Story (c) 2000-2004 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. Jack (c) David Hopkins.Mary the Mouse © Mary Minch. 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.

From the angle of the sun, Hecate could tell that it was just after noon. The gentle, rhythmic slapping of the water against the riverboat's hull combined with the warm breeze to create a relaxing environment. Most of the off-duty crew could be seen stretched out here and there along the decking as they soaked up the sun. Sheila, on the other hand, sat on a small crate by the railing, her cloak clutched around her. Hecate made her way over to the vixen, being careful not to spill the contents of a bowl.

"Hey," the ebony female said, putting a hand on the pregnant vixen's shoulder. "I brought some food for you. It's not the greatest thing in the world, but it's hot and filling."

"I'm not hungry," came the muttered reply as Sheila turned her hooded body away.

"Come on. You've got to eat something." She maneuvered the bowl around so that it was again in front of the vixen.

Sheila batted the bowl away with her hand and turned to once again put her back to the ebony woman. "I said no!"

"Fine!" Hecate replied, setting the bowl none too gently on the top of a near by crate. "Be that way." Turning, she walked over to where Rathsmon sat and stood, her arms crossed. "What the hell's gotten into her?"

"Mister Personality," the necromancer griped, nodding towards the bow of the boat where Arden stood. "After he brought you aboard, he got all surly and copped an attitude with me then stomped off up front in a huff with the bitch waddling afterwards. A few minutes later I hear him snarl something nasty at her and next thing you know, she's sitting on a crate, bawling her eyes out. They both have been like that ever since."

The Imir sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she winced at some unseen pain. "Why do I have to get all the shit jobs?" She ran her hand through her hair then shook her head to clear it while taking a deep breath. "Ruddygore isn't paying me enough for this crap." Turning, she made her way towards the front of the boats where Arden stood. "All right, what is your malfunction, mister?"

The large man turned and gave her a confused look. "Huh?"

Her hands on her hips, the ebony female stood as if talking to a small child. "You heard me, buster. What is your problem?"

"I have no clue what you're babbling about," he replied, turning away from her.

"I'm talking about your girlfriend, asshole!" Reaching up, she grabbed Arden by the ear and dragged his head around as she pointed towards the vixen. "She refuses to eat, sleep or drink anything since last night. Now what the hell did you say to her?"

"I told her that I'm fine, OK?" Twisting his head, he pulled his ear from her grasp. "It's only two days to the castle. She'll survive. If you're that worried about her, I'm sure you'll find a way to get her to eat."

Hecate's jaw dropped in surprise at his statement. "Only two days?" she echoed in disbelief. "Do you hear yourself?" Her disbelief quickly changed to anger as he just stared at her without any reaction. "Fine. If you don't give a damn then I'll go cast a spell on the bitch to ma---GAK!"

"Don't you ever refer to her as a bitch," Arden commanded, his hand wrapped around the Imir's throat, choking her for a moment before letting go.

"Right," Hecate croaked out, rubbing her throat. "Kind of hot and cold about her aren't you? One minute you don't care if she starves, and the other you're threatening me for referring to her as a bitch. What the hell is it with you?"

"It's none of your business."

"Well I'm making it my business. I have a bad habit of doing that, you know, sticking my nose in where it's not wanted, and this is a grade-A, prime example of a situation where my nose just won't stay out." She crossed her arms and glowered at the man. "So what's the problem? You suddenly decide that you don't love her any more? Or maybe it's some kind of side effect from that succubus that you didn't account for, is that it?"

Arden frowned and turned away. "I told you, it's none of your business. Why can't you leave it alone?"

"No. I can't. After all the time I've heard you swear up and down that you'd never do anything to hurt her, here you go and do something that's got her practically cowering in a corner." The frustrated woman let out a snarl as she glanced back at Sheila. "What is it with you? Are you trying to make her hate you or something?" She was surprised when Arden's head snapped around to look at her for a moment before he turned away. "Holy shit. That's it. You're trying to make her hate you." Turning, Hecate looked back at Sheila again and shook her head. "Why in God's name would you do something like that?"

For a long time, Arden just looked over the railing at the reflection of the sun in the water without speaking. "It's better for her this way," He replied quietly. "Just leave it alone, will you?"

"Better for her?" She shook her head at the thought. "How the hell can making her hate you be better?"

"You don't understand," he replied, leaning heavily against the railing, his head hung low. "I've seen the possible futures and there's no way I can complete my mission and go back with her." He lifted his head and looked at her with hollow, black-on-black eyes that echoed the haunted tone in his voice. "There's no other way. She has to want to return without me."

Her brow furrowed with confused, she cocked her head at the big man. "You've seen the future? What are you talking about?"

"Back when I was fighting those sorcerers, I needed to tap into the power of the dragon, but Lakash had put a block on how much I could tap." He paused for a breath before continuing. "I---I don't know. I went berserk. I attacked the connection between the dragon and me, trying to open it up so that I could draw deeper from its power. I succeeded beyond my wildest hopes." A visible shudder ran down his frame. "I completely destroyed the block. All that power," he said, trembling at the memory, "washed over me. I almost lost myself in it." Pausing, he turned to face Hecate, his arms crossed as he hugged himself. "That's when I saw it---Time's Eye. I saw it, I reached for it…and I looked into it."

"Jesus Christ on a crutch," Hecate replied with an awed whisper. "You looked into the Eye…and survived?"

"It was the dragon. It protected me." He glanced away as he continued to talk. 'That's when I saw it. The end of my quest. All the possible paths that I could take to reach my goal, and all the possible outcomes." A shuddered sob forced its way free. "There's no way for me to complete my mission without sacrificing myself for the goal."

This was the last thing that she had expected to hear. "No shit?"

Arden's face returned to the impassive mask it had been moments earlier as he straightened up, his arms by his side. "No shit. That was the plan from the beginning." He looked at the woman, a frown on his face. "In order to renew Nanuk, I have to give up who and what I am, and take on the roll of Nanuk. That's the only way."

Hecate shook her head as she assimilated this new information. "What if you don't do it?" She asked, trying for some alternative. "What if you tell this Nanuk to kiss off and find some other patsy?"

"Then Lakash wins," he replied in a low, angry voice. "The balance between the totems will be broken. The other totems will band together to try and destroy Lakash, to try and force him to give up Nanuk's powers. Alliances will be made with the forces of hell to accomplish this goal, and in the end Armageddon will be triggered. All because I refused to sacrifice myself."

"Wow. That's fucked." Reaching out with one hand, Hecate squeezed his arm. "Look, just tell her. She's a grown-up girl. She can handle the truth." Again she shook her head, "Don't you think she deserves the truth?"

"I---I can't." He shook his head and leaned against the railing again. "I swore to her that I'd be there for her. I'd go back with her. We'd raise some kids, spoil our grandkids rotten and grow old together. How am I supposed to tell her all that was a lie?"

"I don't know," the Imir replied frankly, giving his arm another squeeze. "But you do need to tell her. She deserves better than this. You both do."

Rathsmon sat with his legs dangling over the edge of the boat so that his toes could skim the top of the water. His back rested against a small pile of sacks containing grains and barley, which had been intended for a brewery up north. The feel of the sun against his skin warmed his chilled body as he relaxed.

"Rathsmon," came a tiny voice from next to the dead man. As he looked over, he saw a rat with glowing red eyes. "Hello, Rathsmon. Do you know who this is?"

Squinting at the rat, the necromancer shifted his sight into the magic bands and frowned. "Lakash," he spat, turning away and closing his eyes again. What do you want now?"

"It's not what I want. It's what you want," the rat replied, climbing up onto the sack that the man's head rested on. "You want your old body back, right?"

"Eh?" he grunted, turning to look at the rat. "Damn right I want my body back! Why do you think I'm going through all of this?"

The rat rubbed its tiny paws together. "What if I not only offered to restore you to your original body, alive and well, but offered to make you young again?"

"Young?" the man echoed, sitting up and turning to look at the rat. "How young?"

"Oh, say, around eighteen?" the rat slyly replied with a smile. "You were in your sixties when you made the wish, right? Not much time left for you to purge your sins at that age."

Rathsmon scowled down at the rat. "Why? What do you want from me?"

"I need a service done. A service that you of all people are capable of doing," the rat replied, scurrying a bit closer. "I simply need to you drain the life from someone."

"You what?" the necromancer shot back, confused. "You want me to kill someone for you?"

Lakash nodded his tiny rat head. "Yes, exactly. I need you to kill someone."

"And in return, you'll not only restore me to my living body, but you'll make me young and healthy again, right?" the dead man queried, verifying the nature of the bargain.

"Exactly," the rat acknowledged, clapping its clawed paws together.

"All right," the necromancer replied guardedly. "Who do I have to kill?"

The rat scurried forward, climbing a couple of more sacks until he was almost as high as Rathsmon's head and in a secretive voice he said, "I need you to kill Arden."

"What?" Rathsmon squeaked, his head snapping around to see Arden arguing with Hecate about something. "Are you nuts? You want me to kill him? I thought you guys were allies. Don't you loose out on some major power deal if he dies?"

"That deal no longer matters," the rat replied angrily. "Circumstances have changed. The goal is no longer worth the risk." It glared at the dead man, its burning eyes seemed to burrow into him with a physical force. "I will give you your original body back, healthy and whole at the age of eighteen, and in return, Arden Bearridge must die!"