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.

Sheila

Sheila heaved the saddlebags over the back of her horse and had begun to tie them to the saddle when Drix flittered up next to her.

"Sheila," she said in her high-pitched voice, "Pandora's asking for you."

The vixen finished off the knot she was tying and then nodded to the pixie. "OK. I'll be right there," she replied as she started off towards the garishly decorated wagon.

Arriving at the back, she knocked on the door. Jasper's muffled voice called out to her, inviting her in. Sheila opened the door and climbed in, making sure to close the door behind her. Inside, she found that Lady Pandora was still lying on the bed, Jasper sitting beside her with a worried look on his face.

After a few moments, Jasper looked over at Sheila and stood. "Please, come and sit," he said, indicating the place on the bed that he had vacated.

Sheila sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at the woman. Lady Pandora seemed much older than she had before.

"Amanda," Jasper said quietly. "Sheila's here."

The old woman cracked open her eyes and looked around, focusing on Sheila. "There you are," she stated in a weak voice. "You weren't thinking of running off without giving old Pandora a chance to discuss your reading, were you?"

Sheila glanced up at Jasper's worried look, then turned back to the woman. "I didn't want to disturb your rest."

"Rest will come soon enough," the old woman said with a nod. "Soon enough I will have all the rest I shall ever need."

Jasper knelt by the bed, taking the woman's hand in his. "Don't talk like that, Amanda." Sheila could hear the pleading tone in his voice.

"Be still, my husband," Pandora said, giving his hand a little squeeze. "My magic has given me life far longer than any human should be allowed. Now that the time has come, I'm not going to fight it."

"But what will I do without you?" Jasper leaned closer. "You don't have to die."

Pandora smiled at her husband. "You'll do the same thing you did in the centuries before you met me. You'll go on with your troop, exploring the lands and meeting new people. Now hush while I talk to Sheila. We must finish our business."

Jasper gave Sheila a pained look, then rose and left the wagon, closing the door gently.

"You'll have to forgive my husband," the woman said, taking Sheila's paw into her hand. "I have lasted far longer than any mortal has any right to, and he doesn't understand why I should die when my life could be extended yet again."

"I'm not sure I understand what you're saying," Sheila said, glancing at the door that Jasper went through before turning back. "Just how old is he?"

"He is ancient and yet a child at the same time," Pandora responded. "Jasper was brought to this world as a refugee from Earth Prime well over a thousand years ago." She paused and stared off into the distance for a moment, lost in the memories. "I met him almost two hundred years ago while I was on my way to be trained in the mystical arts." Again she smiled, her features softening. "Even then he lead a carnival troop through the lands." Her gaze returned to Sheila. "We met not unlike the way you met us last night. It was a chance encounter that changed my life." Pandora breathed deeply and let out a long, wistful sigh. "After I completed my training, I traveled the lands until I again found him. We've been together ever since."

"Wow. Two hundred years, " Sheila whispered, awestruck. "That's a long time to be with just one person." The concept was something that Sheila was having trouble wrapping her mind around.

Pandora's eyes narrowed as she watched the vixen. "That scares you, doesn't it?"

"Huh?" Sheila grunted. "What are you talking about?"

"Giving yourself to just one man," the woman commented. "The idea scares you, doesn't it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sheila replied, trying to dismiss the accusation.

"You search for the one you call your mate, yet I can see that the idea of being bound to only one man bothers you." Pandora looked hard and deep into Sheila's eyes, trapping the vixen in her gaze. "Yes, I see it. Why do you seek this man? Don't you love him?"

Sheila shuddered. "I'm not sure any more," she confessed. "I think I loved him once, but things have changed so fast. I'm not sure what I feel any more." She looked down at the fancy cured silk outfit that she wore and felt the amulet beneath the fabric. "All I am sure about is that the only way I'll ever get home is to find him."

"I see the wounds on your soul, child," the woman said quietly. "You have lost much in your travels and have lead a difficult life. Yet the future I saw for you has not been written in stone. There is hope for you yet."

"The future," Sheila said distractedly before looking back at Pandora. "And just what kind of future do I have? All you talked about was Armageddon."

"I only saw the potential for Armageddon," Pandora replied. "You are a pawn who has now been elevated to a queen in the game of the gods. If you are successful in completing the task set out for you, you will return home." The old woman closed her eyes as she recalled the visions she had seen. "I have seen you and your child living happily in your old world. You will once again be amongst friends who will take good care of you."

"And Arden?" Sheila asked.

Pandora opened her eye. "Uncertain is his fate. He sits at the apex of events. I have seen his death many times over, as well as his triumphs, yet I am unable to see clearly which path he will take."

Sheila sat for a moment, staring at nothing in particular as she thought about what Pandora had said. "After you passed out," she said, looking back at the old woman, "I carried you to your bed and then sat down in your chair." As she paused, Pandora nodded, urging her on. "I looked back at the board and saw one remaining stone in the center of the case. It…did something to me. I saw something… A vision… I'm not sure what it was."

"That was the keystone," Pandora said with a nod. "It is always the last stone to fade."

"Is it…will it…the vision, come true?" Sheila asked shakily.

By reflex, Pandora almost gave an honest answer. Instead she settled for leaving Sheila some hope. "Only time will tell," Pandora said as she closed her eyes. "Only time will tell…"

Ross reigned in his horse to pace Sheila's mount. "Come on, Sheila. I can see that it's bothering you. I know something about these spells and what they can show you." He watched for any reaction as they continued to ride. Seeing that she wasn't going to say anything, Ross reached out and grabbed the rein up near the muzzle of Sheila's horse and pulled it to a stop, turning his mount to face her. "Damn it, Sheila!" he complained. "Why are you acting like this?"

Sheila looked up at him with narrowed eyes. "Why are you traveling with me?"

"What?" Ross blinked at the question. "Why do you think I'm here?" he challenged, the tone of his voice carefully neutral.

"I don't know," Sheila replied, cocking her head to one side. "Everyone says that I shouldn't trust you, that you only care about power and are just using me for something." She urged her horse forward a few steps so that she sat right next to Ross. "Is that true?"

The mage pursed his lips for a second as he considered her question. "I'm not using you," he replied. "Sure, I'm curious about you. You're a unique creature, something that I've never encountered before, and that intrigues me." He gave a small shrug and an offhand nod. "And I will admit that I'm interested in the magic you possess. It's like nothing I've ever seen."

Sheila gritted her teeth and looked away for a moment to compose herself. "And all that talk about loving me?" she asked through clinched fangs.

"Umm.." Ross bit his lip for a second. "Ok. I'll admit, I didn't really mean that," he replied, hurrying on to explain, "but I meant everything else. I don't want to loose you, Sheila."

Sheila looked at Ross for moment before she pulled the reins from his hands. "You never had me," she stated as she spurred her horse onwards.

Ross let out a sigh and turned to follow. He had a job to do. It would have been nice if she had cooperated, but that wasn't a requirement. It was time to lose the kid gloves and get down to business. Tonight he'd check in and verify his plans. The secret of that armor would be his.

Ruddygore

Ruddygore looked up at a knock at the door. "Enter," he called out.

The door opened, slightly allowing a bruised and battered Poquah to enter. "It's here." His voice, normally cold and impartial almost dripped with loathing.

Ruddygore nodded. "Show her in, please."

The tall elf opened the door and nodded to the person outside. A tall female entered, robed in a black, pleated leather cloak that extended down almost to her feet. Her hair and skin were jet black, broken only by the red glow of her eyes. Her ears, like Poquah's, were tall, pointed and angled backwards along the side of her head. A brief smile revealed the same sharp, pointed teeth common amongst the Imir, except for the canines, which were more than twice the normal length.

"Thanks, handsome," she said as she passed by the sorcerer's aide. The cape fluttered open to reveal a thin female body covered with a one-piece outfit which was covered with pockets. She reached out a clawed hand and cupped the male Imir's face. "When are you going to quit acting like an iceberg and have some fun with me?" she purred with an impish smile.

"When hell freezes over," Poquah snarled and left the room, closing the door behind him.

The female laughed and turned back to the large magician, who had watched the entire exchange with a small scowl. "What?" she asked innocently as she glided over to the chair across from him and sat.

"Hecate," he said with a sigh of exasperation, "why must you insist on such displays when you know good and well that he despises you?" Ruddygore pulled a large cigar from his humidor, stuck it in his mouth and sucked on it as the end burst into flames.

"Come on, Ruddy," she whined. "He needs a little loosening up. A good romp in the hay is just the way to do it, too. Lord knows the boy needs it." The smile faded as a sour look came over her face. "Unless…. No! Don't tell me he's one of those is he?"

"Eh?" the sorcerer grunted, taken back by her question. "No, I doubt it. He simply does not approve of your existence."

"Hah! I guess he'll just have to live with it since I don't plan on kicking off any time soon," she replied, turning serious. "Now that the entertainment is over, what can I do for you?"

Ruddygore leaned back and steepled his fingers. "I need you to locate someone for me."

Hecate nodded. "No problem. It's what I do best." She reached out and flipped open the humidor, and removed a cigar before closing it. A brief smile visited her face as she sniffed the tobacco, though the smile's source may have been at the annoyed look the sorcerer had given her. She leaned back as Ruddygore had and stoked the cigar. "You have samples for me?"

"No," Ruddygore responded flatly.

"Whoa there, Junior," she said waving the cigar in front of her. "I'm a blood tracker, not a miracle worker. You know I can't find anyone without a sample."

"Unless?" the sorcerer asked.

Her eyebrows arched for a second at the question before slamming down into a serious scowl. "No! I'm not a demon hunter! I won't hunt down supernatural creatures!" She stabbed out the cigar in the ashtray and stood to leave.

"This isn't a supernatural creature," Ruddygore said hastily. "I will admit that she's from a world other than Earth Prime, but she's not supernatural." He paused and watched as the female sat back down. "She came here through a dimensional gateway. That alone will mark her in such a way that someone with your unique talents should be able to track her."

She eyed Ruddygore suspiciously. "What's the catch?"

The sorcerer sighed as he sat up straight. "She's wearing some form of physical material interwoven with magic. It's masking all traces of her. I've been unable to locate any hint of her existence, even though I know for a fact she's in our realm now. My hope is that you will be able to sense her when you get closer to her."

Hecate frowned as she considered the job. "My price has just doubled."

Ruddygore nodded. "Agreed. Find her within the month and I'll triple it," he replied, relieved that she had taken the job. "Last word I had about her indicated that she would be coming up from the southwest. I suggest that you try High Pothique, and head south from there." He summoned up an image of Sheila, similar to the one that Lakash had shown him. "This is who you're looking for. Her name is Sheila Vixen. If you locate her, make sure you let her know that you're working for me. I have it on good authority that she should be trying to make her way here, but I don't know what kind of resources or resistance she may run into."

"All right," Hecate replied standing. "What's so important about this critter?" she asked as she opened the door to the terrace and stepped out into the fresh air.

Ruddygore stood and followed her out, then stood leaning on the stone railing. "She has suddenly become a very critical piece in a game between heaven and hell that I just recently become aware of." He reached out and took hold of her arm. "This is important, Hecate. Please don't betray me again."

Hecate yanked her arm away from his grasp. "You know how I feel about the forces of hell," she snarled. The leather cape she wore suddenly billowed out above and behind her to reveal that it was, in fact, a large pair of demonic wings that had covered a sinuous, barbed tail. "I may not hunt daemons, but I'll never knowingly aid the forces of hell, either!" With that she launched off the stone terrace railing and glided out over the River of the Dancing Gods, occasionally flapping to gain altitude.

"That's what I'm counting on," Ruddygore said quietly to himself as he watched the hell-spawned Imir take flight.

Ross

Ross sat by the fire, reading a tome from his pack. On the other side, Sheila lay asleep. It had been a restless night for her. Every time he thought that she had finally fallen asleep, she had tossed and turned. It had been some time since her last movement, and the slow even rhythm of her breathing told him that she had finally slipped off to sleep.

He quietly stood and made his way over to the packhorse that carried his belongings. With exaggerated care he undid the protection spell that kept anyone from snooping in his possessions. From deep within a bag he withdrew a leather-bound object.

As he removed the mirror from its case, a sideways glance ensured that Sheila was still sound asleep. Taking the device in both hands he concentrated on activating it. A glow surrounded the mirror as the face took shape in its center.

"It's about time," the stern face in the mirror complained. "What in Probost's name is going on?"

Ross winced internally. "There's been a bit of a problem," he replied. "The locals have been warning her about our sect, and she's lost confidence in my sincerity."

"So what's the problem?" the face asked. "Just use a compulsion, but for Probost's sake be subtle."

This time Ross's wince was visible. "That's part of the problem," he said sheepishly. "I tried to hit her with a low-end compulsion. That damned armor reacted and blocked the spell."

A shocked face looked back out from the mirror. "What? I thought you said it couldn't block magic!"

Ross nodded. "I know. That adept I paid to ambush her had no problem tying her up with a force spell," he answered. "I can only presume that the armor's ability to block magic is limited."

The face in the mirror frowned in thought. "All right, then. Just stay with her. If she decides to try to lose you, let her think she's succeeded. Just make sure you don't lose track of her."

Ross nodded "No problem. She's wearing an earring that I have keyed to a tracker. There's no way she can lose me." Ross then released the spell before replacing the mirror in his pack. A few seconds to secure the flap both physically and magically, and he was done. He then returned to his place by the fire and picked up his book. Sheila hadn't moved the entire time. Satisfied, he went back to reading.

In her bedroll, Sheila gritted her teeth and closed her slitted eyes. If that was the way they wanted to play, then she could play their game, too.