Chapter Twenty-Nine: Murphy's Law

This must be a stupid human formality, Firar thought irritably to himself as he trudged slowly behind the ever-composed Araphel. On my world they would simply hang us, not fritter about with ceremonies!

A lad with a drum headed the short procession, with soldiers in uniform on either side. They were all holding their fire-sticks, and Firar held his head up higher and straightened his backbone further. He was not afraid of these...boys with sticks. And might he shave off his beard if he was! The gray, bulky clouds scudded slowly overhead, and distant thunder rumbled ominously across the land. The Keeper repressed a shiver as a twisted, gnarled tree that had seen too many storms loomed before them, situated dominantly on a small hilltop. The nooses were already tied to the branches, swaying slightly in the breeze that had come up.

Araphel, flexed his newly-bound hands, knowing he could not hope to reach for the knife now. He did not see Scott anywhere in the gathered crowd, but he sensed the animosity and opposition in the air. Things would not go easily for them. But there were other concerns also weighing upon his mind. What of Bronwe? The soldiers that had separated them had seemed to have her best interests in mind, if they were a little misplaced. She was the Peacekeeper; was she even now working on a solution to their problem peaceably? If she was, she had better step up the pace!

As Araphel and Firar turned to face the sea of blue uniforms, the elf caught sight of a tall figure pushing his way through the crowd, led by Murphy. The man's uniform was more elaborate and decorated than any of the others, with a sword at his hip and a large hat on his head. But it was not this new figure that caught his attention as much as the fact that Bronwe was following him closely. A wave of relief swept through the Healer, though his expression never changed; the Peacekeeper was unharmed and there to hopefully negotiate their release, necks intact.

The Healer kept his eyes and ears open as the man drew closer, and suddenly, the same feeling he had experienced when he had first seen the Peacekeeper returned. This man...Araphel stared harder, willing him to meet his gaze. Suddenly the man's gray eyes met his, and Araphel could not help but show his surprise. Another elf...here?

When Captain Kelley caught a glimpse of one of the prisoners, he froze again. What were they doing here? He thought all other elves were against the war. Then again, they were caught unexpectedly, and were innocent travelers that just happened to get in the line of vision of a paranoid Union officer at the wrong time.

Kelley laughed inwardly. Stupid Murphy. Why do you do stupid things? Because you're stupid. That's why...

"Uh...excuse me, Captain, but why are you staring at the prisoner like that?"

Kelley was startled for a moment and looked at the speaker who had broken his mental berating of the lower and slower officer. He thought quickly.

"Oh...he just reminded me of a wash tub. You know, all grey and shiny. That's all."

"Uh...yes sir. I suppose he does, sir." The soldier walked away with a confused look on his face.

Bronwe was relieved to see Araphel and Firar were still safe, though not for much longer if the nutty captain couldn't help. A washtub? She privately wondered if he'd ever worked with mercury. That might explain some things. Just then Murphy turned and addressed Kelley.

"I captured them outside of camp. They were using the lady here as their truce flag. They are clearly spies! They deserve to hang!"

Kelley nodded as he looked at the bound men and rubbed his chin. "That may be true, but, one thing still plagues me...can I have my corset back?"

Murphy blinked. "Your...what...sir?"

"My corset." Seeing the bewildered look on the soldier's face, he sighed in frustration. "Don't tell me...you lost it, didn't you? That was my best one." Shaking his head, he began to walk away, to a chair that had been set before him with a 'front row seat' of the hanging as it were. "Now," he said as he sat down, "tell me the charges of these men."

Murphy trotted to keep up with the Captain, and stood at attention next to the chair, "Sir, these men are charged with kidnapping, spying, plotting to overthrow this camp, resisting arrest, being southern sympathizers and," with a quick glance at Bronwe, still standing nearby, Murphy concluded, red-faced, "bothering the lady, sir."

Kelley watched the Sergeant rattle off the charges in silence. When he was finished, Kelly gently took off his hat and looked up at Murphy. "Right." He stood up, placed his hat on his chair and strode towards the men, whose lives were in his hands. "Kidnapping, you say?"

"Yes, sir."

"Kidnapping who?"

Murphy pointed at Bronwe. "The lady, sir."

Araphel choked on a strangled protest, forgetting for a heated instant that there was a gag in his mouth. He had no way of informing them of his and Firar's innocence, but as the captain turned to face him, he remembered there was one way...

I do not know who you are precisely, Captain, but I and my companion are innocent of these charges.

Kelley smirked nearly inconceivably. Friend, I would wink to right now, if I could, but... there are people watching. Peace... He began to turn, but quickly looked back at Araphel. Do try the biscuits. And he turned to address Bronwe. "Ms. Mason, did these two men indeed kidnap you?"

The Healer was left to blink in disbelief at the captain's rather...odd remark. Yet he held his temporary peace, hoping things would play out in their favor.

"Of course not, sir," she replied, "They are my friends and were only trying to help me."

"Innocent on the kidnapping charge. Next...spying. What were they doing when you found them, Sergeant?"

"They were," Murphy paused to be certain of his words, "trying to take control of her horse, forcing her to cooperate with their plan. Fortunately for her, Thompson and I heard her calling for help and ran to rescue her."

Bronwe had to bite her tongue. First of all, she did not panic and call for help—she was a better rider than that—secondly, this Murphy was making up lies!

"And what was their plan exactly, Sergeant?"

"Why, to use her white dress as a truce flag and...enter our camp. They wanted our supplies. Everyone knows how the gray-backs are running out of everything, sir," Murphy looked a little uncomfortable under the cross-examination.

Araphel bit down on a guffawing noise. Murphy's story had more holes than Firar had knives. And from the elf's experience, that was quite something.

"And," Kelley emphasized his question with his hands, "you actually heard them say this? That they were using this lovely lady," he smiled at Bronwe, "as a truce flag?"

Murphy scrunched up his face, "Not in so many words, sir."

"'Not in so many words.' So, no, you did not hear that plan. How do you know that they were not just traveling when the lady's horse was frightened by the gun shots, spooked and they were helping her calm her horse?" Kelley paused to stare at Murphy. "How do you know, Sergeant?"

Shuffling his feet, he was forced to admit, "I don't know, sir. It all happened rather quickly."

"So, it is very possible that you jumped the gun, again,Sergeant?"

The sergeant looked pained. "Maybe?"

The captain nodded. "Ahhh...I see, 'maybe'." He put his hands behind his back. "Let's leave that there, for you cannot prove that they were in fact plotting against this camp, and move onto resisting arrest. Sergeant, if you were accused of something you did not do, when you were a stranger in a new place, what would you do?"

Murphy sighed. "I suppose I would try to explain myself?"

"And if they didn't listen to your explanation?" Kelley crossed his arms.

"I would probably try to free myself?" The sergeant was beginning to sound uncertain.

"And I suppose that they would allow that?" The captain raised his eyebrows.

"No, sir," he replied, "I doubt they would." Murphy was feeling a little foolish now, and he didn't relish it. A suspicion took root in his mind.

Next, Kelley walked over towards the prisoners and pointed. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Sergeant, but those clothes do not look at all like southern fashions. Do they to you?" He put his hand on his chin in mock-pondering. "Come to think of it, they don't look like there are from the North either."

Murphy stood silently; there was nothing to say to that...was there?

Bronwe watched the trial with interest. This was certainly not what she expected from the captain. He was completely competent. Appearances were deceiving indeed.

Araphel met Kelley's eyes. Would you believe...we're Canadian?

"Wait, I've seen those types of clothes on some Canadians I met before the war, in fact. Very suitable for travel. Canadians are nomads by nature." Kelley turned to the watching crowd. "That is, in fact, why we could not defeat them in the War of 1812; most of the time there were no cities to sack, their population being so small, and the other times, we could not even find the people!"

"But sir!" Murphy protested, "We did win that one."

The captain turned sharply. "Did we? I must have not received that wire." He looked down, as if he was remembering something. "I …must have been …giving my dog a bath that day." He quickly turned to Bronwe. "Do you swear to God that you are telling the truth in this trial, Lady?"

Well, she was telling the truth, of that was certain. "I do, sir."

"Then, would you please tell the court," he said smiling kindly and indicating the spectators surrounding them, "what your position is on black slavery, Ms. Mason?"

Bronwe's breath was caught in her throat. Why was he doing this? She was going to get them all killed. Chewing on her bottom lip and praying she was giving him the answer he needed, she replied, "I am afraid I do not follow your politics, sir, but I do know that slavery, in any form, is morally wrong. No one should control the life of another."

Kelley clapped his hands once. "There you have it!" he exclaimed. "'Slavery in any form is morally wrong' is her position. Sworn under oath, in God's sight, I may add." He said, pointing to the gray sky. "Therefore she cannot be a southern sympathizer. Therefore, these men were not spying on the camp for any reason, for they are her travel companions and were accused falsely." He picked up his hat from the chair, dusted it off and put it back on his head. Sideways. "Release them," he finished with a wave of hand, "and return their possessions, as well as their animals, so they can continue on their journey." He started to walk away. "I shall be in my tent, working on my battle plans. This time I expect not to be disturbed."

Bronwe watched, relieved as two soldiers stepped forward to untie her companions. Well, she thought, that was easy enough, and she smiled at Araphel.

Unfortunately for Bronwe, she had underestimated the laws of ironic narration; just as Kelly walked past Murphy, she heard the sergeant mutter, "Unless you're in league with them, Captain."

Kelley stiffened and halted several strides away from Murphy. The captain turned slowly turned to face the sergeant. He spoke slowly, making every word drip with hidden venom that had been brewing for a long time. "What did you say?"

The sergeant paled but didn't back down, "I said, maybe you were trying to free these here men because you're a sympathizer."

This time, Kelley tried hard not to talk through his teeth in anger, but he was nearly seething in rage. "I would tread carefully if I were you, Sergeant, or you may soon be introducing yourself as 'Private' Murphy."

Bronwe lifted her eyes from the pair to scan the crowd assembled. She was shocked to note many of the faces bore the same expression as the sergeant. Apparently, he was not alone in his suspicions.

Araphel tensed at the turn of the tide. Just when he had thought victory in their grasp, Sergeant Murphy had opened his rather oversized mouth...again. The soldiers that had been meaning to untie him and Firar stepped back slowly, watching the verbal jabs fly back and forth.

Knowing it was a serious offence to strike a superior officer, Murphy kept his hands at his sides, clenched in fists. "It all makes sense, sir," and the sarcasm was tremendous, "why we didn't do well in the last several battles. If I didn't know better, I'd say you was sabotaging our efforts."

Kelley was fit to be tied. Murphy had gone too far this time. Kelley had truly done his best in the battle plans, but sometimes the weather and sometimes it was the kid-glove boys like Murphy who weren't toeing the mark. "Is that so? How do I know it isn't you, Sergeant, that is our Jonah?"

Murphy purposely clasped his hands behind his back, to keep them away from his captain's neck in an action he would likely regret. The two prisoners watched, their eyes glued to him as the sergeant tried to formulate a response through his mounting rage.

Having seen more than her share of lynching, Bronwe recognized the signs. This did not bode well. Kelley had better regain control of the crowd, and soon, or Austus would have three dead group members on his hands. Why would he do this to them? Was he so bored that he required lesser beings to entertain him with near death experiences?

"Well, Sergeant," Kelley's eyes flashed in bottled anger, "since you fail to answer my question, that is certainly suspicious in itself. I have made note of late that you seem to be somewhat of a loose cannon; one who thinks he has better ideas than his superiors. Is that not so?"

Murphy lifted his chin in a defiant manner. "I say only what I see, sir. There isn't one of us here that hasn't wondered at your 'ideas.'" He loaded the last word with all the spite he could muster. "Sporks, corsets, washtubs!" His eyes were big and bugged as he shouted back at his captain.

A murmur of agreement rippled through the men and thunder rumbled again in the distance. The wind picked up slightly and Bronwe noticed a chill in the air. It was almost as if the weather was echoing the dispositions of the soldiers. The eerie atmosphere did nothing to calm her disquiet. If Kelley didn't do something soon...

The sergeant drew on the discontent of the crowd to fuel his audacity. "If you are the ideal model of a superior, Captain, then I am glad that I am not one! You haven't led us at all, you've only got us into more trouble than this war's worth!"

"And what have you done to help, Sergeant, other than spread your paranoia like a plague? The more you accuse people of being spies, the more it makes me wonder if you might be a spy yourself!" Kelly was no idiot and why he played one was his secret, but Murphy's suspicions were very reflective of the Salem Witch Hunts. Kelley had, in fact, been the Salem at that time, and that had not been a joyous time, but it certainly had been a learning experience. Learning that he would try to use to his advantage.

"Being paranoid is what keeps us alive out here!" Murphy shot back, unconsciously leaning towards the captain though he hadn't moved forward. "If I'm paranoid it's because my superior can't handle things for himself and I've developed a sense of self-preservation!"

"Self-preservation!" Kelley shot back. "That sounds like someone who would turn their own mother in, if it meant saving his own worthless hide! Sounds exactly like the mentality of a traitor!"

The scene had gone from positive to pessimistic, and promised to descend from there. From the looks of things, the captain was losing control of both his emotions and the situation. Bronwe signed internally.

"No, sir," Murphy replied in a cooler manner. "We aren't talking about me. We're talking about you. And from the looks of things, not one of us here really has any faith in your judgment any more. I think the time has come for a little demotion. Bryce, Finn, seize the captain and tie him with the others, charges of insanity and consorting with the enemy!"

Bryce and Finn grabbed Kelley, and wrestled with him to bind his arms behind his back. "Murphy!" he bellowed. "You're a fool, Murphy!" A third soldier joined in to restrain the captain. "You're only weakening the Union army by doing this! Turning everyone against each other!" His words were muffled as he was thrown to the mud and bound.

- - - - -

"Shkena, dear one, you know I love you and all that sappy nonsense, but what are you doing, stacking the deck against them like that?" Austus was watching the whole scene unfold before him while nibbling on a pear. "Did you have any purpose for allowing Murphy to be so dunderheaded?"

His wife didn't spare him a glance as she fussed and played with her miniature silver figurines, prominently displayed on a large map, not dissimilar to the one Captain Kelley had been using in his tent. "Because I'm going to see if this Peacekeeper of yours can do her job, you silly man. She is untested, and I could think of no better way to judge her mettle. Do not worry, if things go ill I'll simply pop them out and back to the Dwarf's world." She waved a slender hand sparkling with jewels dismissively.

"That crowd's not going to listen to her," Austus warned, taking another bite. "They're too militant as it is."

Shkena smiled to herself almost absently, brushing her fingers against a portly figure, still holding a potato-peeling knife. "I hold the voice of reason right here..." and she leaned forward and whispered to the statue...

- - - - -

"...all's I'm saying is it'd be foolish to string 'im up with the rest," Scott said, stepping forward to meet Murphy. "Choose one of them to speak on their behalf, the lady. She hasn't offered us any trouble, and she's hardly spoken a word. Let's hear what she has to say before we go doin' things we can't take back in hindsight."

Murphy looked between the three trussed men and the white-clad woman who stood tall, her emotions carefully concealed. His anger had started to cool, and grudgingly he nodded, seating himself in Kelley's abandoned chair.

Bronwe felt the weight of the crowd's gaze fall upon her, as well as the fate of the three men behind her. Surely she had been in a tighter situation...she just couldn't remember when. Gathering up everything she had overheard while 'napping,' she glanced at Kelley, Araphel and Firar, as if to ask for last minute instructions.

Kelley had calmed down a little since his 'capture', but he was still very put out at Murphy for pulling this stunt the day before the attack. He had to remain calm, something he had failed at moments before, and looked Bronwe in the eye. These men are proud, so they value honor. They also have family that they are protecting, as they should. And right now, they are forgetting exactly what they are fighting for. Kelley's face was now emotionless. They are not very educated, but they know their morals.

Bronwe turned to look down at the crowd gathered around the foot of the small hill. The men in front of her were angry, irrational and in the grips of mob mentality. If she wasn't careful, if she couldn't turn the tide in their favor, Firar, Araphel, Kelley and likely she would all be hanged. No pressure.

Drawing herself to her full height she looked over the men and began speaking in a soft voice that carried on the wind. "My good sirs," she started, "while I do not follow your politics, I do know that you fight for a noble Cause: the liberation of a people, held in bondage, forced to live under dreadful conditions." Here, her voice nearly cracked; this was hitting too close to home. She took a steadying breath and continued earnestly, "You say these men are deserters. Will you twice condemn a man, or even two, for thinking for himself? How can you, in good conscience, sentence them to death for first believing and taking a stand for what they were taught from childhood as Truth, and then, when they re-evaluate the Truth and find it lacking, how can you again condemn them to death? Yes, the lie they were told is atrocious, but the fact that they realized it was a falsehood should mean something."

The crowd had simmered into a reverent silence, and Firar himself listened, spellbound. Bronwe appeared as an angel before lowly creatures, her tongue as silver to the listening ear. He knew now what had been going on, piecing it together from Araphel's conversation with the potato-peeler and Bronwe's speech. How could he have doubted her ability as Peacekeeper?

Kelley watched in silence as Bronwe held his former soldiers' attention with her arguments. She was well-spoken and well-versed in negotiating to illogical mobs. Keep going, he urged the back of her head.

"And what of their families?" the Peacekeeper continued, noticing the change in her audience. "These men may have wives and children at home. Who will provide for them if their fathers are taken away? Can you send those families into poverty, starvation and illness over an Idea - even a bad Idea?

"This country was founded on the notion that everyone was to be given life, liberty and a chance for happiness. Those are noble statements and are well worth fighting to maintain. But if you chose to condemn these men for the Idea, then you take away not only their life, but your reason to fight. In taking away their liberty, their ability to choose which side to fight for, you diminish your own Cause."

Murphy's eyes narrowed as he took in the change in the crowd around him. His own suspicions were beginning to ebb, and he slowly felt himself swayed by the lady's argument. Was it true that he had forgotten about the bigger picture in his action to ensure better leadership? Then he sat back, crossing his arms hostilely over his chest. Or was the lady simply trying to personally discredit him? Murphy couldn't simply rescind his actions; there would be consequences for his brashness. But the other soldiers were no longer on his side. They were wavering on a dangerous middle-ground, taken in by the serpent-tongued woman's speech.

"Don't listen to her!" he yelled, springing to his feet. "She could be telling us simply what we want to hear!"

Having kept an eye on the troublemaker, Bronwe was not shocked when he attacked her argument. She kept her face carefully blank, knowing from experience that to react would provoke him further.

Murphy simply stood there, quivering with uncertainty as the woman refused to rise to his bait. Her blue eyes were locked on him in a manner that made him feel as if he were a small child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The thought came to him that it was too late to back out now. He had begun his accusations against her...why not finish them before she took the other soldiers' support from him completely?

"Listen to me, all you men!" he shouted. "Clearly this woman is on the side of these three! She was found with the first two, and they are likely all spies! No one would suspect a lady spy, would they?"

Murmurings arose among the ranks. The sergeant continued, "This is all a Confederate plot to get our battle plans and win the day in the coming fight. We can't listen to them, any of them!" He paused, and leveled a finger at Bronwe. "Especially her."

Kelley had completely calmed down and now was shaking his head. Listen to yourself, Murphy. Would you just stop and listen to yourself? You've gone completely mad!

Bronwe stood on the hill, the wind whipping her hair about her face. This change in the audience did not bode well for the four on the hill. She could feel her temper approach its boiling point. This man was an idiot. She refused to argue with idiots; they only lowered her to their level and beat her with experience.

From her vantage point on the hill, Bronwe was the first to observe a strange parade approaching. Several uniformed officers were leading a short, withered older woman. The lady was apparently leaning on the tall man at the front of the procession, using her cane to emphasize her gestures, swinging it wildly.

Drawn by her focus, several soldiers turned to see what was behind them. One or two started snickering, though they quickly disguised it as sneezes.

Murphy suddenly stiffened where he stood and pivoted very slowly on one heel. His eyes bulged and his throat constricted, allowing him to make only choked squeaks. He suddenly appeared to shrink in stature to that of a young boy as the procession drew closer.

As he saw who was leading the procession, Kelley suddenly stood up at attention, even though his hands where behind his back. Since not everyone had his vantage point and recognized who had just arrived, training and current rank took over and he did what protocol demanded. "Attention! Colonel Larson has arrived!" Although the announcement had come from the unofficially demoted officer, they still had to acknowledge that Colonel Larson had indeed arrived and all stood straight. Some saluted.

Murphy shot to attention with the rest, even though the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach made him want to turn and bolt. He had a suspicion that he knew why they were here. But he was a soldier, and a sergeant at that! He would stick to his guns; he always did, for good or ill.

A small, round-shouldered man shambled his way to the front, trailed by two beefy men who were cracking their knuckles as if they had never heard of arthritis. "So, y'see, Colonel Larson, sir, according to Widow Murphy's story, and the constant evidence the subject has displayed, I, as the chairman of the Hansburg Insane Asylum must insist that the subject is permanently detained, for the safety of society."

Bronwe stood still, watching the developing scene with interest. If the sergeant's face was anything to go by, he was in a lot of trouble. She struggled to keep her expression blank and impassive, managing to keep her turbulent thoughts hidden...for now. Having no idea what was happening, she needed to be ready for anything.

Colonel Larson finally cleared the soldiers now that they weren't blocking his way. He began looking around the crowd. "Captain, I was wondering if you would-" then he saw what was happening. "What in blazes is going on here!" he exploded. "Murphy, what in Sam Hill do you think you're doing? Why is my captain up there? My captain and he's blasted good one, too! Explain yourself, Sergeant!"

Murphy put on his best stalwart expression, though inwardly his insides were like jelly. "He is a traitor, Colonel. He was conspiring with these three strangers against us, giving our battle plans to the South!"

The asylum director interrupted, gasping with his wheezy voice. "That's exactly what I mean, Colonel. Suspicious of everyone and everything. Common trait nowadays, but you see how dangerous 'tis!"

The short, silver haired woman's face contorted as she choked back a sob, the Colonel politely handing her a clean handkerchief. She dabbed at her eyes and gave her nose a satisfying honk before glaring at Murphy and waving her cane. "He thought I were a spy!" she wailed, displaying several prominent missing teeth, "Me! His own mother! Me, what sat up nights wid him when he had them measles, thinking he wouldn't live through de night." She swung her cane wildly, causing Larson to back away to avoid being brained. "Locked me in de root cellar, he did! Weeks ago! Would've died, too, if t'weren't for the taters and apples."

Araphel and Firar strained their necks to exchange bemused glances with each other. Things might finally be going in their direction. It would be a pleasant change.

Larson nodded. "There, there, Mrs. Murphy," he said as he dodged the flying cane again. "I assure you we will get this matter straightened out." He paused to give the sergeant a hard look. "And would someone cut my captain down from there!" he ordered.

Murphy was forced to step out of the way as twenty or so soldiers stampeded Kelley's position, all eager to set him free before the wrathful eyes of a superior officer. He gulped again, his mouth dry. "Y-you see, it is quite explainable, Colonel..." he began.

"Ah, yes, now comes the justification," the stooped man said, nodding sagely as he absently clasped and unclasped his hands, studying his new 'subject' with a cold, appraising eye. "Have you seen all you need to, Colonel?" His knobbly fingers were practically twitching with eagerness at getting to study the sergeant.

Seeing that she was not needed, Bronwe stepped back, trying to make herself invisible; a tricky job, as she was wearing a long, white gown and she was the only woman, not including the illustrious Mrs. Murphy.

Speaking of Mrs. Murphy, she was still dabbing at her eyes and waving her cane. "How could you do dis to me, Mervin? Me, yer own mother!"

"You were selling information to the South," the sergeant countered, suddenly realizing how weak his arguments sounded. "And then… you refused to … let me join the army!"

"Absolutely crackers, that one," the asylum director cackled gleefully. "May we take him away now, Colonel?" he begged again.

Larson's jaw was set and he nodded. "You may. Take him."

The old man smiled in triumph. "All right, get 'im boys." The two muscular men accompanying him needed no further urging. With devilish grins on their faces, they advanced on Murphy.

"No, no, wait! I'm not crazy, I'm not! I'm just trying to defend my country..." Murphy tried to run, but he was too late. One of the meatheads dealt the sergeant a heavy blow that made him sag, unconscious. Then, they dragged him away.

And there's the end of that! Firar thought, grimly satisfied. Now to convince the others to untie him when he didn't understand a word of their language. That would be a true challenge.

Kelley rubbed his wrists from where the ropes had been tight against his skin. He turned to face his fellow prisoners. "Release them as well, though keep watch over them." The soldiers nodded and began to cut the bonds that held Araphel and Firar.

As the captain approached Colonel Larson, he saluted and then smiled. "Beg your pardon, Colonel, for state of my uniform, but the soldiers thought I could use a good mud bath."

Larson chuckled. "That's all right, Captain, I'm just glad that the execution wasn't completely carried out by the time we had arrived."

"So am I." Kelley indicated Bronwe. "You have Ms. Mason to thank for that. She was the one who was...er...defending my life after the trial fell apart."

Finding herself the center of attention, Bronwe refused to get flustered, nodding slightly in acknowledgement of the statement.

The colonel bowed respectively. "You indeed have my thanks, Miss, that I still have a captain."

Bronwe inclined her head, "I am glad I was able to be of assistance."

Araphel and Firar, meanwhile, were rubbing circulation back into tingling fingers and attempting to swallow the gags' taste from their mouths. After clearing his throat a few times, the Healer dared to venture, "What will you do with us?" He looked between the colonel and the captain, unsure of who to address with his question.

Captain Kelley stepped forward and addressed Araphel. "I would like to ask you a few questions in private if it is not too much trouble. I hope you don't mind just a slightly longer delay to your travels."

There is that feeling again, Araphel thought to himself. He smiled slightly. He had a nagging hunch that all of his 'travels' were on the captain's behest. And he wouldn't be too surprised if a glowing demigod showed up sooner or later. "Of course," he replied, offering a half-bow. "It will be my pleasure."

Captain Kelley smiled. "Excellent." He turned back to the Larson. "I thank you, Colonel, for coming to my aide when it was most urgent, and I would love to share a cup of cold tea and all, but I do have a battle plan to iron out. I'm sure it'll meet your approval."

"It always does."

Kelley turned to some of his men. "Francis, Phillip. Please help escort these gentlemen to my tent." Saluting the higher officer, Kelley picked up his hat from the mud and motioned to Bronwe. "Ladies first," and offered his arm.

She forced a small smile and gingerly took his arm, trying to avoid the very muddy spots. Bronwe had a feeling this was going to be an interesting meeting.

"Now that I have my tongue back," Firar growled low to Araphel, "it would be a good idea to explain matters."

"There is no time, Master Dwarf," the elf hissed back in reply. "Keep your eyes and ears open, but not your mouth. Allow me to do all the talking."

The Keeper harrumphed. "As if anybody but you or the lady would understand me." He crossed his arms and stumped after Araphel somewhat angrily, keeping a wary eye on the guards. He was the only one not forced to duck as they entered a low canvas tent that was sparsely furnished, but appeared well lived-in. Firar found he liked the grubby, homey air.

Upon entering his tent, Kelley promptly took off his hat, picked up what vaguely resembled a hair brush, untied and began brushing the now dried mud from his long white blond hair. "Stupid Murphy." He looked up and saw that the guards had also entered the tent as well. "You may wait outside; I can handle this." The guards saluted and exited. Then, to his guests, "Please, have a seat."

The Healer cast about for a vacant seat and, at last, settled gingerly on the edge of the cot, motioning discreetly for Firar to join him. The dwarf, for once, obliged the elf and said nothing. "What do you wish to know from us?" Araphel asked quietly, looking at Bronwe.

While brushing his hair, he looked sideways towards Araphel. "I want only to do my own, reasonable investigation without a paranoid officer always looking over his shoulder."

"Amen to that," Araphel muttered in a not-so-quiet voice. "I will admit to being somewhat alarmed at that particular turn of events. But I stand by what I said earlier: we are not part of your war; we are here merely by accident."

Kelley straightened and pushed his hair, now free of as much mud as possible, back behind his shoulders. "And I believe you, so have no fear of me. For what person, or elf in this case, would knowingly and willingly travel on or near a battle field, even if they were a spy?"

The Healer leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. "True enough," he conceded. "But our truth is even stranger, and I have the vaguest notion that soon you will become a part of it." The feeling he had first experienced after seeing Kelley had not abated; it had intensified. If Austus really did appear, things would surely turn interesting...

Bronwe, standing by the door, had been content to blend in with her surroundings. At these words she listened more intently. No one had explained anything to her, and her knowledge of the situation was limited to job descriptions. And it would give her something to think on and would, perhaps, give her time to quell the tremors that were running through her limbs.

Kelley gave Araphel an odd look. "I'm not sure I know what you mean. If you expect me to leave with you, I'm afraid I can't. If you hadn't noticed, I have an army to run and a Cause to fight for."

Bronwe smirked internally. Boy, did that sound familiar.

"I can't just go gallivanting around the country side with two elves and a midget with no particular purpose."

"Actually, Captain, I'm not giving you a choice," a smooth tenor voice broke in. Araphel, Firar, and Bronwe all turned to see the shining form of Austus standing at the flap of the tent. "Your troops will be well in hand, I assure you."

Austus Is he trying to give me a heart attack? Bronwe thought, shaking a little more noticeably. We need to make him wear bells or something, so we can hear him coming.

Kelley spun around to see who had just spoken. Standing there and glowing slightly was a tall, muscular, bronze-skinned man; definitely not a Canadian, Kelley concluded. "Who are you?" he demanded. "How did you get past my guards?"

Austus merely smiled his infuriating all-knowing smile. "I have a proposition," he began, completely ignoring Kelley's question. "This world does nothing for the purpose of sitting and chatting. I propose that we adjourn to a more...comfortable location. I give you the blink and a half of an eye to gather whatever you feel you need."

Kelley blinked, then realized very quickly that he had wasted more than half of the time that this unknown and very silent visitor had given him. He stepped towards the cot on which two former prisoners where perched, grabbing a satchel containing his pistol, a small supply of gun powder, a bag of bullets, and his boot knife, thankful his sword was still on his belt. He then reached for his hat.

Too late. Austus snapped his fingers and the world dissolved in flash of blue light. When vision and reality returned, the four travelers found themselves in a structure resembling a Greek temple... buoyed on clouds. Austus waved his hands genially at all the soft, silken furniture strewn around before seating himself in luxurious chair and plucking a stem of grapes from a bowl.

Kelley looked around him, wide-eyed. He was in the most serene place he had been in a long time, and here he had an arm-full of weapons; he enjoyed the irony quite a bit. He chose a soft arm chair to sit down and quietly started to arrange his weapons around his person.

Perching herself stiffly on the edge of a chaise-lounge, Bronwe looked around. She tried willing herself to stop shaking, and when that didn't work, she tried not thinking about the upsetting ideas. To distract herself, she took to studying her new surroundings. The whole room, if it could be called a room, radiated peace, tranquility, and rest. It was just what she needed.

Firar settled himself on a silk pouf, too used to random changes to worry about anything. As long as it meant that he wasn't tied up, and that he could talk freely, the Dwarf felt that he had no problems. Well, not any large ones, at any rate. There was that nagging problem of Araphel having one of his knives...

The Healer, for his part, was not completely at ease, but he hid it behind a façade of calmness and expectancy. Austus had never done something like this before, to sit down with them in a conference session. He sat gingerly, waiting to see what would happen.

Austus swallowed his grapes and washed them down with a goblet of nectar. "Please, eat," he bid his guests. "I know you are all wondering why you are here, and the answer is simple: meet your Leader." He gestured broadly to Kelley.

Bronwe blinked. The Leader? No way! He was too...off his rocker. Then again, she thought, we're all a little unusual, perhaps he'll fit right in.

Kelley looked up from the bag of gunpowder he was attaching to his belt. "What?" See that it was he who was being indicated, he stood and took a step towards Austus. "I beg your pardon...er...sir, but I would like an explanation as to why I was just taken from my Union camp and brought here, upon your whim."

"My whim, you say?" Austus snorted into his goblet. "True enough, but I will not force your head to explode with the monumental details that you cannot possibly understand. Suffice it to say that there is much more going on here then you can fathom, and let us move on to pleasanter matters, shall we?"

That answer did not please Kelley at all, but he knew pursuing further would be a dead end. He sat back down, scowled and tried to hope the answers he was searching for would be held within the conversation.

Austus popped another grape into his mouth before continuing. "Quite simply, you have been gathered from your world to serve a vitally important purpose: you are to lead a band of select people on a dangerous quest."

Kelley sat up, even straighter than before. "What type of 'dangerous quest'? And for what purpose?"

Araphel and Firar, feeling that any conversation on their part would be superfluous, (though Firar was happily surprised that he could understand the Leader now) decided to keep quiet. The elf was secretly pleased that his instinct had not led him astray once more.

"The purpose is not for you to know," Autus said simply. "And the quest will be revealed in time. However, I do have something for you…and for you as well, Keeper." He closed one large hand and then opened it again. Three necklaces lay on his palm. One had a red stone, similar to Bronwe's. The other two held deep amethyst-colored gems.

"And what am I to do with them?" Firar asked, as the two with violet stones were passed to him. "Mychal and I have no need of these language devices."

Austus steepled his fingers together, having handed Kelley his pendant. He looked shrewdly over his fingertips at the Keeper. "Not yet," he said cryptically.

Kelley looked at the necklace and raised an eyebrow. "This is a language device? Looks more like a piece of high-class woman's jewelry."

The demigod sipped from his goblet once more before replying, not the least put off by the captain's slur. "If you choose not to wear it, then it is upon your own head. Though I guarantee things will go much smoother if you do. Keeper," he said, nodding towards Firar, "I have final instructions for you before the second phase of this quest begins. You are at the brink of the end of the beginning. You must seek the Mystic Wood across the sea that lies to the west, for there the Guide shall be found."

Araphel noted the way Firar's eyes widened suddenly, then narrowed just as quickly. The Dwarf knew what Austus was talking about... and it didn't look like he enjoyed the prospect too much.

Bronwe had, until now, remained silent, choosing instead to study her companions. Taking a deep breath, she ventured, "Pardon me, but I have a question."

Austus nodded, swirling the remaining dregs of his drink around in his goblet. "Ask it, Peacekeeper."

She looked directly at the demigod, speaking quietly but clearly, still trying to control the shaking. "You have mentioned a quest. And we all have...titles," she paused and Austus nodded again, "I understand the need for a Warrior, a Scout, a Healer...even a Keeper," she smiled slightly at Firar, "but what am I to do? I am quite certain there is someone else, someone better-fitted for the role." She had no wish to openly call the demigod on his mistake, but she was, quite possibly, the most un-peaceful person she knew.

"Well, quite bluntly," Austus said, setting his cup aside with a thonk, "there was someone else, but they died, unfortunately. And do not worry, Madam Bronwe," he smiled and patted her hand, causing her to jump slightly, "you will have many an opportunity to use your gift. I know it is there...and someday you will see it too. Hopefully someday soon." He purposely failed to mention she was better fitted for the role than his first choice. No reason for her to know that. He turned to all the others. "Last chance for questions, comments...any muttered insults...? Anyone?"

Willing her face to impassivity, she seethed inwardly. Second choice? Again? It was a gift to come in runner-up? She was sick of playing second fiddle. One of these days...

"One question, sir, if you don't mind." Kelley spoke up.

"Ah, I have a taker." Austus leaned forward slightly.

"Why us?" he said, simply.

"Why not?" Austus retorted, just as simply. And then, he seemed to recede before their eyes, and the temple-like structure with him, surrounding the foursome in crushing darkness.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Jonah: Someone bringing bad luck.

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Key's A/N: This was Drew's idea! I guess she figures that we're on a roll with posting, why stop now? Have to say I agree, since this was actually completed quite a while ago…but hey! Real life gets the best of all of us, I'm sure. Happy reading!

Drew's A/N: Tada! Yay us! Now that we've got a posting system in place, we may actually post new chapters more than once a year. Enjoy.

AW's A/N: Someone is actually reading this? You're not dead from boredom? -:jaw drops:- Simply amazing.