Story (c) 2000 by Hikaru Katayamma/Keith Dickinson. All rights reserved. The character Sheila Vixen (c) Eric W Schwartz. Throckmorton P Ruddygore, Poqua, Lakash (c) Jack L Chalker. All other characters are (c) Hikaru Katayamma.  This story contains adult situations and language. By reading it the viewer agrees not to hold this or any other person responsible for any content they may find objectionable. If you don't like it, don't read it.

A groan escaped her muzzle as she sat up and began checking herself over to verify that she wasn't harmed. A quick inventory by her paws verified that she wasn't injured, although she was a bit heavier than she had remembered. "You pig!" she complained as she examined her expanded waist. "How the hell did you manage to gain all this weight?" Not receiving an answer, Sheila turned and hit the prone body lying next to her. Failing to get a reaction, she grabbed the shoulder and shook. "Arden!"

Still not getting a reaction, Sheila became more agitated. "Damn it, Arden," she complained as she grabbed the shoulder and heaved, rolling the body over. "NO!" she screamed as she got a good look at the mummified corpse. The body that she had once inhabited was now reduced to skin and bones.

Screaming in denial, Sheila backed away from the body, unable to accept what she was seeing. Her eyes locked on the amulet that hung around the neck as it flashed in the sunlight, its smiling face mocking her horror.

"NO!" Sheila bolted upright in bed. Her pulse raced, echoing the pounding of her heart as she gasped for breath. The first rays of dawn were filtering through the slatted shutters that covered the window.

"Hey, baby. Are you ok?" the man lying next to her in the bed sat up and put his hand on her shoulder. He was a thin man with a robust, weathered look to his skin. His bald head was covered with mystical tattoos that extended down his back and along his exposed arms, creating a tapestry of magical glyphs that would occasionally glow or sparkle in the dim light as he moved.

"Yah," Sheila replied nodding in the morning light, "It was just a dream."

He gave her shoulder a little squeeze. "Was it the same one?" he gently asked.

Sheila nodded in reply, still upset at the nightmare that had haunted her.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him and holding her tight. "You never have to worry, my love. I'll guard you. I swear my life on it."

"No!" Sheila said harshly as she forced herself away from him and stood. "Don't say that, Ross," she pleaded across the dust-filled shaft of light that leaking through the crack in the shutters. "Please don't say that."

He threw the covers back, revealing his lower torso and legs that ended at the knees. With a gesture the tattoos began to glow with an eerie, blue light as he floated up from the bed to hover before her. "It's not for us to choose," he replied in a calming tone. "The fates brought us together for a reason. The second I saw you I fell in love. That's why I saved you from that rogue mage."

Sheila turned and leaned heavily against the wall next to the shuttered window. In a vain attempt to escape her situation, she reached a free hand up to ratchet the slats open and peer out at the sunrise. "I... I... just can't right now, Ross," Sheila stuttered out as a tear soaked into the fur under her eye. "I can't give up on Arden. I know he'll find a way back to me." She turned and looked at Ross as he floated near her. "He's my only hope of going home."

Ross maneuvered himself back over to the bed and settled down on the side. From the table by the headboard, he took out a bandage and began to wind it about the lower portion of one leg. "I know, Sheila, but it's been almost three months since I first saw you. How long are you going to keep hoping against all odds that he's going to turn up?" With a bit of a flourish he finished wrapping the cloth around where his lower leg and foot would have been, creating the illusion of a limb. He flexed the knee, ankle and foot, satisfied with the result, he then began working on the other leg. "We've talked to every stranger passing through town, and nobody knows anything about this Arden of yours. Even our inquiry to Castle Terindell didn't turn up anything. They were as clueless as we were concerning his whereabouts. What was it Ruddygore said--- I have no idea who this Arden your are searching for is, nor any clue as to his whereabouts."

His second bandage now complete, Ross stood and walked up behind Sheila, wrapping his arms around her waist and placing his chin on her shoulder. "It's time to stop looking back and start looking forward, Sheila," he suggested with an encouraging tone in his voice. "You've got a whole new life ahead of you and a child coming to boot. Why not make a new start of it with me and settle down here?"

Sheila turned and looked deep into Ross' eyes for a moment before wrapping her arms around him and kissing him deeply. Sheila then laid her muzzle on his shoulder and murmured in his ear, "Thank you. You've been a good friend. You've even made me forget about my troubles once in a while and I'll always be in your debt for that." She pushed herself away from his embrace and began to get dressed. "But I won't abandon my search for Arden. I can't. I know he would never give up on me."

Ross hung his head and let out a sigh. "All right," he finally acknowledged, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I can wait for as long as it takes you to find him, if he's really out there. I'll be right beside you in your search."

Sheila stopped lacing up the armor, looked up at him and smiled as she gave his hand a squeeze.

"So," he sighed as he retrieved some clothes from his pack, "what's on our agenda for today?"

Sheila finished lacing the armor up and began to arrange the Japanese swords in the waistband. "I heard a group of wagons come into town late last night. From the sound of the horses I think they stopped at the Red Gargoyle, down at the other end of town."

Ross reached over and tickled one of Sheila's ears, causing it to twitch. "I knew those were good for something other than tickling," he commented, laughing.

Sheila spun around and pounced on Ross, driving him backwards and down onto the bed. He let out a small shriek as Sheila softly growled and sank her teeth into his ear.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, putting a hand to his injured ear. "You bit me!"

She sat on top of him and smiled down, mocking him. "Quit whining. I didn't even break the skin."

"That's not what I'm complaining about," he said, returning the smile. "My complaint is that you stopped." Ross reached up and grabbed Sheila by the shoulders, pulling her down to him.

She took his hands and pinned them to the bed, preventing him from doing anything further. "No." It wasn't a comment or a suggestion; it was a statement of fact. "Now is not the time for that." Sheila climbed off the bed and double-checked her outfit to ensure that everything was in order. "I want to go and talk to that new group that came into town last night. Maybe I can get a lead on Arden."

Ross flopped his head back on the bed and sighed heavily before sitting up. "Outside of the council itself, you are the most stubborn person I think I've ever met."

Sheila picked up a small backpack, saddlebag and a bedroll from the corner. "That's probably why you find me so intriguing," she said with a smile. "I'm not one of these females that will just melt into your arms every time you smile at me." Laughing, Sheila opened the door and turned back to Ross. "I'm going to go settle our bill and get the horses ready. I'll meet you in the stables."

"Right," he replied, pulling a shirt on. "I'll be right down."

After he got dressed, Ross walked around the room and collected his effects, piling them on the bed. After he repacked his backpack he pulled out what appeared to be a mirror. Gazing into it he saw Sheila in the stables, cinching up the straps on her horse's saddle. He gestured at the image, which caused it to ripple and change. Moments later he saw the face of an elderly, fair skinned man who bore tattoos similar to his own.

"What do you have to report, Ross?" the old man demanded in a gruff voice.

"She still insists on searching for Arden, Father. However, she has yet to obtain any leads as to his whereabouts."

The old man nodded. "Good. Keep me informed." The image in the mirror glowed for a second before the image vanished, leaving only Ross' reflection.

Ross slipped the mirror back into his pack, then picked up the rest of his belongings and headed down to the stables.

Sheila approached the table at the inn where a matronly woman sat examining some paperwork and drinking a mug of coffee. As she neared the table, a tall, thin elf took up station behind the woman. He was almost six feet tall, with an elongated look to him that made Sheila think of a cartoon she once saw of a wolf that had been stretched out on a rack. His ears were long, thin and sharply pointed, framing his face. The eyes were similar to Arden's eyes, with black pupils floating on a see of red where the whites should have been. This, combined with the yellowish tint of his skin and the talon-like claws at the end of each finger, made him the most unusual person Sheila had seen to date.

The woman looked up as Sheila took up a casual stance across from her. "Can I help you with something?" the woman inquired politely.

Sheila gave her a small smile that didn't show too many teeth. "If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you a few questions about your recent trip."

Her look suddenly guarded, the woman asked, "Just what kind of information are you looking for?"

"I was recently separated from my traveling companion," Sheila explained. "I'm trying to locate him. I'm hoping you may have heard something that could lead me to him."

The woman's guarded expression softened somewhat as she waved for Sheila to a chair. "My name is Isabella. I certainly wish you good luck in locating your missing friend, but I'm not too sure what I can do to help. I have neither seen nor heard of anyone of your species before. Believe me, if your friend had been anywhere along my route, I would have heard about it."

Sheila nodded after making herself comfortable in the chair. "I understand that; however my friend was human," she commented lightly, "and I'm sure you can understand how that makes my search all the more difficult."

Isabella's brow furrowed at Sheila's statement. "He was human?"

Sheila gave a sheepish smile. "It's a long story, but we use magic to travel. Each time we have done so, he has changed shape. That's why I'm not at all sure what he could look like at this time."

Isabella nodded and started to speak, then her expression hardened again. The elf guarding Isabella scowled at something behind the vixen. Turning, Sheila saw Ross approaching.

"Can I get you anything, dear?" he inquired cheerfully as he put his hands on her shoulders.

Sheila smiled up at him. "Sure. I'd really like some of that wine we had last night at dinner. Chilled if at all possible."

Ross laughed. "I'll see if there's any left. If so, I'll be sure not to damage it with the spell." He nodded to Isabella and her guard before moving off to speak with the innkeeper.

"You travel with a painted mage?" Isabella challenged, still scowling in Ross' direction.

Confused by their reaction Sheila glanced at Ross before answering, "Yes. Why?"

Isabella looked up at the elf. "Privacy," she commanded.

He made a few gestures in the air and then nodded back at his patron.

"Good. Now we can talk," Isabella stated. "What do you know of the Painted Mages?"

Sheila shrugged. "Nothing, really. Why?"

The woman squinted at Sheila for a second before continuing. "How did you meet him?"

Still confused, Sheila was becoming worried by the interrogation. "He saved my life. I was being attacked by a mage on the road and he rescued me. Why?"

"He killed the mage, didn't he?" Isabella demanded, ignoring Sheila's question.

Sheila shook her head for a second. "Yes! But---what does that have to do with him being a painted mage?"

Isabella glanced over at Ross to ensure that he was occupied with the innkeeper. "Listen to me well, girl, for your life depends on this. The painted mages do nothing without good reason, and their reasons are never obvious. You can't even count on greed, as they have little use for money and even less use for morals, scruples or a conscience."

Sheila was dumbfounded by what she was hearing. This was a total contradiction to what she had come to expect from Ross. The mage was so kind, so gentle. He was always worried about her welfare, and he made sure that she got anything she needed or wanted. What possible motivation could he have other than love? "I find your words hard to believe," Sheila finally stated.

Isabella glanced again to ensure Ross was still busy. "Be that as it may, girl, you must trust no one. Everyone in Husaquahr has his or her own agendas. Never assume that someone is doing something simply because it is in your best interest."

Sheila scowled at the old woman. "What about you? Why should I take your word for this? Why should I trust you?"

Isabella laughed. "Absolutely no reason other than the fact that it's good advice," she said as she lowered her voice again. "But I would also advise you to ask others about the Painted Mages. They will tell you the same thing I have." She glanced over at Ross as he began casting a spell on the drinks. "Do not assume that, just because he is elsewhere, you are safe. Painted Mages carry a magic object to scry with, usually a mirror or a crystal ball. Don't assume that just because he's elsewhere you can not be watched."

Now Sheila was truly concerned. She had remembered seeing Ross looking into a mirror once while they were camped in the wild. At the time she didn't think anything of it, but now it made sense. Why would someone carry a mirror when they never needed to shave? Still, he had never given her any reason to doubt his good will.

The tall elf gave his mistress' shoulder a squeeze as Ross started over.

Isabella smiled at Sheila. "Now tell me about this friend of yours and maybe we can help you find him."

Sheila and Ross left the inn, untied their horses and climbed into the saddles.

"Where to now?" Ross asked.

"To the provisioner," Sheila replied. Wheeling her horse around, Sheila headed down the street towards the other edge of town with Ross bringing up the rear.

"Are we leaving town already?" he inquired and received a nod. "To where? She didn't have anything that we could use as a lead on your friend."

Sheila nodded and replied sternly, "I know. We're heading to Castle Terindell."

"Terindell?" Ross cried out. "Why go there? They already told us that they had never heard of your friend."

She looked at the mage for a second before turning back to the street. "Arden was positive that Ruddygore would help him with his quest. If I confront him, make a personal appeal and tell him about Arden's quest, then maybe he'll help me."

"You want to just ride up to the gates of Castle Terindell and demand an audience with Throckmorton P. Ruddygore, a member of the Council?" Ross' tone clearly showed his disdain at the vixen's plan.

Sheila nodded. "That's right."

The Painted Mage flung his hands towards the heaves as he looked to the sky for some sign. "By the gods!" he exclaimed. "Have it your way. We'll head for Terindell."

They continued their ride towards the provisioner's store in relative silence. Ross's horse slowly fell behind Sheila's as they rode. Every once in a while the mage uttered a small curse and shook his head while shooting a harsh glance at Sheila's back.

Father was not going to be happy.