Sand in the Hourglass

Myrina was quick to obey, returning to where Fenrir stood while the dragon was still a fair distance away. The rest of them hadn't been idle either; Tsavani had already vanished into the shadows of one of the nearby structures, working her way around to the dragon's blind side, while Nelith readied her new and improved fireballs from a slight off-angle. Fenrir had remained where he was, awaiting the dragon's approach.

God's Eye told him it was mature, though relatively young, and afflicted by the same Curse of Apollyon as Myrina and Tsavani currently were. He wondered briefly whether that meant they wouldn't need to worry about any breath attacks, and also whether that was why it didn't seem able to fly despite its age. He wasn't given the time to identify any weak points other than the obvious, however, as the dragon was quick to make its move.

With a roar that made him lay his ears flat back against his head, it rushed at him, each step sending tremors through the surrounding stonework. Dodging the initial snap of its jaws, Fenrir brought his axe down on its face, but to little apparent effect. On its other side, Myrina's punch did a little more, knocking the horse-sized head towards him and forcing him to dodge again to avoid being bowled off his feet.

It reared back, hissing; the sound was less like that of an angry cat and more like a broken fire hydrant. Nelith took the opportunity to loose her fireballs, and Fenrir watched as they broke against the scales of the dragon's neck, flames licking at the area hungrily until one of its massive claws came up to scrape at the searing heat.

Once the fires were snuffed out, however, there was little to indicate that any real damage had been done. Seeing this, Fenrir shouted, "Aim for weak points, Nelith!" as he tested his axe's blade against the furred collar that sat at the base of the dragon's neck. It drew a little blood but not enough to satisfy him, and a moment later he had to dodge again as the dragon spun, lashing out with its tail.

Myrina was a little too slow to avoid the attack and it clipped her, sending her spinning. She came up fast, apparently unhurt, and rushed back into melee range, taking advantage of another of Nelith's fireballs exploding across the dragon's face to deliver a flying dropkick into its foreleg, right at the joint.

It roared again, limping back and shaking its head side to side to try to rid itself of the blinding flames that covered most of its head. It seemed Nelith had chosen to alter her fireballs for a napalm-like effect rather than the maximum heat she had employed for the first volley.

Taking advantage of its confusion, Fenrir leaped for the dragon's back, discarding his axe in favor of his claws as he did so. They did a much better job of biting into the dragon's scales, though he still needed the aid of the Shark Spirit to be able to punch through fully. Using them as climbing picks to scale the dragon's shoulder, he attained his goal quickly, and then lost it just as quickly as the dragon rolled over in an attempt to shake him off.

That proved to be the moment Tsavani had been waiting for, however. She flashed in at a speed almost too fast for Fenrir to catch, and while he couldn't see where she struck, it was clearly effective as evidenced by a renewed roar from the dragon. She was out again almost as quickly, and the dragon's counterattack only clawed empty air.

Not to be outdone, Myrina dashed to its head, and taking advantage of the fact that it still lay on its side, delivered a series of punishing blows into the underside of its jaw, right where the dragon's head and neck met. The attempted answering roar was turned into a sound somewhere between a gurgle and a hiss, but Myrina paid for her recklessness by taking a strike from its foreleg that threw her almost fifty feet before she even hit the ground.

Fenrir winced involuntarily as he saw the hit, but he didn't plan to give the dragon time to follow up on it. Activating Sand in the Hourglass, he swept up on the dragon's other side and buried the claws of one hand to the hilt in its eyeball. It saw him at the last moment but didn't even have time to close its eyelid, and the reflexive attempt to do so only added four cuts to the protective scale-covered membrane.

Not that it made much difference. The dragon had far bigger concerns what with the equivalent of four long daggers currently making a soup of its eye cavity, and it responded by shaking its head with such sudden ferocity that Fenrir was sent tumbling himself.

He righted himself easily enough, furrowing the flagstones beneath him with the claws of one hand to bring himself to a halt. This having given him a little room to breathe, the direwolf took stock of the battlefield.

Myrina was rising to her feet, albeit slowly and painfully. Nelith was watching her with visible concern in between volleying more fireballs to keep the dragon off balance and ensure it wouldn't attack any of them before they could recover. He couldn't spot Tsavani at first, then suddenly he caught a glimpse of her lithe form nestled deep in the dragon's fur at the crown of its back. He wasn't sure what she was planning but unlike himself, she was light enough to pass unnoticed for the moment, especially considering everything else the dragon currently had to deal with.

The dragon itself was making a terrible racket. Blood streamed from its ruined eye as well as somewhere in its flank, and while it was now on its feet again, it didn't seem willing to put its full weight on the foreleg Myrina had dropkicked earlier. The shoulder Fenrir had scaled using his claws was also bleeding, but not enough to matter. Nelith's fireballs were mostly focused at its head, and while over half of them missed due to its erratic movements, enough were connecting to keep it thoroughly disorientated.

Seizing the opportunity, Fenrir renewed his earlier scrutiny, using God's Eye to search for some method of ending the fight quickly. Reaching any of its vital organs with the tools at their disposal didn't look particularly promising; while his claws could penetrate the dragon's scaly hide, they were only about a foot long, too short for reaching the heart or doing much more than gently scratching the lungs, while with the sheer thickness of its skull, there was no way he was getting through to the brain.

-Wait, no. It technically wasn't the brain, but at the back of its head there was a small space between the skull and the first vertebra, just about wide enough to slip a blade through. It would take perfect precision, but the spinal cord should be within reach at that point, if they could get through its scales. His eyes flashed to Tsavani, still clinging tightly to the dragon's back, then to Myrina, now on her feet again.

"Myrina! Can you hit its foreleg again?"

Rather than answer with words, she leaped forward, repeating her earlier maneuver and hitting the dragon in precisely the same spot. Caught off guard, it fell heavily onto its side, almost crushing the amazon, who only avoided being turned into a pancake by rolling rapidly -and judging from her winces, painfully- to one side.

Fenrir hadn't been waiting around, either. The moment she began moving, so did he, and as the dragon fell, bringing its head within reach, he struck at the spot with all the speed and power he could bring to bear. His claws bit through the scales, sending fragments flying, but glanced off the bones beneath with a jar that rattled his entire body.

But that was fine, because now that outer layer of protection was gone. He continued off the other side, catching the dragon's remaining eye and, as he had hoped, baiting it into rolling back to its feet in an attempt to chase him. "Now, Tsavani! Get as deep in between the bones as you can!"

The catgirl needed no second urging. In an almost preternatural display of balance she ran up the length of the dragon's moving neck and struck at the spot Fenrir had laid open bare moments before. Her black steel dagger, the same one they had found in the goblin dungeon almost a month ago, went straight to the hilt, guided true by sure hands. She ripped it out sideways, leaving a deep cut all the way across the top of the dragon's neck.

Its legs went limp mid-leap and it crashed to earth, the impact enough to shake the ground beneath Fenrir's feet and sending Tsavani flying off her perch. She landed gracefully, rolling twice to absorb the force and coming up ready for anything, but there was no need. The dragon was no longer in a condition to do anything.

Its single eye, already glazing over, found Fenrir, and it rumbled, "Damn you, Planewalker..." Then the last of its breath hissed out from between its teeth, its eye, still glaring hate and rage at the direwolf, set in place, and it moved no more.

Fenrir let out a breath, turning to the rest of his party. Then his eyes widened and he leapt into motion. "Nelith!"

But it was too late. The stream of liquid-like ice was already encasing her, and a moment later the spot where she had been standing was flattened under multiple tons of flesh, scale, and bone.

The White Horror skidded to a stop, ice scattering before its bulk, but Fenrir paid the ancient dragon no mind. His attention was riveted on the point where Nelith had been standing only a moment before, where there was now only a dark red smear across the ground. Dimly he felt the effects of Berserk flood his body, but it seemed disconnected somehow, his mind remaining unaffected by the rage which had been so difficult to subdue in other times.

Despite having just watched it happen, his brain refused to frame the event in words; refused to admit that Nelith could be- no. No.

Desperately he scanned the ice around the White Horror's forelegs, willing there to be a sign of her there, however broken and battered. But there was none, nothing, only that horrible smear across the flagstones.

This could not be. How could he have failed so completely? How could he have missed the approach of the White Horror, even if he was distracted with the younger dragon? His mind raced back over the events of the past few seconds, turning back time in an attempt to-

Wait! That was it!

Fenrir did not hesitate. Reaching within himself for the second function of Sand in the Hourglass, the one he had almost forgotten existed, he seized upon it. As the world halted, then began whirling backwards, a distant part of his mind observed that, though it seemed as though eons had passed since his last glimpse of Nelith, the White Horror had not even yet had time to finish sliding to a halt.

When Elmeria opened her eyes, the far too familiar directionless glare of Apollyon's wastes greeted her. Her horse was jittering under her, panicky from the sudden change of location, and it took her a minute or so to bring him back under control. Once that was accomplished, however, she looked around.

Cracked, barren ground greeted her in every direction, with only the occasional small dried-out bush present to break the monotony. Scanning the horizon revealed no sign of the giant bookcases she sought; only the everpresent heat haze that made it impossible to tell how far her limit of vision even was.

Elmeria cursed. She hadn't considered that she might end up not even knowing which direction she ought to start looking, though to be fair, she hadn't been doing much thinking at all. Straining her eyes, she thought she might be able to make out something in the one direction, so with no better options, she turned her horse's head that way and started him off at a walk.

She would have preferred a trot at least, but he was still exhausted from the climb up the Kharvionas Pass and the hostile environment of the wastes was doing nothing to help him recover. The last thing she wanted was to tire him out completely and be left without any means of transport; after all, the last time she had been out here Fenrir had carried her most of the way to Goblintown, and even though he had been moving at a pace faster than most horses could have sustained, it had still taken over two days of straight travel. Well, that was what she had estimated judging by how thirsty she had felt, anyway.

The dark elf was in a better state this time, having both food and water in her saddlebags, but she only had a little grain for her horse and her two canteens weren't going to sustain the both of them for long out here, especially if she accidentally went in the wrong direction. So while she did her best to keep her horse on a straight course, she regularly stood up in her stirrups to carefully scan the horizon. The something she had thought she had seen had vanished, but with no better options, she kept moving in that direction.

The monotony of the journey gave her time to calm down, and to think. Once the panic of seeing Fenrir vanish into Apollyon before her eyes wore off, the foolishness of immediately following him became quickly apparent. "I could have known I wasn't going to end up in the same place as him, so why did I feel like I had to follow him instantly, as if I could have still caught up to him?" she groaned, pressing her face into her hands.

What she should have done is wait, and learn everything she could from his followers. After all, he could have learned about the secondary requirement for leaving Apollyon from some other source and have taken steps to prepare for it himself. It wasn't as if she were the only Light-race among those that served him. She had even met one of them; namely, the high elven noble Safara. -Though now she thought about it, she was fairly sure one of the people running towards her in the courtyard of Kharvionas Castle had been said high elf.

But even so. There was no gain in banishing herself instantly the way she had instead of waiting around to gain a clearer understanding of the situation, and she spent the next few minutes indulging in scathing self-recrimination.

After properly lambasting herself for losing her head, again -it wasn't lost on her that her first trip to Apollyon had come about because of precisely the same reason- she focused on the future. The first order of business was of course to find Fenrir and his party. She was never going to accomplish much of anything out here on her own.

The utter lack of landmarks out here in the wastes made that difficult, however. She had a compass along this time; after all, it was standard traveling gear, but the needle only spun uselessly. It seemed something about Apollyon interfered with its normal operation. She did her best to maintain a straight line anyway, pulling on everything she'd learned about navigation from both books and the more practical experience of Alkadabuki.

Once she did find Fenrir, however, then what? The thought that he was going to be angry with her for doing such a foolish thing crossed her mind and she couldn't help cringing right there in the saddle, as though his censorious gaze already rested upon her.

But there was really nothing for it. She determined to come clean and accept all the blame for her stupidity as soon as she saw him again; maybe he would forgive her sooner that way.

Hopefully he would punish her right away. She would gladly accept whatever punishment he chose to give; anything that hastened her path back to his good graces was worth whatever dignity, pride, or comfort she had to sacrifice. Even just the knowledge that he was going to be unhappy with her made a very unpleasant sensation settle in the pit of her stomach, and she knew that actually seeing him frown his disapproval at her was going to completely crush her.

Since when had she cared so much about his opinion? But of course she knew the answer to that question very well. It had been when he had placed his Mark on her lower stomach. That was when she had become his, when the best thing possible had become making him happy with her, and the worst thing possible had become displeasing him.

It only took a brief moment for Sand in the Hourglass to do its work, reversing the entire world around him to a point a little before Tsavani had paused to examine the Watcher encased in ice. The first thing Fenrir did was sweep Nelith into his arms; despite knowing she was completely fine at this point, he still needed to feel the confirmation of her lithe body held close to his, thrumming with precious life.

"...Uh, Chief? Are you okay?" Nelith asked, perhaps sensing some of his lingering panic. "You know I'd never turn down one of your hugs, but is this really the best time?" Her tone was playful, but the expression on her face was one of concern, and the hand she brought up to caress his cheek was tender rather than teasing.

Rather than waste time answering, Fenrir took stock of the situation. They had just come in sight of where the dragon on the rooftop crouched, and judging from the way its whole body had just tensed, it had seen them.

"This way, follow me," he ordered, moving towards a nearby alley. Myrina and Tsavani exchanged confused glances, but followed without fuss. Fenrir led them some distance into the maze of alleys, the buildings on either side of them looming over a hundred feet above their heads and making the space seem narrower than it really was. All the while he kept his ears up, listening for any sign that the dragon might be following them, and more importantly, listening for any hint which might indicate the White Horror's approach. His nose was also kept busy testing the air, but that was more because of instinct than because he actually expected to smell the ancient dragon before it was upon them.

No odd sounds or scents were to be detected, though, and after reaching a little secluded nook Fenrir finally stopped. Nelith wriggled a little in his arms, and he realized he was holding her tightly enough that it had to be uncomfortable for her. The direwolf loosened his grip, but did not put her down.

"What's going on, Chief? What happened?" The playfulness was now entirely banished from the succubus' voice.

Fenrir took a deep breath, trying to bring himself under control. "I saw you die, Nelith," he told her, quietly.

Her worried look deepened, and Myrina and Tsavani exchanged another glance before returning their attention to Fenrir.

"Among my abilities is one which allows me to rewind time by five minutes once a month. About five minutes ago I used it for the first time."

"...What happened?" Nelith asked again, this time much quieter.

"Just a little further down that street we were confronted by a young adult dragon. We were able to kill it by working together, but the White Horror used the distraction it provided to set up a surprise attack that killed you instantly."

Despite his best efforts, his grip tightened slightly as he remembered it, prompting Nelith to raise her hand to his cheek again. "Hey, hey. I'm okay. I'm right here, alright? Whole and un-killed, just the way you like me." She smirked a bit as she said the last sentence, and Fenrir couldn't help but smile in return.

"Yes, so you are." There was silence for a moment, then Fenrir continued speaking. "I think we'd better call off this trip for now. With the White Horror lurking about, I don't think much of our chances of making it across the fifty plus miles between here and Goblintown. I suppose I should have expected he'd be out here, considering everything we stole from him last time, but somehow I didn't. Maybe because he's so much bigger than the portal we took to reach his realm."

"You think he got here some other way?" Myrina asked.

"Probably. Or maybe he just changed his shape temporarily to be able to fit; ancient dragons are known to have fleshcrafting abilities. But it wouldn't surprise me in the slightest to learn there are multiple different ways to access each of the different realms."

Still holding Nelith, Fenrir began threading his way up through the alleys, staying away from open spaces as much as possible on their way back to the summit. He hadn't minded the thought of confronting the ancient dragon when accompanying the raiding party of goblins even despite the obvious risks, but now with three of his girls to protect, he was loath to take even the slightest chance of being spotted.

Thus, while the journey down from the cathedral at the summit had only taken about an hour, the return took well over twice that. At length they reached the courtyard at the top, however, and Fenrir wasted no time in crossing it with the rest of his party in tow and laying one hand on the massive doors of the cathedral. But one second turned into five, then ten, then twenty, and the doors did not move.

Well, this chapter was a doozy, wasn't it? I've gone and killed one of my darlings, even if I did immediately bring her back to life. But that's Fenrir's only get out of jail free card now expended, so he'd better be doubly careful from now on. Meanwhile, Elmeria's out in the wastes somewhere bitterly regretting her hastiness, the while she tries to figure out which direction will lead her where she wants to go.
I hope I was able to bring Fenrir's emotions as he witnessed the event to life properly. It's difficult to express what goes through your mind at a moment like that, let alone put it down in prose in a way that brings the same emotions to life in those that read it.
In other news, the polls I set up seemed to indicate that while roughly half of those who voted would be interested in seeing a character Q&A, only a few of them actually had questions they'd like to ask, so we'll shelve the idea for the moment. Perhaps we'll come back to it at some later date.
The next few chapters promise to be quite exciting, but until then,
Enjoy!