ForevaXena's FanFic . . .

Turn Of The Wheel

by Ellianora

Rating: this tale would be gen/alt/uber

Disclaimer: The characters are of my own creation an as such my property. Even though the two main women resemble a pair we all know and love they do have some differences.

Violence: The story does contain violence and some of it can be quite graphic so be warned.

Sex: Not too much here only a little hugging and kissing. A developing relationship between a person who is attempting to discover who she is and one who is hesitant to trust another with their heart and soul

Feedback: I have been working on this project for sometime and any comments would be greatly appreciated.

I would like to thank Trisha and Lesley for their time and patience in reading my work and putting up with my artistic tantrums.:)

Chapter 1

The woman darted through the constricting alleys of the dark city. It felt like there was fire coursing through her veins as she pushed herself onward. Her strong legs taxed to their limits, collapsed beneath her, causing her to tumble down onto the slime coated cobblestones below. Desperately, she threw out her arms stopping before her beautiful face could impact on the unyielding stones.

The woman desperately searched for the strength to force her pain-wracked body to continue. The voluminous crimson cloak draped across her broad shoulders enveloped her quivering body, its unique properties muffling the loud clatter of the objects in the sack slung over her shoulder as she had toppled over. The woman could feel her sack containing the helm and gauntlets she had managed to pilfer resting against her throbbing thigh. At least she had completed part of her mission. What mission? The memories were fast fleeing from her mind.

"I have to escape," she thought, willing her tortured body forward ignoring the blinding pain exploding in her brain. Escape what? What was she escaping from? Where was she? Panic welled up inside her. Like countless times before, the woman stuffed those fears back down. Now was not the time for them. There never was a time; fear like all emotions was a weakness. Why did she think that?

Slowly, she managed to regain her footing stumbling along into the night. Beads of sweat trickled endlessly down her dark face, as her strong arm slammed against a nearby wall. Blindly, she clutched the wall in an effort to keep moving. Then again, what was the point if she had no idea where she was going? It didn't matter. The only thing that did was continuing regardless of the cost. Never stop.

" Come on Ve..." she paused, who was she? One by one images of her past danced in her fevered mind only to dissolve and vanish. With each reflection, another fragment of her personality disappeared.

The alley began to swirl around her colliding into a kaleidoscope of insane colors and shapes. The woman clamped her eyes shut. Through the fog of her tormented psyche, she heard the sound of someone approaching echoing like a thundering heard of wild horses in the confines of her mind. Fingers trembling, she grasped for the sword strapped to her side. Her blurred vision spotted a large dark green blob rushing towards her.

"Come on," she croaked still desperately reaching for her sword," whoever you are let's finish this." Whatever was happening she was not going to down without a fight.

Unable to muster more inner strength her will finally surrendered to the blackness as she fell into the arms of whatever had been charging. There was nothing more she could do. The struggle was over.

In the shadows of the alleys a figure witnessed what was unfolding. The being protected by shadows observed as a man garbed in dark green robe held the woman, gently lowering her to the ground. Pausing slightly after considering the circumstances the figure retreated to the safety of the darkness. The figure would need to find another way.

Gradually opening her eyes, the woman stirred from a long slumber. The stiffness of her joints indicated that she had been sleeping for some time, although she could not be certain. As she regained consciousness, she slowly began to observe her surroundings. The walls and floors of the room were a lightly finished rough-hewn wood. Up against the far wall was a window covered by a piece of lightly oiled paper that allowed a small amount of light to illuminate the dark room. In one of the corners was a simple sturdy wooden table and chair with various items placed upon it. Propping herself up on an elbow, she discovered a waist high stand set against the wall opposite her bed with a wooden washbasin and pitcher above which hung a finely polished metal mirror glinting from the rays of the setting sun. Keeping with the practical furnishings, there was a nightstand with an oil lantern and lighting stick next to her straw bed. Beneath the small room, she could hear the banging of pots and pans and smell the enticing aroma of the evening's meal wafting through the floorboards. She could also detect the sweet scent of tobacco as the Inn's patrons entered the establishment ready to enjoy the evening.

The woman had no idea which city or town she found herself in let alone who she was or how she had ended up in this room. With a long languid cat like stretch, she arose from the bed and commenced to inspect her person. Her attire consisted of a white cotton blouse with billowing sleeves along with a pair of tight fitting black leather breeches. Next to the bed was a pair of tall black leather boots, recently polished to a shine. Picking them up, she determined that she evidently must pay very close attention to her appearance, odd considering the simplicity of her clothing. She had hoped that something might have sparked her memory by now. Shrugging resignedly, she pulled on her boots and stood up spotting a red sash that had been obscured by the lantern. Instinctively, she took the strip of bright red cloth and wrapped it about her waist. Making her way to the basin, she poured some water and splashed her face. After wiping it with a linen cloth, she gazed up into the cold metal mirror revealing a stranger staring back. Locks of silky raven black hair parted to the left crowned her head and barely touched her shoulders. Her oval face revealed a broad determined forehead with almond shaped ice blue eyes. Her nose was fine and straight over a set of full pouting lips. Her chin was narrow and slender. But what grabbed her attention the most were the eyes, the piercing ice blue eyes with the capacity to rip through one's very soul. She took several steps back from the mirror to view herself more completely. Her figure was very well proportioned. Estimating her height to be 6'2", she found her appearance to be most intimidating.

Feeling her honey - brown muscular arms, she determined she most likely had enough strength to punch a hole through one of the room's walls.

" Nice combination, " she thought to herself.

By now, the last embers of light were fast surrendering to the encroaching darkness. Walking over to the nightstand, she lit the lantern. Proceeding with her investigation she began to explore the personal objects on the table in the far corner of the room observing the neatly placed stacks of belongings. All of the items were equally spaced apart. On the right side of the table was a worn leather sack with an attached shoulder strap neatly tucked beneath, to the left rested a sword with a jewel encrusted full basket hilt along with a belt and scabbards set beneath it and several thin throwing knives. Placed precisely in the center of the table was a beautiful crimson silk cloth folded into a perfect square. The tall woman lifted it from the table causing the fabric to fall open into a flowing cloak. There was a golden clasp attached to the lapel. One side a sun, the other a moon, joined by a spun gold chain. Throwing the cloak about her shoulders, it descended over her form. On the table where the cloak had been was a headband made of the same fine fabric. Wrapping it around her head the scarlet flared ends intermingled with her luminous black hair. Stepping back over to the mirror she admired her reflection and beamed a smile of satisfaction at the stranger staring back. Next, she directed her attention towards the sword grasping the massive hilt and expertly maneuvering its weight in her hands. It was a large heavy single bladed weapon with a slight curve at the end of the blade and a serrated tip. It felt good, and comforted her despite the situation she found herself in. Turning the sword over in her hands, she instinctively knew it was one of her most prized possessions. She had even given it a name. "Havoc's Tears."

"A very imposing weapon." she stated matter of factly while strapping the sword girdle about her trim waist. She knew she would rather die than lose " Havoc's Tears." With a graceful flourish, she effortlessly slid it into the scabbard.

Remaining on the table were three slender throwing knives. Withdrawing one from its leather sheath, she ran a finger lightly over the very pointed razor sharp blade. Returning the knife to its covering, she placed it into her right boot and put the second into her left. The third, she tucked into the folds of her red sash focusing her attention upon the small leather satchel. Flipping over the flap, she discovered a full visor metal helm along with a pair of metal gauntlets inside. All had a dull appearance with a slight patina. She couldn't remember how or even why she had collected them. Stuffed at the bottom of the satchel was a wooden leather bound case that she removed and opened to find an ivory comb and a tiny silver hand mirror. Tucked to the side was a small skin filled with white cream. Dabbing a tiny amount on her hands she walked over to the mirror, rubbing it into to her skin and thoughtfully assessed her circumstance.

Judging from her carriage it was possible, she was a soldier, though a warrior would wear clothing that is more protective. The only armor she had was in the satchel and those pieces seemed out of place with the rest of her possessions. Her belongings and attire indicated she was a sailor. Though the voluminous crimson cloak would have been severely damaged by the harsh salt air and spray and there was no evidence to support that notion. She just didn't know. All she did remember were a few fundamental things.

Staring at her cold reflection, she dared herself to guess her own identity. " Laugh all you want," she boldly stated, "I am not giving up." Turning away, she slung the sack over her left shoulder and departed the small room and proceeding down the hall with a feline grace belying her size. Descending the stairs, a fat bartender glanced up from his task of cleaning and stacking the tankards next to the large casks of ale. She looked around the tavern that was just now reaching a respectable noise level as the nights' revelers began to fill up the small establishment.

" Well look who's risen from the dead, " the bartender bellowed as he polished the last tankard, placing it carefully on the stack. He rubbed his thick meaty hands with a cloth and tossed it on the counter. He was very unkempt with long stringy, oily brown hair and beads of sweat sprouting upon his bulbous face.

" That must have been some drunk ya were on, ya've been dead to the world for nearly two days."

The woman did not reply as she stalked towards him. The customers crowded around the bar stopped immediately and parted to give her plenty of room. A few averted their eyes from her penetrating gaze.

" How much do I owe you?" She asked evenly.

" Nothin'," the bartender said wiping his brow with a fat hairy arm. " The man who brung ya paid in advance for everythin' - including yer meal." He was about to make another off color comment when he caught the cold glint in her eyes. She was fast reaching the end of her already tried patience.

" I'll have the cook dish somethin' up for ya right away" he said looking down at the floor.

So, a man had brought her to the tavern she noted to herself, oblivious to the bartender's distress. Maybe this gentleman might know who she is. Possibly, he was a traveling companion though this seemed unlikely. Something in the back of her mind told her she usually traveled alone. She wanted answers and she wanted them now.

" Where is he at? " she directly queried the retreating bartender, motioning him to return. Hesitantly he obeyed.

" Aye. He's got his arse parked in the exact same booth he's been in since he brung ya here. He wanted ya to sup with him when ya came down."

" And why didn't you tell me this right away?" the woman questioned flatly.

"It-err slipped me mind," he nervously replied while twiddling his fingers and looking anywhere except in the tall dark woman's face. " Got so much to do, ya know, what with getting set up and such..."

" Fine," she interrupted, " so where is he at?"

" On the far east wall clear to the back, the guy in big olive colored robe, " he answered. " You can't miss him he really sticks out. Would ya like yer food and ale taken over to the table?" With a frustrated sigh she nodded her head yes.

"What'll ya have? " the bartender piped.

After ordering a joint of meat and rolls along with a tankard of ale, the bartender silently acknowledged her order with a nod and hurried to the kitchen relieved to be out of her presence.

In route towards the booth the fat bartender had indicated, the surrounding patrons continued to give her plenty of room. Meanwhile, a young petite woman holding a wooden lyre dressed in black tights and a violet leather tunic leaped onto the stage in the far eastern corner of the tavern. She was lithe, with delicate facial features and flaxen hair tightly braided down the middle of her back complimenting her golden complexion. Her slightly pointed ears and bright soulful deep violet eyes suggested Elven blood. Although most elves were rarely over five foot two, she appeared to stand almost five feet six inches. Initiating her performance with a short bow, she strummed her lyre and launched into a pleasant though hardly inspired ballad.

Reaching the booth, the tall woman realized what the bartender had meant by the description of her benefactor. The man appeared to belong in a library buried in the pages of dusty tomes and scrolls rather than a smoky noisy tavern. He was a frail looking individual at least from what she could discern of his physique swimming beneath his large olive robe. His complexion was ashen and his hair was dusty brown, short and neatly combed to the left. The sleeves of his robe enveloped his hands, with only the yellowed fingers from years of handling old tomes and scrolls peaking out. Unmindful to the growing chaos around him he sat in the midst of the bustling tavern absorbed by a scroll.

" Excuse me," she said weary of waiting for the young man to acknowledge her presence.

With a startled jerk, his head snapped upward to take in the woman looming over him. Looking at him directly, she was able to distinguish his angular face was dominated by a large hawkish nose sporting a slight hook and prominent jaw. A wide boyish grin lit up his brown eyes as he recognized her.

" You're awake," the young man said enthusiastically. "I was wishing you would rouse on this day. " He stood and eagerly motioned her to take the bench opposite him in the booth. " Please have a seat, have you ordered something to eat yet? If not, I'll motion one of the servers to our booth to procure our order. I imagine you must be famished after such a long slumber."

" No that's fine," she replied taking a seat. " I've already placed an order at the bar. " As the young man returned to his seat she glimpsed a small footman's mace partially hidden in the folds of his robe.

" Polite." the woman assessed noting his appearance was immaculate with every seam straight and every hair on his head in its proper place.

" I am elated to see you are in good health. Iside, the proprietor of this establishment is a fine person, though somewhat laconic in his attitudes and duties. He has provided a vast amount of information relating to the city and the surrounding region. Though I suspect he tends to intertwine more fancy than reality into his orations. Bader the cook, is exceptionally practiced at preparing the cuisine of the province which is not without its' merit."

" Pardon me," the woman said, raising her hand to interrupt the young man." Do we know each other?" If they did know each other, the she wondered how she managed to endure his constant rambling.

A quizzical look appeared on his face. " Whatever do you mean, my dear? I fail I am at a loss to comprehend to what you may be referring to."

"Well, she said haltingly," I don't remember anything about my past or myself. So are we friends, or might we otherwise know each other in some other sense?"

Raising his eyebrows he seemed to finally understand her discomfort." I would not necessarily declare that we are friends," he replied awkwardly as his eyes diverted to his fingers. " I espied you in a rear alleyway, stumbling about and shivering as if you were freezing or possibly dreadfully frightened. I thought you might have been waylaid by a band of ruffians or otherwise assaulted, and ministered to offer what assistance I may provide. By the time I reached you, the eyes in your head had rolled upwards and you buckled to the cobblestone. I feared your life had been extinguished, however upon further examination discerned this not to be the case. I determined that you were actually suffering from severe shock. Having studied numerous outstanding texts on the methodology for treatment of such a malady I applied my knowledge to your condition. Next, I enlisted several burly local gents to transport you to this establishment. I resolved to remain present in order to secure your recuperation and protect your belongings from the locals during your unfortunate time of vulnerability."

She stared in astonishment at the little man across from her. He had taken care of a complete stranger by rushing to her rescue with little or no regard for his own well-being.

" Very brave or very naive, " she thought, " but a good heart none the less." There seemed to be gentleness in his brown eyes that showed a kind caring soul.

" Are you a healer? " She asked him.

" No nothing of the sort," he replied. "I acquired a portion of knowledge throughout my studies. I have an ability to commit that which I read to memory."

" And who, " the tall woman asked, "Are you?"

"My deepest regrets, my thoughts are inclined to wander at times, I am Terrell, a priest of Oghan, the patron deity of knowledge." He said, offering his hand to her.

Grasping his hand so firmly the diminutive priest winced in pain, she made a mental note to watch her strength in the future. " A pleasure," she said, " and thank you for your help. Although I am presently unable to tell who I am, perhaps you can tell me where I am?"

" This establishment is known as the Wanderers Roost, a tavern located within the free state city of Madwand situated at the border of Sidanthra on the mouth of the Yarber River. You actually can't recall your identity or the location in which you find yourself?"

"No" she replied shaking her head, " I know a few particulars about the world but nothing in relation to myself or my past."

" You have no remembrance of anything with indication to yourself at all?"

" Not even which country I am in." she admitted. "Everything is a total blank."

" Well," Terrell began, " this continent is acknowledged as Iamoore according to the sages, as I previously affirmed we are presently residing in the independent city known as Madwand. Now, there are numerous areas of significance to each particular section for instance...."

Terrell continued with his long verbose lecture on the intrinsic worth of each realm and civilization. Sitting with her chin upon her hand, she wearily followed along. As he continued to prattle, her attention wandered to the composition the minstrel was playing and noticed it was faltering with hesitation and occasionally off key. Curious to the reason, she recognized a particular table near the stage occupied by three unkempt men all dressed a like banging tankards and hurling insults at the performer.

" I've heard more pleasant sounds in a barnyard," the fattest belched through cupped hands.

The apprehensive minstrel fought back the tears welling in her wide violet eyes. The tall woman's eyes burst into blue flames as the situation continued to unfold.

" Watch this," a small wiry man snapped striking her arm with a piece of fruit causing her routine to end abruptly as a single tear flowed down her cheek.

The largest man howled in amusement as he acquired another piece of fruit from the platter. " This ought to stop your caterwauling once and for all," he sniggered. Endeavoring to hurl the fruit at the young woman, he was brusquely interrupted by an unanticipated jolt of intense pressure applied to his wrist as his arm was swiftly arrested in mid-swing. Grimacing in pain, he released his hold on the fruit causing it to drop to the floor as he was yanked out of his chair and spun around to meet the icy gaze of the tall dark woman clutching the filthy collar of his tunic.

" There is no cause to be rude," she said in an intimidating manner while dangling the man above the floor with little effort.

"Who the dragperg are you?" he queried between clenched teeth as the tavern's regulars ceased their activities in anticipation of a fight. The other two buffoons squared themselves back from the table in preparation for a brawl.

" Do you know who we are?" the small wiry man scoffed.

" It is obvious from your uniform attire," Terrell replied stepping from behind the tall woman," you are members of the city guard. Nevertheless, if you find this entertainment not to your liking I concur with my cohort that there is no reason to disrupt the establishment's merriment. Rather, it may better serve all concerned if you perhaps relocated to where one might experience entertainment more to your 'cultured' tastes." The three men vacantly stared back at the priest.

" He means," the tall woman explained while hurling the large man into the stage" if you don't like the show then leave."

The man to her left drew a large baton from his belt, and swung for her head. Without a backwards glance her arm shot out taking hold of his wrist, wrenched him in front of her, and drove her knee into his stomach. He toppled to the floor groaning in pain.

" You witch!" the fat man roared attempting to regain his feet.

" I don't think so," a soft voice quipped as the young half-elf struck him over the head with a chair sending him crashing back to the floor cursing to all the gods.

Whirling around, the tall woman faced the last man as he snatched up a metal tankard. A cruel grin appeared on her lips. He let loose of the tankard allowing it to clatter to the table.

" I fear that any further altercations would be to your detriment. " Terrell explained from behind the tall dark woman.

The wiry little man still standing cautiously inched towards his buddy writhing on the floor. Keeping a wary eye on the tall woman as he assisted his wounded comrade up and they staggered towards the door. The fat man lurched behind rubbing his skull screaming, " You haven't heard the last of this!"

" Whatever" the tall woman countered." as far as I'm concerned it's over."

" That was an amusing distraction, "Terrell commented. " I see the attendant has brought our evening repast," he observed, looking over in the direction of their booth.

" What say we return to our booth so we may sup and recommence discussing your present predicament. I am curious to investigate a failure of recollection such as yours as I find it most extraordinarily compelling."

"I'm glad I can provide you with so much amusement," the tall woman said, rolling her eyes. The man was beginning to get on her already frayed nerves.

" Thank you," the young minstrel said as she jumped off the stage graciously interrupting Terrell, as he was about to launch in yet another long-winded oratory.

Closer, the tall woman could tell the half elf was about five feet five inches tall, too tall to be a full elf and with more rounded ears. However, she did have the large saucer-like violet eyes of an elf with a button nose and full rosy cheeks. Her features were delicate with thin lips and a firm set chin, a very attractive picture.

I'm named Ellianora," she said in a lilting voice, " but all my friends call me Ellie. Who might my valiant champions be?" she asked.

"I am Terrell of Camora," the priest replied, bowing slightly, " a priest of Oghan. As for my associate I fear she has no definitive memory as to her own identity."

With a look of sincere concern, Ellie stared up into the tall woman's face. " Is that true?" She asked. "That must be so dreadful."

"Yes," she admitted, glaring at Terrell who obviously was not very adept at keeping confidences nor understood the value of discretion.

"Thanks for your help," Ellie said, shaking each of their hands. "The proprietor told me I could sing for tips and earn a meal if I did well. I guess I go hungry again tonight." she told them down-casting her eyes and adding a twinge of disappointment to her voice

"Actually, we were about to return to our meal, perchance you would grace us with the pleasure of your company in exchange for some nourishment?" Terrell offered. The tall woman wondered if Terrell also took in sick animals and strays.

The minstrel's face lightened at Terrell's charitable suggestion " That would be great! I recently arrived from Weston in the borderlands and you two are the first decent people I've met," she said enthusiastically.

In the fog of her psyche, the tall woman realized that the description of being a decent person usually wasn't ascribed to her. "Let's get back to the table," she stated impatiently. "I am famished."

"No doubt," Terrell agreed, turning to Ellie, "she has been cataleptic for virtually two days."

Finally, the three sat down to their dinner. Ellie attacked the food on the platter as if it were going to run away. It seemed obvious it had been quite sometime she had last eaten.

"Don't talk much do you?" Ellie commented while soaking a biscuit in the juices on the plate.

"Frankly, I don't have anything to say. When I do, I'll say it. Besides, this one talks enough for both of us." She replied pointing to Terrell.

Ellie giggled at this sudden unexpected barb from the till now humorless tall dark woman then turned to the cleric. "So, Terrell what are you doing in Madwand? I don't recall any temples or libraries of Oghan in this region." Her question seemed to peak even the mysterious woman's interest despite her obvious aversion to his incessant prattle.

"Undeniably this district is deficient in such advantageous institutions and precisely why I am present. I am closeted to the Golden Dome Temple of Knowledge in Sidanthra, The great shining city. I had been allocated the task of classifying and filing the entirety of documentation in the colossal library for easy access by the initiated and dedicated followers of Oghan along with other seekers of knowledge. I have spent numerous hours pouring over immense volumes and scrolls of information within the confines of those hallowed halls. It is fascinating work to say the least. "

"The very least," the tall dark woman thought to herself.

"Nevertheless," Terrell continued on, " a sage situated now in Madwand wished to have his scrolls organized and having none of our temples near petitioned my superiors for a cleric to execute such an undertaking. "I was selected to complete this honorable project owing to my tenacious attention to detail and ability."

"And give your superiors a much deserved rest," the tall dark-skinned woman thought amusingly to herself."

"I only just completed this assigned conscription and was scheduling my departure to Sidanthra when I encountered the lady here."

At this time, Terrell began to relate the entire tale to Ellie including every little detail concerning his chance meeting with the tall woman, which challenged her attentions greatly.

Upon completion of his account, Terrell and Ellie both turned to scrutinize the tall woman with contemplative looks on their faces as she was taking another long draw from her ale. "What?" Glaring back at them she queried defensively.

"I suppose," Ellie, said to Terrell, "we should at least try to find out who she is. It just doesn't seem proper not knowing what to call her."

"Why not," the tall woman replied curtly, " a name doesn't mean anything."

"True, but it's a good start to recover your memory, " Ellie replied, "lets see, from your garb and weapon I would suppose you've spent some time at sea, a sailor or an explorer perhaps?"

"I would concur with that evaluation," Terrell agreed. "She does give the impression to be that of a mariner."

"Perhaps we should visit some of the taverns closer to the docks," Ellie added. "Maybe someone there might recognize her or at least have some idea as to who she might be."

"And what's in it for you?" The tall woman warily asked.

Ellie shrugged, "I've got nothing better to do besides my momma said it's always best to help people when you can."

" One might say I saved your life," Terrell said, "in more civilized kingdoms it would be supposed that your continued existence within this sphere is currently my duty. I never evade responsibility."

The woman was attempting to formulate a sharp reply when the bartender inched his way slowly towards their booth." I hate to interrupt ye," he whispered fearfully, "those guys ya had a run in with were city watch and they'll be returning with their buddies soon. I can't afford to have me Inn smashed to bits in a brawl."

"I take it then you wish us to vacate these premises prior to their return," Terrell stated.

The bartender wrung his hands giving a nervous glance in the tall dark woman's direction. " "If it's not much trouble," he said, "please finish, but if ya could see yer way to..."

"We were just about to leave," the tall woman interrupted as she rose from the booth causing the bartender to quickly step backwards.

"It is probably best we go," Ellie concurred, taking a final bite of juice soaked biscuit, and dumping the half full basket into her leather satchel. "The quicker we leave the sooner we can get to the docks."

Chapter 2

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