The wastes

Fenrir awoke. It could have been a week or an hour since he closed his eyes, with the same directionless light shining down on him and the same dead air surrounding him. But he felt refreshed, if thirsty, and with the beginnings of hunger stirring as well he determined to continue on immediately in search of anything more hospitable than this seemingly interminable desert plain.

A glance to his side revealed Elmeria still asleep, curled up on her side, his improvised restraints still securing her limbs. Sitting up, he looked at her, noting the tear tracks on her cheeks and the surprising innocence in her expression. Then she stirred, and her eyes fluttered open. Fenrir realized he was casting a shadow over her, but when he looked behind him, he could discern no greater brightness in the pale expanse behind him than anywhere else. Turning back to Elmeria, he was just in time to see the last remnants of that innocent expression vanish under a growing scowl as remembrance of the last few hours came back to her.

"Well, you're awake. Can you take these off me now, monster?" She sat up and proffered her bound hands as best she could, turning slightly sideways to do so.

"If you're going to use that kind of tone you're going to make me want to leave them on, if only to teach you to be more polite," Fenrir replied.

Elmeria glared daggers at him. "Oh please, kind master, take pity on a lowly **** and release her from her totally fair and not at all uncomfortable bondage," she pleaded in a tone which fairly dripped sarcasm.

Fenrir rolled his eyes. "That's not what I meant and you know it, but whatever." A moment later she was free again, and while she rubbed her wrists and muttered unpleasant things about him under her breath, Fenrir took the opportunity to use the strips of fabric to secure her dagger to his thigh, tired of carrying it in his hand. Then he stood up and looked about.

Their tracks had inexplicably vanished despite the lack of wind or rain to wash them away, but a few moments spent staring in each direction convinced Fenrir that there was something in the direction they had been heading. It looked almost too regular in shape to be mountains, but anything was better than nothing and he determined to reach whatever it was as quickly as possible.

To that end, he turned to Elmeria and lifted her to his shoulder again, ignoring her flailing and indignant protests at the nonconsensual manhandling. Cautioning her to hold on, he set off at a swift trot in the direction of those half-glimpsed shapes in the distance.

As before, it took Elmeria quite a while to settle down, though in this case her unease was more understandable. The greatly increased pace of movement felt easily swifter than most modes of travel she must have been accustomed to, even with the deceptive smoothness of Fenrir's preferred wolf-trot. While he was currently staying bipedal, Fenrir was reasonably certain that he could outdo even the swiftest of horses if he elected to travel on all fours, and even on two legs he was much faster than any but the most athletic of humans.

She did eventually relax, however, and after a while she even ventured to ask a question. "So do you even have a point to this trip?"

Fenrir glanced up at her briefly. "Certainly."

The silence stretched until Elmeria asked, "Well, are you going to tell me?"

"Oh, very well." Fenrir slowed enough to lessen the sound of the air rushing past and said, "If you look ahead you might be able to make out the outline of something in the far distance. It may be mountains or something else, but whatever it is, it's better than this desert, and if we don't find a source of food and water in the next few days, or at least in roughly an equivalent time, neither of us will survive to see Ruyanei again.

"It's also a good place to start looking for a Key. I doubt anyone using a Key to enter Apollyon would end up on this plain simply because there's no sign of any monsters out here. Considering the purpose of the Keys, placing their users way out in the middle of nowhere just doesn't make any sense, so I'm **** to conclude that we were placed all the way out here because of the banishing spell you used. I've been thinking, and I'm almost convinced that anything strong and smart enough to kill a hero that's been granted a Key of Apollyon would be smart enough to know or at least guess the significance of the Key. That doesn't explain why they don't use them to return to Ruyanei, though I do have several theories, but speculating without facts won't get me anywhere useful. Once I do have a Key there will be time enough to worry about why they're not being used. So for now, the plan is to track down the strongest monster we can find. The stronger they are, the better chance they hold a Key of Apollyon."

"What do you mean, 'the purpose of the Keys?'" Elmeria interrupted.

"Precisely that. You mean you don't know their purpose?"

"Well, I mean, I know as much as anyone does, but no one really knows," Elmeria said, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her voice.

Fenrir chuckled. "Fair enough, I suppose. Well, as I understand it, Keys of Apollyon are usually granted to exceptionally powerful or especially favored heroes of the Light for the purpose of giving them somewhere to fight monsters and grow their strength. After all, participating in actual combat, while more dangerous than training, also grows your strength much more quickly, correct?"

Elmeria nodded.

"Apollyon's status as a de facto prison for exceptionally powerful creatures of the Dark makes it an ideal training ground for heroes strong enough to hold their own against beings of such power, though it obviously carries significant risk as well. The part that confuses me is the magic ban. If you can't use magic or abilities here, it would make this place a **** trap for any class that relies on magic or abilities to any significant degree, and that's basically all of them. I have a couple theories on that as well, but without further evidence..." Fenrir trailed off, falling into thought.

"What are your theories?" Elmeria asked, in spite of herself.

"Hmm? Oh, none of this is substantiated in any way, so don't quote me on it, but I was wondering if possibly magic comes from some specific source in Ruyanei itself and therefore being in a different plane, specifically Apollyon, cuts off the connection to that source and makes using magic or abilities impossible that way. If we assume that holding a Key of Apollyon restores that connection, that would solve the problem of magic, not to mention giving any such heroes quite an unfair advantage. But it certainly wouldn't be the first time that's happened, so..." Fenrir shrugged, rather more carefully than normal to avoid unseating his passenger.

"Another theory is that if you come here voluntarily, your magic isn't suppressed the way it is if you're banished involuntarily. I also considered the possibility that only Dark-races have their magic stripped from them, but your presence disproves that unless whatever delineates between Light and Dark-races considers dark elves to sit on the Dark side of the line.

"Now, I like the first theory the best, but I don't actually understand how magic works 'under the hood', so to speak, so that's at best a tenuous guess. However, I do recall you mentioning that holding a Key gives you access to magic, so considering all the information I currently have, it or something like it seems to be the most likely theory."

Elmeria did not reply, but several times thereafter Fenrir caught her eyeing him with a new respect, not to mention increased trepidation.

With no more interruptions from his passenger, Fenrir quickly fell into thought, only paying a modicum of attention to where he was going. Mostly he dwelled on the events that had occurred just before his banishment and what might now be happening back on Ruyanei.

'Ariel referred to Apollyon as a timeless void. What that actually means I'm not sure, but one possible theory is that while we're in here, time isn't passing on the outside, ergo if we do find a way out it'll be at most only bare moments after we were banished. That'd be ideal, since it'd mean that I haven't lost the initiative in the rescue of Safara and if I play it right I'll even have flipped one of the most powerful players the Light has. Another way to interpret it is that time doesn't pass at an equivalent pace in Apollyon versus on Ruyanei, so a minute here could be a month on Ruyanei and the subsequent minute only a millisecond there. There's a couple major problems with that theory, though, not least of which is the fact that any Keyholders would probably have noticed and commented on it.

'It could also be the other way around, so while on the outside, time doesn't pass in here, but... Wait, how would that even work? Time in here doesn't move unless there's a connection to the outside? A little tough to wrap my head around that one. Maybe it's even a case of-' Fenrir shook his head. 'Bah, I could go in circles forever with this. The simple truth of the matter is that I just don't have enough data to draw any hard conclusions.

'If I assume that time passes at a roughly equivalent rate and Ariel didn't know what he was talking about (unlikely, but anyway), then Safara's probably still a prisoner and the rest of my girls were left without much of any idea about what went down. They're clever and capable, but do they actually care enough about Safara to try to rescue her? ...Yes, I think so. Kira at least was warming up to her and I think Chellise was coming around as well. Katari doesn't have the same hangups as the others since Safara was never helping to hunt her down like she was for the others. There is still the whole Light-race versus Dark-race debacle, and that particular business runs deep. There's thousands of years of history there, but it's harder to hate a single person than a group, especially if you live and work with the person for a while, so I think they'll all be on board for at least trying to help her, for my sake if nothing else. I haven't made any secret of my own preferences on the matter.

'Even if they're willing, though, can they really do anything? Let's run through what most likely happened after I got banished. After a couple hours of no word, the girls at camp probably sent someone to find out what happened. I told them how to access the secret passages, so most likely they'll make it into the citadel just fine, but then what? If they're able to get in touch with Safara she could tell them what happened, but if she was moved or a guard was set, then what?'

He was pulled from his thoughts by an unfamiliar scent. Sharp and musky, but old, stale. Its source seemed to be ahead and slightly to his right, so he adjusted his course, moving more quietly just in case whatever it was turned out to be less than friendly.

The still air meant that he came upon the smell's source almost immediately. Without warning the ground fell away in a roughly bowl-like depression some thirty feet across and ten feet deep. In the middle of this depression a rock jutted out of the ground at an angle, and under its overhang a dark hole was clearly visible. This close Fenrir could also faintly catch the scent of water and several other odors, among them the coppery tang of blood and the aroma of cooking meat.

Elmeria was giving the hole a doubtful look. "You're not planning on going down there, are you?"

"Unless you're hiding a canteen in one of your pockets, yes. I can smell food and water, among other things."

"Will you fit? That hole doesn't look very big."

"You'd better hope I do, or you'll be going in alone. We need water, and sooner rather than later."

Elmeria swallowed, not looking away from the cave entrance. Fenrir stepped forward, moving down to the center of the depression and peering into the hole. A passage led downwards at a steep angle, thankfully large enough to permit the passage of his body.

Lowering Elmeria from her perch atop his shoulder, he began crawling into the hole. As he disappeared into the darkness of the tunnel, he could hear the dark elf shuffle her feet nervously behind him before she followed. Thankfully the tunnel widened before long, becoming large enough to allow him to stand erect. Its slope lessened as well, making it easier to walk downwards without slipping on the smooth stone underfoot. Fenrir noted that it seemed to have been worn smooth by the passage of many feet over a period of hundreds, perhaps thousands of years. The sharp, musky smell he had noticed on the surface was also much stronger here, though still not fresh.

Elmeria having by this time caught up with him, he started on downwards.

"Wait!" she cried. "Don't leave me here alone!"

Fenrir stopped. "Then keep up. It's not like I'm hurrying."

"But it's too dark. I can't see anything."

Fenrir's eyebrows rose in surprise. There was a real note of fear in her voice, try as she might to bury it under a haughty demeanor. "Are you afraid of the dark?" he asked.

Elmeria flushed. "Of course not," she said.

Fenrir studied her for a moment. She didn't seem to be lying, but she was afraid of something, of that there was no doubt. "Do you have some idea of what may be down here?"

She shook her head, still peering apprehensively into the dark around her, eyes darting back to find Fenrir's every few seconds as though worried he would vanish.

'Maybe she's just nervous about being abandoned. She is pretty much helpless here, after all.' Fenrir reached out and took her hand, making the dark elf jump. "Here, I'll guide you."

Elmeria's flush deepened, but she did not protest. Instead, her grip tightened as Fenrir stepped forward into what for her must have been impenetrable blackness.

The tunnel wound back and forth as it descended, but before long Fenrir became aware of a flickering light ahead. He stopped to peer around the last bend before the source of the light, and found what could only be a guard post, lit by burning braziers and manned by small, green-skinned manlike creatures.

"Goblins," Elmeria whispered beside him. "What are they doing here?"

Fenrir shrugged. "More relevantly, why is there a guard post here? Is there an underground city further down?"

"A city? Out here?"

"If you have any better reasons for there being stonework like that down here, I'm listening."

"I don't know. I had better things to do than study what passes for a culture amongst goblins," Elmeria shot back.

"Well, only one way to find out." Straightening, Fenrir made to step out into the open.

Elmeria grabbed his arm frantically. "Wait, what are you doing?!"

"Finding out what they're doing down here, of course, what else?" Fenrir replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Idiot! If you go out there they're going to kill you!" she hissed, not letting go of his arm.

Fenrir's lips twitched. "They might try, but I'm not worried. Your concern for me is touching, however. Up till now you almost had me convinced that you despised me."

Elmeria's face flamed red. "You- I- I don't-" She huffed. "Fine then, go and get yourself killed, you insufferable prick. See if I care."

Fenrir smirked. Stepping around the corner, he advanced on the guard post at a leisurely stroll. He made it about halfway over the fifty feet between the corner where Elmeria still hid and the stone barricade before a goblin noticed him.

Instantly, pandemonium reigned.

With shrieks and high-pitched yells the goblins leapt to action. Archers leveled their bows at him while a squad of goblins holding swords and spears poured from the gate and raced to surround him. They jabbered at him constantly in what he could only assume was Gobbish, but seemed **** to approach within ten feet of him.

Fenrir held out his hands in a placating gesture. Raising his voice in order to be heard over the din, he shouted, "I come in peace! Are there any here who can speak Kharovian?"

There was some more jabbering, then a goblin which seemed to be the leader spoke in broken Kharovian. "Why you here? No come closer, we kill!"

"I've come for the water I can smell here. I have no interest in harming you or yours if you do not attempt to harm me."

Some more jabbering among the goblin warriors ensued, then, "You, follow. Chief decide what do with you."

"Wait," Fenrir said, then turning, he shouted back to Elmeria, "Come here!"

There was no response for several seconds, then Elmeria stepped out of her hiding place and reluctantly approached. The goblins were sent into a new frenzy at the sight of her, screaming and jabbering, the leader shouting, "No Light-race! We kill!"

"YOU WILL NOT KILL!" Fenrir roared, making himself as intimidating as he could despite Warmth's softening effect. "She is my ****. You have nothing to fear from her."

The goblins went silent at his outburst, eyes wide and round, most of them retreating several steps for good measure. Fenrir looked around at each of them slowly, trying to appear as impressive as possible. "She is my ****," he repeated. "Whoever harms her without my permission shall feel my wrath."

They did not reply, but an opening formed in the circle around him through which Elmeria approached, stopping beside him.

"Follow," said the goblin leader again. "Make **** behave, or we kill. Also no more shout. You hurt ears."

Elmeria swelled up indignantly at being called a ****, but thankfully she heeded Fenrir's warning look and stayed silent.

Roughly half the goblins at the guard post came with them, surrounding Fenrir and Elmeria as they walked, though Fenrir noticed they maintained a respectful distance. Odd-looking lamps placed at intervals along the tunnel dispensed a yellow light, though their coverage was far from uniform, leaving patches of the path in shadow.

As they walked, Elmeria looked up at Fenrir and asked in an undertone, "Why do they think I'm your ****?"

"Because I told them so," Fenrir replied. "Surprisingly enough, they're not exactly fond of Light-races, and this was the easiest way to make you tolerable to them. Also, it makes you my property, so I now have reason in their eyes to be angry if anything is done to or with you without my permission. I'm sure you have some idea of what would happen to you on your own. If they risk angering me, however, that changes things."

"I don't belong to anyone," Elmeria hissed, scowling.

"For your own sake you had better pretend you do," Fenrir warned. "They would be only too eager to kill you, or worse, if they thought you were anything other than my ****."

Elmeria shivered, Fenrir's words seeming to conjure painful memories. "Okay fine, we do it your way for now."

She was about to say something more, but the words became lost in her throat as without warning they came out onto a ledge, the tunnel opening up into a truly impressive cavern. In the center of the cavern not far from the roof hung a large yellow semi-solid ball of light, seemingly contained by a latticework of thin golden bars and bathing the entire cavern with a warm golden light. Below this ball, which roiled and eddied inside its containment, a large city sprawled to the far corners of the cavern. The tunnel they had been following had come out into the cavern at about the same level as the miniature sun, giving them an excellent view of the gigantic subterranean chamber. In the center of the city a mighty stalagmite rose towards the ball of light, honeycombed by windows and balconies, beautifully carved and with occasional stone gardens carved out of the rock itself. Fenrir noticed that aside from the stalagmite and a handful of stone buildings here and there the city seemed fairly ramshackle, constructed out of wood and sprawling out across the floor of the cavern without regard. A fleeting curiosity about where they had gotten the wood flashed through his mind, but most of his attention was preoccupied with the tiny sun, and the stalagmite beneath it.

"This cavern wouldn't happen to be called Blackreach, would it?" he asked the goblin they were following, smiling at his own joke.

Unsurprisingly, the goblin didn't get the joke. "No, is Goblintown. Follow!" And he started along the ledge which wound downwards along the wall of the cavern towards its base.

"Blackreach?" Elmeria whispered.

"A place I ...visited through the eyes of another, some time past. The size of the cavern and the miniature sun hanging in the center there reminded me of it," Fenrir replied in a similarly low tone. Elmeria gave him a curious look but refrained from asking more questions.

As they passed through the city towards the giant stalagmite, goblins stopped in their normal pursuits to stare at the strange procession and to ask questions in Gobbish to their escort. The leader of the procession invariably replied with a short burst of syllables and a sharp gesture towards the stalagmite, which, while it did not seem to satisfy anyone's curiosity, did shut them up. It also brought most of them along, all but a few dropping whatever they had been doing to follow Fenrir and his guard, so by the time they reached the center of the city they had collected a sizable crowd.

Fenrir took the opportunity to study the goblins more closely. The males were far from handsome, most being somewhat scrawny and slightly under four feet tall. Large, beaklike noses and extremely sharp chins were the norm, with crafty, close-set eyes and large bat-like ears. Hair was rare, though every now and then a goblin could be seen sporting a mohawk.

Wait, no, those were females. Fenrir's brows raised slightly as he shifted his scrutiny to them. The females were almost without exception shortstacks in the most literal sense. While they possessed little of the ethereal beauty of an elf or even the seductive loveliness of a succubus, they had sex appeal in spades, and they were good-looking in a sensual, earthy sort of way. Several were positively cute.

But their best assets were without a doubt their bodies; deliciously thick thighs swelling into wide hips which narrowed into much slimmer waists than one would expect before swelling again to support large, firm breasts which appeared even bigger on the diminutive women. In another contrast to the usually scrawny males, the females ranged from slim but healthy to positively chubby, though nowhere could Fenrir find a goblin who didn't wear her weight well. Many were also clearly pregnant, though as one might expect from a Dark-race, it didn't seem to slow them down any.

They sported every hairstyle one could imagine, though in general they seemed to prefer shorter hairstyles to longer ones. Most had dyed some or all of their hair bright and eye-catching colors. Jewelry, while simple, was omnipresent, every goblin female and many of the males wearing a seemingly random assortment of gold bracelets, necklaces, anklets, armbands, and most ubiquitous, piercings in ever more unlikely places. Fashion otherwise was scarce, everyone but the warriors on duty wearing nothing more than a simple loincloth, even the females who proudly bared their breasts to the world. Nor were they unaware of the effect their bare chests had on men, either, as evidenced by one goblin female noticing Fenrir's gaze lingering on her breasts for a moment and promptly swaying them back and forth with a pleased smirk.

Children were everywhere, screaming and shouting, playing and fighting, hanging from the rooftops and popping out of windows and doors to shout questions or comments in Gobbish at whoever cared to listen. If they got in the way of an adult, they would be shunted to one side with no more concern than if they had been a sack of potatoes.

Once the procession reached the stalagmite they were guided through a massive doorway over twice as tall as Fenrir, the remains of twisted metal hinges still visible on either side. Down a similarly sized hallway with various smaller doors opening off of it, then up a short flight of stairs and they came out into a large chamber in the center of the stalagmite. It looked like a large amphitheater, rows of low stone benches descending in a semicircle to an open space, at the far side of which on a dais were set two large thrones carved out of the rock itself. Flanking these two thrones were two tables with a row of seats behind them, facing out towards the rest of the amphitheater. The place was lit by a shaft in the ceiling which extended all the way up through the stalagmite until it reached the top, allowing the miniature sun to flood this chamber with the same golden light as the cavern outside.

Numerous goblins occupied various seats in the amphitheater, the crowd following Fenrir and his escort breaking off and filing into the rows of seats as they moved down the main aisle towards the thrones. Fenrir noticed that in direct contrast to the outside, there were no children at all in the amphitheater. At the tables to either side of the thrones sat a number of goblins both male and female, all clearly advanced in age, but Fenrir's attention was focused on the thrones themselves.

One was empty, but on the other sat by far the largest goblin Fenrir had seen yet. Almost six feet tall, he easily towered over his brethren, and unlike the male goblins Fenrir had seen so far who at best could only be described as wiry, he was muscled well enough to put most humans to shame. Besides the standard loincloth, he wore a crown made of large fangs and from a string around his neck depended a strange iridescent stone about an inch across.

His face, Fenrir noted as they stopped in front of the large goblin, appeared more intelligent than most goblins, his eyes clever but not as close-set as most. His jawline too was stronger, and his forehead more developed. Unlike any other goblins, he even had a mustache, braided at the ends and dangling past his chin on either side of his mouth, and a short black beard. When he spoke, his voice was deeper than any other goblin Fenrir had heard, though there were traces of the same squeakiness in certain syllables.

When they had come to a stop, Fenrir and Elmeria's guide bowed and spoke in Gobbish. The large one replied with what was clearly a question, answered by the other. There was a moment's silence, then the large one spoke in Kharovian. "Welcome, visitor to my domain! I am Chief Shazrak, and these are my people. Tell me, what is your name, and what brought you and your **** to my lands?"

Giving a respectful but dignified nod, Fenrir answered, "It is an honor to meet you, Chief Shazrak, and to see your city. My name is Fenrir, and put simply, what brought me is the need for water. I came by way of the wastes above, where, as I'm sure you're aware, there is nothing either to eat or to drink."

Shazrak nodded gravely, his eyes briefly gleaming with pride when Fenrir mentioned his city. "I have not seen one of your kind before. From where have you come?"

Fenrir hesitated a moment before answering, debating the wisdom of telling the truth. More than ever he wanted the insight God's Eye could give him. But from what he could tell, this chief did not seem to harbor any ill will towards him, so he answered, "I come from Ruyanei, and I seek a Key by which I might return there."

An excited buzz erupted from the seats behind him at these words, the chief sitting upright and examining him even more closely than before. The old goblins at the two tables whispered back and forth, peering at him with open curiosity.

Fenrir continued, "All I ask of you is that I be given water and allowed to go on my way, though if you have information on the whereabouts of a Key, I would not be averse to lending a hand with any problems you may have in exchange for the information. To my sorrow, I have little to trade at this time other than my strength and my fighting prowess."

Chief Shazrak sat for a moment longer, evaluating Fenrir, before he stood and said, "You must be weary from your journey above, and I see that you have been injured. Rooms will be given to you where you may rest, and healers will be sent to tend to your wounds. A feast will be held at the third chime, where we may conduct our business as befits the receival of such an honored guest. In the meantime, your **** can be housed in the **** quarters, unless you wish to keep her close."

Fenrir bowed his head again. "My thanks, honored chief. The healers are unnecessary, as my wounds have already healed, but a means by which I could wash myself would be appreciated. I do prefer to keep my **** at my side for the time being- Ah, I nearly forgot. My **** has suffered a sprained wrist, so if your healers are capable of treating such an injury, I would be grateful if one could take a look at her."

Chief Shazrak nodded. "It will be so."

So much description in this one! Hopefully I was able to make it interesting enough to avoid putting anyone to sleep. We also get our first look at living beings in Apollyon other than Fenrir and Elmeria. Next chapter we'll learn a little more about the culture of this particular goblin tribe, which I'll tell you right now is a bit atypical for goblins.
Also some handholding. Spicy.
Enjoy!