Mike awoke shouting in darkness. He tried to rise, but slammed his forehead into something before his eyes opened. The thud cut his noises short, but not before other people hollered at him in a language he couldn’t speak.

  The diagnostic window before his eyes wasn’t hindered by the lack of light. The figure it displayed had a yellow head, with a small red spot. Mike reached up to rub his forehead, feeling the pain radiating through it. He reached out with his other hand, trying to find what he had hit. Rough wood met his fingertips, with a faint sense of motion.

  Sitting up much slower, Mike felt around him. He found that he was under a thin blanket, with a flat pillow behind his head. Someone had put him to bed. He twisted, putting his feet on the ground and standing. His bare feet. Someone had removed his shoes, his clothes. He was wearing a pair of light cloth pants, almost pajama pants. He didn’t see his own clothing anywhere.

  As he moved, a low light appeared above him, revealing he was in a small stone room. A large wooden door was at one wall, with the opposite ending in a low bench carved out of the stone of the wall. Water fell down the wall into a bowl-like recess before draining away into a hole. The bed filled almost a third of the floor and took up a whole wall. There was very little space.

  While Mike was studying the door, he heard a sound behind him. He spun and saw a man dropping down from the bed above his. Mike hadn’t realized it was a bunk bed. The man said something unintelligible. His tone was sleepy, tired, but Mike was pretty sure it was a question.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand you,” Mike said.

  The man was older than Mike, but in excellent shape. Wearing only the same loose cloth pants Mike did, his chest narrow but knotted with muscle. He projected an air of confidence and wiry strength. His gray hair melded into his beard, giving him a leonine appearance. He wasn’t tall, but Mike felt his powerful presence. He stepped forward, one hand extended as he kept talking.

  Mike’s focus flicked to the book in the corner of his vision, bringing it up. The first spell was the one he wanted this time, and he brought its icon up with a thought.

  Identify

  Spell, Minor Mana, sixty second duration.

  Learn information about an object or person you touch. More information is revealed at higher levels

  He focused on it, activating it as he had the dart when fighting the zombies. At the same moment, he stepped forward and grabbed the man’s hand. A jolt of energy passed through him and the man leapt back, shaking it.

  “Dammit boy, you should warn someone before you cast a spell on them,” the man said, shaking his hand.

  “I understood that,” Mike said, stunned. He had heard the unfamiliar words emerge from the man’s mouth, but the meaning hit him at the same time. It was disconcerting and disturbing, but hearing someone speak to him in an intelligible fashion was exciting. His heart beat faster and the pain of his head faded.

  “Of course you did, I spoke clearly.”

  “No, I’m sorry, I just didn’t…” Mike paused, drawing a deep breath. He realized he was speaking the same language the man had been. The feeling of unknown and understood words leaving his mouth was so bizarre he had to sit on the bed as his legs gave out. “What is going on?”

  Mike had a new icon in his screen, flashing. It resembled the symbol in the book, but was on the left hand side of his heads up display. He focused on it and it expanded in his vision.

  Haliard Morgenstern

  ??

  Class: ?? Level: ??

  “Haliard,” Mike said with a sigh. “I have to say, I have had the worst day.”

  “How do you know my… that was the spell you cast, wasn’t it? It tells you things about me.” The man headed back to the bench on the back wall and picked up a wooden cup. He held it against the back wall where the trickle of water soon filled it. He turned, offering it to Mike. “Tell me what is going on.”

  There was a note of concern in his voice, one that comforted Mark. He leaned forward on the edge of his bed, taking the cup of water. It was cold and tasted strongly of minerals, but it was refreshing as he drank deep. It had been too long since his last drink, which had occurred before… whatever it was that happened. Mark still didn’t know.

  “It gave me your name, at least. I think it lets me understand you too. For a time.” The window had the same countdown clock on it that the paralysis effect had earlier. It was almost over. “I’ll need to cast it again soon.”

  “Go ahead, you can…” The meaning of Haliard’s sentence faded away, but he kept talking. The man extended his hand again, though, so Mike gripped it and cast Identify the same way as before. Mike noticed a drop in his blue bar as he did.

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  “That tingles something fierce,” Haliard said, stepping back and shaking his hand. “So its about a minute?”

  “Yes, a minute.”

  “Got it. I can understand you without it, so keep talking. Tell me about your day.”

  “How can you understand me?” Mike was gathering his thoughts, trying to thing what to tell him. How far could he trust the man?

  “I have some abilities of my own. One of them is a gift of languages. It is an amazing power here in Slide.” Haliard took the cup out of Mike’s hand and filled it again. He handed it back and leaned against the wall, almost casual.

  Mike drew a deep breath and starting talking. About the people he met when he was transported here, how they treated him. He didn’t mention the windows that popped up in front of him, or what they did. Until he could trust Haliard, he wanted to keep that secret.

  When Mike told the older man about the arena and the zombies in it, he straightened. The casual twist to his shoulders fled and he squeezed his hands into fists. The change in temperament made Mike pause, nervous, but Haliard waved him to continue.

  His hands shook and the cup fell from his fingers when Mike described fighting the zombies. He stared at his bare feet, studying the stone between them as he stammered a bit. Haliard put his hand on Mike shoulder and squeezed. Mike looked up at him, dropping into silence. He said something in his unknown language, but his tone was honest, comforting.

  It was enough that Mike broke down crying. He put his head in his hands and sobbed. Minutes passed as they wracked his body, but Haliard’s hand didn’t leave his shoulder. He was muttering something. Mike focused on his tone, trying to get his tears under control.

  Once his tears passed, Mike once again took up his story again. He made it through the fight before fading into silence. The room was quiet as the last few shudders hit Mike. Finally, after Mike had trailed into silence, Haliard said something.

  “Hold on, give me your hand.” Mike’s mana had fully refiled while he was speaking, but if he had to cast Identify every minute, it would run out before too long.

  “I don’t know where you are from, but I know what happened.” Haliard moved to sit on the shelf in the back, ignoring the cold stone. Mike realized that the shelf also included a toilet behind the bunk bed, with the water flowing past an open hole. That will be inconvenient, Mike thought to himself as he waited for Haliard to continue.

  “Aric, scion of House Blurington, had his trial today. He was to call up a champion to fight, proving he could control the first level of power his station requires. His magic reached out into the multiverse and pulled you here, where they threw you into battle.”

  There was a lot of information that Mike needed to parse, but he let it pass in one ear and out the other.

  “That would explain their disappointment in seeing me when I arrived. They expected something better.” Mike forced a rueful laugh, which Haliard repeated. “What about you? How did you end up here?”

  “Oh, I’m one of House Blurington’s slaves too. I’ve been a pit fighter for a long time, they captured me on a raid a decade ago. Now I mostly train their newcomers. Like you.”

  “A slave?” Mike raised his hand to his neck, remember the collar that was around it earlier.

  “Yes. The Houses love their challenges and battles, relying on slave forces to…” Meaning lapsed as the spell ran out. As Mike reached out to touch Haliard and cast again, he caught a moment of meaning. Just a hint, barely, but it he recognized a turn of phrase. Was the spell helping him pick up the language?

  “Arghh. They use gladiatorial slave battles to settle disputes, as they feel that actually going to battle with each other will destroy too much. The House members are all powerful wizards, so I can’t blame them for thinking that. You and I are some of those gladiators, bound mystically to serve them.”

  At this, Mike got up and walked to the door. It was heavy wood, bound in iron, with rivets as thick as his thumb. He placed his hand on it and pushed, but there was no give. However, there was a faint sense of movement in the door. A hum that wasn’t audible, but still there. Mike focused on it, trying to trace it, but Haliard pulled him back.

  “Don’t mess with the door, it is enchanted. Not just an alarm one, either, but a shock that will put you on your ass.”

  Mike focused on where Haliard’s hand was touching him and cast Identify again since the clock was running out on the last one. It was faster this time, not taking as much conscious effort. In addition, Mike heard a small sound and felt something change in the spell. He called up the window again as he turned away from the door.

  Identify Level 2

  Spell, Minor Mana, seventy-five second duration.

  Learn information about an object or person you touch. More information is revealed at higher levels

  The information it revealed on Haliard had changed as well, even as the amount of mana stayed the same. If Mike was reading the new information right, he knew Haliard wasn’t just human. The instinctive trust he had in what was revealed made him confident he was right.

  Haliard Morgenstern

  Human/??

  Class: ??/?? Level: ??/??

  “The spell leveled up, it will last for over a minute now.” Mike headed back and sat on the bed.

  “Leveled up?” Haliard asked. He leaned against the wall again.

  “It got more powerful now that I used it.”

  “Huh, that is neat. You must be a natural wizard if spells are already getting more powerful for you. Did you have magic before you came here? Some places in the multiverse don’t.”

  “Not a single bit.” Mike started talking about his past, his home. How he graduated from college with a degree he didn’t care about to get a job that didn’t matter. The few friends and acquaintances he knew, the family he texted with occasionally. The total lack of magic.

  Reflecting on it, Mike felt on firmer ground. The world he was in now was different, almost unbelievable so. But Mike had felt the scratches when the zombies tore into him. Their flesh squishing under his blow. He had seen magic work, both on him and blasting out of his own hands. This was the world he was in, and Mike resolved to accept it.

  At least until he found a way back.

  Haliard was shaking his shaggy head by the time Mike wound down, trying to imagine what it is like in the world Mike came from. He had to cast Identify several more times while they talked, but no more level ups came. Mike’s mana was starting to get low, and the green bar he was thinking of as stamina as well Once Mike’s sentence was interrupted by a massive, jaw-cracking yawn, Haliard finally stood up.

  “Look kid, it’s late. How about we go to sleep, and we’ll talk more tomorrow. I’m supposed to start your training and I’ll answer your questions.”

  “What kind of training?”

  “Well, you’re a gladiator now. What kind of training do you think?”

  So many movies flashed through Mike’s mind. Basic training montages, combat simulations, all the visuals he had consumed over the years played as he leaned back and groaned. This drew a laugh out of Haliard.

  “Sounds like you know what kind of training it is.”