watch dveorg stone shaping in action. It seemed very similar to his own orison. Krov simply grasped an invisible lump of clay and manipulated it to her liking, the stone around her obeying in turn.

A moment later, the path into the arena lay open. Callan crawled past the dveorg, then onto his feet as the ceiling rose above him.

The stands were already revealed. If possible, they had more dveorg than before, a crowded mass cheering and jeering at his appearance. He gave a friendly wave, turning in place until he found the chief.

The dveorg chieftain was seated directly above where Callan had entered. He gave a knowing smile, then clapped his hands. The crowd fell silent.

“Ug-mun, you win first fight. But next fight not so ea-sy.” Now that Callan looked closely, he could see the chief’s mouth didn’t quite match up with the words he was hearing. Strange. He’d never noticed that with Kivi and the others. Or maybe he simply hadn’t noticed since he hadn’t been watching for it?

The chief was still talking. “If you wish free-dom, you must fight well. Show the Ish-ka-plet the strength of the ug-mun!”

He clapped his hands, and a string of dveorg emerged from the tunnel. They moved two abreast, a wooden box held between them. The dveorg struggled with their burden, but it couldn’t have been much bigger than a shoebox.

When they were all gathered, there were a total of five boxes placed around Callan at irregular intervals. The dveorg retreated, and the tunnel sealed behind them.

Callan studied the boxes apprehensively. Whatever was in them must be rather small, but there were five... was he supposed to open them on his own, or...?

Before he could decide, the first box began to shake. The others joined it, and the arena filled with the sounds of thrashing and angry hisses. The sound was oddly familiar.

One of the boxes tipped over, and its lid popped off. A small creature with a myriad of flailing limbs tumbled out. Under the blue flames of the arena, the creature glowed an electric green, but Callan knew it was more of a yellowish color under normal light.

Inside his head, Xeph growled. Velak! Disgusting creatures. Quickly, stomp them to bits before they can begin to swarm.

“You know, I’d love to do just that, Xeph. Except for the minor inconvenience of them being slightly highly acidic.”

Hmm, true. Best use a rock, then.

Callan glanced around, but there were no rocks to be found in the arena. There was only him and the velak, the last of which had just emerged from its crate. Two had already spotted him and were making their way forward with angry cries.

He backed up until his back hit the arena wall. Around him, dveorgs screamed for blood. “I thought these things weren’t normally aggressive.”

Normally, yes. These ones must have been bred by the dveorg specifically for pit fighting. Expect their acid to be stronger than the wild variety as well.

Oh, great. One of the velak took that moment to lob a ping-pong sized ball of goo at his head. Callan ducked, and the stone beside his head hissed and began to sizzle. Pebbles rained down on his shoulder as they came loose.

“Shit, shit, shit!” He turned and ran in a wide circle around the velak. They scurried faster, running after him. In the stands, the dveorg cheered.

He almost broke free of the enclosing circle when one of the velak leapt for him. Callan instinctively punched it away, then let out a pained yelp as acid poured over the back of his hand. He shook it off, but not before it ate through a layer or two of skin. The back of his hand was angry and raw.

In the meantime, the rest of the velak drew closer. Even the one he’d punched rolled back over and scuttled towards him with an angry hiss.

“If you’ve got any ideas, Xeph, now would be the time to share!”

Perhaps if you kick them like you did the toddler?

“That wasn’t a fucking toddler! He—gah!” Callan kicked out, and a velak went sailing. Unfortunately, it left a smear of acidic goo on his sneaker, which began to hiss angrily.

Reaching down, he pulled the shoe off entirely. At least this way he had a weapon he could use.

Another velak launched at him. Callan swung, and the creature went sailing into the air, where it crashed into the stands. Dveorg darted out of the way, and the air filled with what Callan assumed were angry curses. If they were, Xeph left them untranslated.

The other four velak rushed him. Damnit, he hadn’t even managed to take out a single one of them yet. He swung with his shoe, but unless one of the blighters jumped, he couldn’t do much.

Even a solid hit only knocked them away. He needed something sturdier than a shoe.

His eyes fell on the five crates, now standing empty. They looked like wood, but it must be something stronger for the velak not to eat their way through, right?

He needed one of those boxes. Dodging another attack, he used his shoe like a croquet mallet and knocked another aside. A path opened up. He launched forward.

Something struck him on the back. Pain seared through him. Callan scrabbled at the velak, but the beast was just out of reach near his spine and the pain was torrential. He spun about, trying in vain to grasp it.

It felt like his muscles were melting. Callan screamed, then ran towards the nearest wall. He spun at the last moment, smashing the creature between him and hard stone. A scream, a hiss. Another slam. The pain suddenly let up, though he could feel acid still burning away. He stumbled forward.

A box lay on hand only three or four feet away. Weaving drunkenly, he managed to reach it before the velak caught up. One of the creatures reared in front of him, stubby appendages whipping about, dripping yellow ichor. It let out a scream.

Callan slammed down the box. The scream cut off. He slammed it again, and again.

He lifted it up to swing a third time, then saw it was unnecessary. The creature lay twitching in its death throes at his feet. Behind him, the one he had crushed against the wall crawled forward slowly on broken legs. He approached in, then bashed its brains in as well.

Only two velak remained. The one he had thrown into the stands still hadn’t reappeared. Either the guards had killed it, or it had run off. He didn’t really care either way.

The two velak hissed and circled him, as if they recognized he was now more dangerous prey. Callan reached down, scooped up a second crate, then hurled it. The crate struck one of the velak, sending it tumbling.

He charged. Before the beast could recover, he slammed his box down, and was rewarded with a satisfying crunch.

The final velak let out a frightened squeak and began to run. It reached the far wall and began scrabbling at the stone. With a soft hiss, an opening began to grow as its acid ate away at the arena wall.

Before it got more than a few inches, Callan’s crate slammed into its back. It reared up in pain. He brought it down again, severing the monster’s front half from its back, blood and ichor gushed out, leaving a bubbling pool on the arena floor.

Callan rose unsteadily to his feet. He cast the moldering crate aside, then scanned the audience. His eyes found the chieftain’s. The dveorg was leaning forward, watching Callan with his unblinking gaze.

“Are you not entertained?” Callan roared. He pointed a finger, then reached down and picked up another crate. He hefted it, testing its weight.

The walls of the arena came slamming down, cutting Callan off from the dveorg. He threw the crate anyway, letting it shatter against the stone wall. The pieces fell and scattered across the floor.

Good job, mortal. I think you’re starting to win them over.

“Yeah, yeah.” The lights turned out overhead again, leaving Callan in darkness except for his bracelets. He glanced down and noticed that one of the runes was gone. Where the velak acid touched it lay only puckered metal now.

Frowning, he pulled up his stat screen.

-STATISTICS-

Brawn: 12 (-3 modifier)

Momentum: 9 (-3 modifier)

Fortitude: 27 (-3 modifier)

Concentration: 9 (-3 modifier)

Influence: 9 (-3 modifier)

Piety: 12 (-3 modifier)

-BOUNTIES-

God Bond: Talc – VIII

Manifestation: (Error — Locked)

Orison slot 1: (Error — Locked)

Orison Slot 2: (Error — Locked)

-DISPENSATIONS-

Perk 1: (Error — Locked)

Interesting. Removing one of the runes reduced the modifier but didn’t unlock any orisons. If I could just get a bit more velak acid...

Before he could move, the lower wall opened, and Krov stepped out. She was accompanied by at least ten guards this time. Callan tensed. Did they know what had happened to the bracelet?

But no. Krov motioned for him to enter the tunnel, so he got on his hands and knees and set off crawling again.

Two fights down. One to go.