I woke all at once, with none of the customary hangover effects. That alone was puzzling, if welcome. The last thing I remembered, I had been visiting the last bar of the evening - my fifth. I had been celebrating getting my job as a legal aide to the firm Jenson, Jenson, and Jenson. Pretty good for a recent law school graduate, a middle rung firm, nothing like dealing in the big leagues, but solidly middle class clients. Small businesses, a few activist groups, and every once in awhile one of the few really sensational cases that hit Ohio like a meteor, with the same frequency.

Cataloguing effects, I realized immediately I wasn't at home. The bed was too soft, and somehow lumpy at the same time. As if the box springs had not been included. Feeling around, I started paying attention to what my eyes were telling me.

I was in an honest to gods four post bed; I didn't recognize the wood grain. I also didn't recognize the hand fondling the wood grain. Or the hand with which I reached out to that first hand, though both were my own. They were both small, delicate, hairless and a pale white.

Last night they were larger, callused, and a healthy nut brown color.

" ...Thefuck?"

my voice had also shrank, from a nice baritone to a light melodious saprano. I looked down but was unable to tell much, swaddled in thick quilts as I was. It actually required a fair amount of effort to pull them off, and I discovered....

"No no no no nonononono!"

I came back to myself in the bathroom, or what was left of it. The place was shocking. The shower was a clawed tub, made perhaps of brass. the counter and medicine cabinet were both made of wood, common cedar lacquered to a glow. there were at least three buckets, slatted wood banded by iron. There were no taps to be seen. There was no toilet. And the mirror....

It was a large piece of what had to be steel, polished somehow to a mirror finish;there were a few places that were a little warped, it was not perfect. Not silver backed glass at all. Mirrors like this hadn't been made for centuries, I was sure. And it was showing a small woman, petite and fine boned. Skin so pale she glowed in the light, hair dark as a ravens wing, and eyes of pale lavender. Young yes, but not a quite a little girl; the breasts were plainly tenting the elaborate dress she wore, and her hips flared outward with an appreciable curve.

She also had pointed ears. When I moved my hair back, I could see them. And of course that acknowledgement was what had set me off in the first place; the room wasn't some strange throwback, the entire house was. And I had pointed ears and breasts. Looking back out, I noticed the hall had no lights; I looked back into the bathroom; it had a candleabra hanging from the ceiling, a crude looking iron affair, all black with large uneven rivets.

The kitchen looked positively barbaric; something out of the 12th century. the counters were heavy oak, There were pots hanging from some sort of framework. The knife rack was far from the machined block I was used to, and the knives were larger. The oven was a large stone fireplace with some sort of iron contraption set off to the side, and a hook on a crude hinge. The fire was set, but not lit, and an absolutely huge cauldron was placed over it. Iron seemed to be the order of the day. The fridge was instead a huge chest...filled with ice, and what appeared to be mutton, cheese and butter.

Oh crap. I felt lighter than air as I ran back to my den. The heavy oaken door was only the start of what was wrong there. My desk was absolutely huge, a dark almost black wood with intricate scrollwork depicting forest scenes. A heavy, crude table held glass bottles, beakers, and tools which I vaguely recognized. the problem was I shouldn't recognize them at all, I
never did take chemistry.

And my pride and joy, my two thousand dollar computer... well if this was some how my house. It seemed to be since the layout was exactly the same, and my house was one of those odd sprawling ranch houses that had had additions. And if it was, my prize computer rig was a large wood bound book, complete with a what looked to be a brass locking plate. Unwillingly I found myself getting close. Yes it was a locking plate, shiny brass. It had a keyhole, inset in a circular plate which held a depression of a hand. The name of the book was "The various mysteries", written in beautiful caligraphy. The picture was of some sort of woman with four arms, holding the elements in each. It was not at all a victim of mass production.

There did not seem to be a single device made after the 16th century... unless it was made by the Amish.

Oh hell, what about outside?

The windows were just little wooden... doors? shutters? With a small bar locking them shut. I picked one in the kitchen to open. It was supposed to show a nice maple tree outside my front lawn, and my attached garage. Instead it showed the same maple tree, right down the the gnarled right hand branch I broke while Climbing it as a child, and some sort of unattached outbuilding. The breeze was welcome at least.

My house was still at the end of the street, as it always was. On the outskirts of town. A changed town, with thatched roof houses made of wood - crude wood planks or logs in some cases, chinked with some substance that thankfully was not mud. Or at least I didnt think it was, it was white. there were no street lights, or cars. No mailboxes, no perfectly manufactured fences. The grass wasn't cut.

The street wasn't even paved. It was beaten earth, a track leading directly from my house. My house was different though; it was cut stone, finely placed. At least if my kitchen wall was any judge. I eased the shutters back till they were almost closed, so I could look out hopefully unobserved.

There was no way this could be a dream; even if my imagination was this good (it wasn't) I'd never felt the texture of cut stone in a dream before. The cool stone block my hand was pressed to was just too... there to ignore. No motion save that caused by the wind outside. No people, no animals. Barely any sound. The sun was barely on it's way up. Had I really woken up so early? If I wasn't completely crazy (a big if) then I'd only slept about 2 hours, tops.

I felt rested enough, without even the hint of mental fog I should have. Or perhaps that was the secret; maybe I had been slipped a hallucinogen while in that last bar. Hmm... but if so, this was one of the best hallucinations I'd heard of. There were no out of place elements. No random BS to make you go "whoa, I be trippin'", it was all very mundane so far... if you were
living in the dark ages or something. Still, that might be the explanation. It would certainly explain why I wasn't hung over, and could feel things. Might even explain the damn dress. Less explainable of course, was how I filled said dress out, or why I could feel bounce on my chest when I moved.

It's a sad day when you have to hope that you've been given a psychodelic with long term drawbacks by unscrupulous persons. With nothing else to do, I decided on making tea. there was a tea kettle hanging from a hook near the unlit fire. It looked like I could just swing it in, to the side of the cauldron. I checked the cabinets; despite their new appareance (as old hand carved things of decent workmanship, showing a garden in bloom across their doors) the tea was exactly where I left it; the second cabinet to the right. In a rough hemp bag, as leaves.

I knew how to brew tea the old time honored way of course, so I took the flint and steel (also hanging on a small hook above the mantle) and struck, lighting the fire. Luckily enough, the kettle sloshed full. I tasted it with a finger. It was water, tasting slightly of metal from it's stay in copper. I had no idea where the water's source was. There was no source for it inside the house, but it stood to reason if I had somehow been whisked away to Amish-land, that there would be an outside well.

So I let the tea steep a bit while I pondered. Everything had it's place, and that place was where I would put it. Or to be more precise, where I had put it's counterpart in my house. The tea was where my tea had been, and while not being lipton it was tea. The icebox, filled with food that I would prefer (I was most thankfully not a vegetarian) was where my refridgerator
used to be. The bed was where my sleep comfort bed used to reside. Now unless someone had played the most elaborate prank in the history of the world, everything I owned had become some sort of dark ages or Medieval era counterpart.

Which does nothing to explain the pointy ears. Or the breasts. Or the unobstructed breeze between my legs. Or the size. Last I heard gender reassignment couldn't take a foot off your height, or give you bones about the same size as a birds. The dress even looked... well good. I could admit to myself that if I were really a chick like this in a strange bizarro Amish world, I would own a dress like this. Dark blue skirt attached to a short sleeved white top with light blue accents. It did not constrict much, and was made of light cotton. Hardly my first choice, but if that was the fashion I could do worse.

Movement pulled my eye. One of my neighbors was cautiously stepping out into the now bright summer morning. It was Phil. Phil was a middle aged accountant that worked for some H R block clone. He was prematurely graying, balding, and beginning to broaden a bit at the waist. Divorced with two kids he was paying for, he was a thoroughly beaten man.

At least, all that was true last night. This morning he was still prematurely gray, and still balding. But he appeared to have lost a good 50 pounds off his middle. He also had biceps bigger than my own had been - maybe bigger than my new thighs.

Pretty good exercise program for a single night.

At the same time, it was obviously Phil; it was still his face. He had come out of what would be Phil's house in bizarro world, even though it had gone from a neo-colonial to a wood planked single story house with a rush roof. Still a bit of a worry wart, he stepped out onto his now unkempt lawn, a large stick in his right hand. It had the look of a weapon.

Well not my first choice on who to see, but beggars can't choose, I suppose.

The door out was just past the living room, which was a room I had till this moment blown by, and I wasn't sure I had the time to catalogue it now, but.... Well the loom stopped me. An honest to the Gods loom, sitting there with bundles of thread and cloth under it. Hell. No. In the other corner was a guitar and dulcimer, the center of the room was taken up by a large
couch formed into a half circle. Of course my television and dvd player were missing. In their place was a fireplace, with some sort of iron box set near it. The box had holes and shapes cut into it.

Enough, no time to explore all this. There was a sword and dagger hanging on a peg next to the door. I left the sword but took the dagger. Opening the door got me immediate attention from a slightly shell shocked neighbor. I rushed out, realized I had forgotten shoes, and rushed back to find a pair of beautifully crafted but painfully small looking leather boots. Phil started walking towards me as I was shoving my feet in them (of course they fit), and so we met nearly in my yard. He towered over me by a good foot or more, and by weight alone could likely make 2 of me.

I struck first.

"Philip, is that you?"

What the... Philip? Where had that come from, I'd always called him Phil before.

"It is lady Muse, do you... ?"

He stopped dead, an almost comical look of confusion on his face. I'd have laughed if I was sure my face didn't mirror it. He tried again.

"Lady Muse?"

It was like he wanted to say my name, but his mouth was forming other words against his will. I gave it a shot.

"That is not my name."

He nodded.

"And yet it is."

He nodded again.

"Your name is Philip, and my name is... "

I led him on, hoping he could connect the dots. He tried.

"N N NN Ne-lady Muse."

He shot clear through confusion to outright alarm, and I was right on his heels.

"I've been your neighbor for years, right?"

He nodded.

"I didn't look like this yesterday?"

He shook his head and added his own two copper.

"Heck, I didn't look like this yesterday; and you... well, you were a guy!"

So if this was a hallucination, it was a shared one.

"You don't think someone spiked our food with shrooms or something, do you?"

He shook his head.

"Too persistent for a drug trip my lady, is everything in your house changed like mine?"

I refused to tell him about the stupid loom. I wasn't making clothes for anyone, screw that. though, he looked like he needed new ones, that homespun wool tunic and pants couldn't be comfy....

With a shake of my head I snapped otu of it.

"Yeah it's all changed, got fireplaces and copper pots and my computer's gone."

He nodded grimly.

"Same here, I wonder how far it spreads? I mean judging by all the houses whatever happened hit the entire street at the very least."

"No."

"No?"

"No... I hear no cars, no trucks, no engines or anything else. No sirens or anything else. Whatever it was hit the entire town. Let's take a walk."

"Um, sure."

I pointed to his stick.

"Expecting trouble?"

"Not sure, seemed like a good idea at the time. you were too I think."

He pointed to my dagger.

"Won't argue the point. I'm kinda hoping that everyone else isn't as big as you. I can already tell you I hate feeling tiny."

He laughed.

"You are pretty runty, but that's the way elves are, right?"

We stared at each other, the unwanted epiphany bonding us both in that moment.

"Well, at least I'm not a vulcan, that'd be just plain disturbing. Come on."

More people were beginning to come out now, hesitant and bewildered but following our example. There were numerous calls and I heard my new name more than once, spoken with at least a touch of awe. what that meant, I had no idea. Yesterday most of these people wouldn't do more than give me the polite brush off. One of my worst fears was realized.

Even the women were larger than I was. Heck, Laura miles, our resident bottle bleach blonde (who was no longer blonde, but instead a brown that could best be described as dirty diaper brown) stood a full head taller than me. She looked roughly the same, still very pretty, but dressed in gray wool like perhaps half the people present. I saw only one person in cotton, and
that was her father, the owner of the village bank. There was a rather disturbing amount of cured leather though; quite the BDSM crowd here.

And of course I was the only one who looked so... drastically unlike themselves.

Each neighbor that came out and joined our walk sank my hopes a little more. I had REALLY hoped I had somehow licked the wrong frog or something. But they all looked of a piece, they were not Amish (there was more than a little swearing) and the entire population of 2500 could not lick the same frog. It just couldn't happen. My mind switched almost unwillingly to something in the water... but I never drank water. Fish poo in water, it's just not safe!

We made our way through the next few streets, now spotting other groups like ours. Everywhere I looked I saw homespun wool, leather, and bewilderment. In many cases outright fear. More than on person, opening their door and spotting my group or another, simply shut it again.

the final streets, in the center of town, were paved with rough cobbled stone inset into the ground to make a roughly smooth surface. On main street, where our few businesses were located, there were even more spectacular changes. Our bed and breakfast, once a rather large rambling 2 story house that rented rooms to people lost enough to find us, was an inn.

It no longer looked like a house at all, being a large 2 story box made of logs. The sign out front depicted a sleeping ogre. There were no words. Next to it, and I mean right next to it, was a stable. It was a complete stable, with horses and mules, as well as a few oxen. The building shouldn't even be there. Yesterday it was... it was... hell, what was it yesterday? Ah, an ice cream shop!

I know I expected that business to fold in a matter of months, but this was kind of a spectacular way to fail.

Several paces beyond the stables was another building; it used to belong to Matt, who had taken over his fathers' repair shop and garage. Matt and his father Brian could always repair anything with a motor, and almost anything that ran on electricity. They never threw anything out, a stance which saw the city try to evict them more than once. Something about beautification and property values.

Their business had become a blacksmiths. Sign depicting an anvil, open barnlike half of the building with a great fire roaring inside, tools hung up along the walls. Three anvils of differing sizes placed next to multiple large buckets. And most importantly perhaps, Brain Lockland stoking the aforementioned fire with a long iron poker. I altered my course.

"Hey Brian!"

He turned to look and waved. Then went back to poking the fire. Finally I got close enough, running to outpace my entourage. I think I summed up the situation rather well.

"Brian, what the hell?!?"

"Good morning Muse. Thought I'd get an early start on the day, things are going to get hectic around here."

"But... but... what the hell?!?"

He got close, towering over me. Darn it, why is everyone so huge? He was already redolent with the smell of sweat, and made Philip look small.

"Simple math, my lady. Yesterday I knew how to repair carburators. Today I know how to shoe a horse or fix a wagon wheel. I do want to know exactly what happened, perhaps even as much as you want to know. But that is a mystery for wiser heads then mine to unravel. so for now, I stoke the fire and prepare the steel and iron."

He raised his voice, turning away from me and back to the fire.

"Don't hesitate to let me know if you find anything out."

"Um, sure."

He felt like the entire problem was too big for him, so he passed? I didn't get it. To be that passive was anethema to me. Perhaps he'd feel like I do if he woke up a shrimp of a woman. Perhaps when I was done trying to deal with this, I'd ask him.

"Does Matt feel the same way?"

he grabbed a chunk of metal and threw it in the fire.

"Matt is not awake; he said something earlier this morning about drinking with some buddy of his, celebrating a new job."

Oops. Of course Matt had been with me; but with my hangover cured. Why wasn't his? Or wasn't it? I felt rested, didn't he?

"I didn't feel like waking him Muse, he'll come to the world in his own time."

"Alright, got it. Try to keep sane, OK?"

"You too."

I moved on, head awhirl. The crowd was milling around behind me, muttering to each other in such a way that I could pick nothing useful out.

"When you lot figure it out, let me know, alright? Until then there is work to be done."

"Sure thing." I called, wondering what he saw that I didn't. I was pretty sure I was as lost as the rest of the people here, including him. The choice to just wake up, know smithing, and decide to live as a blacksmith seemed surreal.

And what did I know? How to play the dulcimer. How to weave cloth. How to cook, but I always knew a bit about that. No now I knew how to cook dark ages style, roasts on spits and similar things. Looking around I could see people as lost as I was... but it was easy to see them as farmers, or herders, or hunters. Heck the local dollar store had been converted to a general
store. But yesterday I knew law. I had studied years to gain knowledge of the law. And today I knew... what?

I didn't know, but I did know that my hard earned education was gone. Precedents, amendments, even tax law - it all drew a blank. Maybe that was one of the secrets of this thing. Brian could work as a smith because he had been given the knowledge; it had been popped into his head like it belonged there, and the rest of us didn't have that, perhaps?

Or maybe it was just that he, like me, thought that there was no way to make sense of this mess, and wanted to leave it to wiser heads? I could relate to that.

I snuck my way along the edge of the crowd, taking note of other changes. Beyond our new general store/market, was a two story home, made of rather handsome brick. A bit crude by the standards I was used to, but much better than anything else this morning, save perhaps my house. I knew Mayor adam Conratty lived there, and today he was up early (for him). He was one of the few that while bigger than I, would not tower over me like a giant.

Small, with sparse brown hair in a ridiculous comb over and rich clothes - a pair of cotton trousers, a silk shirt and dark red leather vest, he cut a rather ludicrous figure. His toupee was missing of course, but as if to replace it he had a sword buckled to his side. He was talking to Ed landrys, our village sheriff, in front of his house.

Ed was very different. Of medium height and build before, his weight had shifted from his middle to his arms. He looked a bit like a tank with legs. He also looked a bit younger than his 40 years. He had on leather pants, with a cotton shirt and ring mail over that. A very large sword hung from his back, and an axe from his belt. I did my best to sneak up.

" ...still, we have to find out just what all this is! The people will expect us to know!"

"I understand that mayor, but we've no phones, no computers, no electricity, hell there was a railroad line that cut through here yesterday, and it's gone. My car was a white horse this morning, no cb on that. We'll have to walk anywhere, and see if we can get to a big city, find out what they know."

"And that through what appears to be wilderness now. Oh, hello lady Muse. Interesting day, isn't it?"

Well since they saw me I edged closer. The look in the mayor's eye wasn't exactly filling me with confidence though. It was as if he were setting me up for something.

"Interesting is an understatment gentlemen. I see the same phenomenon hit here. It hit the entire town?"

Ed answered.

"It did, everything from your street to the rail line, which is now a tannery. The stench is... well it's bad."

"I can imagine."

I'd been to a tannery before. I wondered for a moment why these two were so chatty with me, since I was one of the citizenry they wouldn't want to panic, but shelved that in favor of voicing the fear we all had.

"So chances are, this isn't just some local thing. The train tracks disappearing and trees here suggest that this may have hit all over."

Yesterday, fields were pretty much all that were around this village for miles. Now today, while there were still a few fields, great old growth trees had sprang up over night, and to the east and west of us were actual forests.

"It might be. but it could be that just our stretch was hit by this... whatever it was. The tracks, and roads and such could start back up just a few miles down the road. We will need to find out."

"But which way?"

"Best direction would be north, but I checked. Our road north is gone. So whoever we send should probably go east, then try to head north. Best choice to go would be Toledo, bound to have some answers there."

I had to ask.

"Well can't we just go overland to the north? Even without a road it can't be that bad."

Ed looked at me grimly.

"Roads, even unpaved ones, denote civilization. Going just straight north sounds good, but we don't know what else is out there. It could be nothing is. but it could be something is. It could even be that whatever did this to us, is."

"I see your point. I think a town meeting needs to be called, and this plan needs to be worked out by everyone. See you two a bit later."

I'd spotted something else down the distance, in what could only be our new village green, in the center of town where the park once stood. An old fashioned well, with buckets and all. Some of the women were drawing water and talking next to it. I only recognized the mayors wife, Sylvia Conratty.

She was a gossip and a harpy.

When I was a child, before I put away childish things, I used to skate. One year my friends and I made a plywood half-pipe. having no where else to put it, we spent our own money to buy the materials and made it in the park. Thanks to my dad, we had the city's permission and everything.

It was only up a month before Sylvia petitioned to have the 'eyesore' demolished. She didn't stop until it was. It took a month, but she managed. A terrible end to a wonderful summer spent catching air. That was a decade ago. That decade had not been kind to her; she had lost much of her trophy wife looks. Her blonde hair was now the color of used dishwater, her face sagging.

You could say I was a bit bitter.

She was a study of contrasts this morning. On the one hand, she was obviously miserable to be doing any sort of work herself, let alone something so domestic as drawing water. As I approached she drank half of it and sent the bucket down again. On the other hand, she seemed to be in her gossipy element, holding court among her own neighbors.

" ...And I think that... oh, lady Muse. Good morning."

Well, this did not bode well.

"A good morning of sorts. If I may?"

I gestured at the well, and she moved back.

"Of course! Please, help yourself."

I took over, drawing the bucket up.

"So, you were saying?"

"Oh, we were just discussing how all this could be possible."

Finally the bucket reached the top and I used my hands to cup the water and drink. The good Sylvia, with poor grace, took the rest into her own bucket almost immediately. No doubt already plotting to boil it to remove my germs.

"By all means continue. You had a culprit in mind?"

"Well I would almost think that it would have to be...."

"AAAHHHHHHH HELP ME!"

I headed to the sound of the screams without further ado. whatever she thought was probably wrong, and stupid in ways I didn't want to contemplate. The scream had come from the north, on the outskirts of town. Kind of ironic, in a way.

I reached the end of the street just as ED passed me; with a long effortless stride he made it look easy. Vigo Iverson had always been a farmer, he owned and worked a good 500 acres yesterday. I was willing to bet that today he cultivated less. He ran past me in his underwear, not seeing me or anyone else. After taking a look toward the end of town, I didn't blame him at
all.

...was that a dinosaur?

Vigo's house had always been a lavish thing before, a three story rambling place just past the village limits. I couldn't really tell how well made it was anymore because of the two legged lizard currently sitting on it. Luckily Vigo was a widower whose children had long since moved away, so we could be reasonably sure no one had been hurt, yet.

And yet, dinosaur. Two legged, short stubby arms, a good 15 feet tall if it was an inch. and the teeth, big as knives of course. The name learned in childhood, when most kids learn them came swimming into focus: Tyrannosaurus Rex. The king of tyrants, or something. It was a brown that might have blended into the forest if it weren't so big, with a tough looking hide and large three toed feet tipped in claws as long as my arm.

And of course Ed goes ahead and charges the darn thing with a war cry. Takes a swipe at the toe and his sword bounces off. Amazingly, Ed dodges the lunge by that huge head, rolling just out of the way. I looked between this melee, and my dagger. Ed was alone. Everyone else who had come to gawk was behind me, or busy following Vigo. Distantly I heard doors slam.

I had to do something... but what could I do? The answer came from the mouths of idiots.

I spotted Melvin entering stage left. Now Melvin was a kid, years younger than I was. He was also a huge nerd. For some reason during my college years, when I was still frequenting the lone comic shop in our area (the Dragon's Hoard, next town over) he had bonded to me like a kicked puppy. For years he had engaged in a soft form of stalking, trying to get me involved
in his role playing groups and live action activities. Of course I said no, that crap gave me the hives.

So I knew when I saw him coming out in a rough brown woolen robe, rushing past me towards the possible dinosaur unarmed, that it would be good. Good in the most bad, awful way.

Melvin stopped 30 feet away from the death match, where a bloodied Ed had his blade up between him and the now confused lizard. He began making throwing motions with his right hand and screaming.

"Lightning bolt! Lightning bolt! Lightning bolt!"

Oh my gods... was he trying to live action the thing to death?

The dinosaur turned from him to Ed and back again, fixing them both with it's beady eyes. No doubt trying to decide who to eat first. Another look at Ed's sword decided it; obviously Ed was tougher to digest. With a bellow it started towards Melvin. And of course that's when it happened.

I could see the texture of the creature's skin, minute pebbles. I could see Melvin pale and scream louder, with more raw panic. The acidic stench of urine hit my nose like a flood.

And the lightning bolt formed in my mind, a structure somehow conforming to atmospheric dynamics and the laws of physics. Both things I only barely understood. But I knew... I KNEW that beyond a shadow of any doubt, that the lightning bolt in my mind was real and would strike the dinosaur.

That it would in fact kill the dinosaur.

For a millisecond or a year, that image held in my mind. Unspent potential digging like a splinter in my core. Then when I could stand it no longer, I released it.

And a real honest to gods lightning bolt flew from my outstretched hand and struck the dinosaur in the face. I slitted my sensitive eyes against the discharge, but managed to see the poor creatures eyes cross before it fell over like a cow receiving a bolt in the head at a slaughterhouse. Also like the cow, it did not move. Ed walked over and plunged his huge sword into a handy eye. The thing didn't even twitch.

"That was awesome! That was so amazing! And you're an elf hottie now, that's so cool! Teach me how to do that!"

Melvin danced around me, oblivious to his own close call. He had been a bit too close to the discharge - he now sported an afro that would do a 70's exploitation film proud. The sour stench of his urine completed the image, as he danced around in soiled robes.

I couldn't help myself. I laughed.

(tbc)

I quickly noticed my laughter had a rather manic edge to it that I did not like at all, so I stopped.

"Melvin, go take a bath. Now, please."

Melvin, who had still been dancing in victory, stopped with a suddenly sheepish expression.

"Sorry."

Despite myself, I softened. The kid brought out the worst in me, really.

"It's fine, OK? It's fine. Just... go bathe. you stink a bit."

He nodded and ran back inside his own home. For a brief moment I wondered where his parents were, then dismissed the thought in favor of more immediate concerns. At least now I knew why they were all calling me a lady, though the Muse thing still made no sense.

Made perfect sense to be ultra polite to someone who could dump a lightning bolt on your head. And the term lady here was obviously meant as a salve to the ego. I turned to Ed, who was still poking the dinosaur with his sword.

"It's dead you know, you made very sure."

He nodded with some puzzlement still evident.

"Indeed, though I've no doubt your spell was the true culprit behind the beast's demise. I was simply wondering how good an armor the hide would make. And also whether or not the beast is good to eat."

He must have seen something in my expression.

"What my lady? We don't want it going to waste, do we?"

No, I guess we can't have that. Besides, how would we bury the thing?

"I guess not... just check it for parasites before you go cooking it. Not fond of eating worms."

"A good point. alright you men, get some ropes! We'll drag this thing out of town and cook it there!"

Shudder. Was I the only one that had sanity left? Well judging by the amount of foot dragging as Ed's 'help' threw ropes around the carcass and oxen were brought and harnessed into place, I might not be. though I guess eating it is a better option than burying all of it. Ed only had one deputy, hmm....

"Mayor Conratty?"

Oddly enough for all the of the crowd's low grade roar, the minute I spoke up with a polite tone and only a bit more force than normal, I was heard immediately. The crowd had upon my approach, stifled itself almost completely. No doubt I would be fully ostrasized by nightfall. I shook my head - there were more important things to worry about than my social life.

"Yes lady Muse, what is it?"

"Mayor, Ed only has one deputy."

"Yes, Karl. a bright young lad as I recall, fresh out of college...."

"Yes Mayor, but maybe we need to help them both. I think we should set a watch."

He cocked his head, looking like nothing so much as a turkey in that moment - confused and flightless, with little recourse save waddling and clucking. Or whatever sound turkeys actually make.

"A watch?"

"Yes, a watch. People watching the woods and plains from the outskirts of town to make sure that another predator can't sneak up and attack our friends and neighbors without timely response from us. As it stands, we are nearly defenseless."

The change from bird to calculating politician was immediate and remarkable.

"An excellent suggestion! Philip, find Karl, tell him to pick some men! Good stout men! We can watch at the corners...."

I left the planning session without a word; I had to find Vigo. He wasn't anywhere in the crowd, but well beyond it at the well, back to the stones that made it. Hunched and miserable, unless I missed my guess.

"Vigo."

"N-lady Muse."

"Don't worry, the house isn't as bad as it looks. I think only one room is affected, and maybe the supports for the upper story where the head came in."

"Thank goodness for that - what was it lady Muse?"

Well confusion was a better sight than shell shock, and it seemed to be the order of the day anyway.

"A kind of dinosaur. A T-Rex I think. Remember 'Jurassic Park'?"

"but... how did it get here? I mean one minute I'm looking for my entertainment center, the next there is a face through it. I didn't even the thing come up, though I wasn't really listening for it. I mean, who expects to be attacked by a dinosaur?"

"Well safe to say not a soul worried about it before today. Was there anyone else at home?"

He looked at me oddly for a moment.

"I live alone lady Muse, you know that."

So certain circumstances didn't seem to change. Vigo seemed a small sample to draw from, but he was merely the last. I'd been noting wedding rings, who left and entered certain houses, and oft stolen glances between certain participants. I now felt safe in assuming that marriages, trysts, and any other arrangements survived whatever had happened this morning. Which meant that Vigo's surviving relatives should be states away, and beyond any immediate help we could give or receive.

But you can't take such things for granted when you wake up a wisp of a girl. I was suffering from a severe lack of information, but I was sure of one thing. There were others like me out there, rare as a transformation like mine seemed to
be.

Hopefully there were no worse.

For all I knew, that dinosaur was a dog yesterday. Hey wait, that was a good thought! Vigo had two german shepherds yesterday. Where were they now?

"Vigo, where are your dogs?"

"I don't know, they used to be inside with me, but they lit out when the dinosaur hit the house. Didn't even try to protect me, the cowards."

He dunked the well bucket over his face messily while I pondered. I couldn't blame the dogs, I don't think I'd protect him from dinosaurs either. But....

"Did the dogs sense anything?"

"Yeah they were barking and causing a fuss; that's why I looked out the window in the first place."

"Excellent; do me a favor?"

He turned to me, asking the question with his eyes before his mouth cracked open.

"What do you need, my lady?"

"Go find Karl, and tell him the watch needs dogs. At least 2 dogs with good senses per watch position set."

"Oh, good idea lady Muse! I'll go find him right now!"

And since you aren't really hurt, it'll keep you busy and out of the way. Not to mention less depressed because you're actually doing something pro-active. I stole a glance at Sylvia. Too bad I couldn't do that with everyone. suddenly there was too much noise. Just too many people, talking non stop about things they had no way of knowing about. I couldn't take one
more stupid theory about what had happened.

As before, none noticed me leaving; apparently I could be quiet when I wanted to be. Besides, I couldn't quite shake the idea that there were more clues back at my new/old house. The trip back took almost no time at all; even with the dress trying it's best to trip me, I could manage a respectable speed.

The outbuilding I had passed up earlier was the place to be now; it was a stable. No animals of any kind inside, sweet fresh hay on the stall floors and small tools designed to punch leather placed neatly in order on a large counter. Under that a few well made drawers held other tools of unfamiliar purpose, as well as a few items I understood. Like the curry brushes for example, obviously for horses. I didn't own any though, something I found odd.

I'd seen a few horses already here and there, they had seemed to take the place of cars. I had a car last night. but no horse or any other beast of burden today. So obviously this stable was meant for others. no need for fresh hay in a stable where the owner had no animals, unless said owner expected guests. There were no fences, so I did not own a pasture. the water trough was full, the water clear. Old rain water would be brackish, I'd think.

Though then again, the water may have just been poofed there like the rest of bizarro Amish-world. However out back, behind the stable was another well. This one was much smaller than the town well, with only room for one bucket at a time. The stone was white; I did not recognize it. It also didnt appear to be placed by any mason, instead appearing to have somehow raised
itself from the earth organically.

Evidence of magic perhaps? Something other than calling down destructive forces? But whose hand, mine or anothers?

Just beyond the well was an irrigated garden; no pictures or words, and too early in the season for me to find out what if anything was planted there by looking at the plants themselves. Not that I was an expert in plants. Just beyond the rather large garden were trees, apple and cherry. I knew both of those because in my childhood I had loved both fruits, and researched them with the idea of convincing my mother to plant a tree of each for pies and the like. Turned out that I couldn't even get her to give the planting idea a first thought, let alone a second. Trees of our own could not compete with store bought, it seemed.

After dad died, all thoughts of trees withered; I was a bit busy ensuring we had money to eat at all. But here they were, just as I had envisioned them so many years before. An apple to the left, and a good 60-70 feet away a cherry tree on the right. Both offering shade and little else at the moment, but both very welcome and exactly where I would have planted them. Both
about 8 to 10 years old.

The dark musty rabbit hole yawned before me for a moment; only it was a pitch black inky stretch with a sulfurous smell and unspeakable noises.

"N-Muse! You here?"

And just like that I was back. A little disoriented, I stumbled back towards the house. I knew who was calling me the very instant I heard the voice. It had changed slightly, into a deeper tenor than I strictly remembered last night, but I could still recognize it easily somehow. I could only hope the same thing were true for him. It was of course my drinking buddy. Matt Lockland, son of Brian and now default apprentice smith.

"Here Matt!"

I turned the corner of my new stable to find him approaching it. Tall (more tall than I was, but I was growing to expect that from everyone) with hair a sandy sort of brown and somewhat large liquid blue eyes, he was not quite as impressive as his father was muscle wise, but it was obvious he wasn't too far from it. Yesterday he was all of 5 foot 4 and maybe 150 soaking wet.

It looked good on him. Were my eyes as wide as his?

"So I sort of knew when I woke up you'd be different, but wow... actually seeing the difference is something else."

"Wait, you did? You knew I was different?"

I caught his arm and dragged him back towards the house, but not before he caught a glimpse of the trees. His eyes widened again, realizing the significance immediately. I just kept tugging, and soon enough he answered me.

"Well not exactly, but when dad mentioned a 'Lady Muse' I knew he meant you, and it sort of came out of nowhere. What's going on?"

I snorted - delicately. I don't think I was allowed to sound vulgar in any way anymore. And I don't know where that idea came from. Maybe I'd try later.

"Hmm... interesting, I have no such knowledge regarding any of you. And as for what's going on, your guess is as good as mine. Our world went to hell somehow, all I know."

Perhaps the knowledge regarding people being different only occured when the people you knew were, well, very different? I mean everyone else in town was human. The only certain thing was my list of questions today had just gotten beyond any sane mental length... I'd need to write them all down or something.

I had to drag Matt to a seat in the kitchen, and plunk him down in it. I started making tea for us for something to do.

"Wow, I didn't really want to look at much before I got here, but your kitchen kinda brings it all home, no pun intended."

"You didn't even look at your room? Bet that old Megadeath poster is something really funny today."

"Ugh, don't remind me, I saw it! It was a poster of the God of smithing."

Interesting....

"Oh? Do tell."

"Why? You think it might be relevant?"

I gave him his tea before answering.

"I think it all is. You woke up today a smith's apprentice, with a poster of the God of smiths hanging above your head. what did it say?"

"Vulcan bless our works. It mostly had pictures of a huge guy I assumed to be Vulcan doing forge things."

"Vulcan, huh?"

Wasn't that a roman name for the god of the forge?

"So you didn't have anything like that?"

I snapped back from ponderingsville. Only a year ago, I had posters of bands and the like still present throughout my own animal den. However I took them down in favor of some rather bland landscape prints that, I realized oddly enough, had not changed at all. I remembered seeing them where they had hung in my old house, crude nails rather than little hooks holding them up now, no doubt.

"No, my wall coverings are unchanged, at least to a casual eye. I'm willing to bet they are real paintings as opposed to reprints now. I doubt Guttenburg set up shop in this reality, at least not yet."

"Truer words were never spoken. Looked at your books yet?"

Dread found my core, and twisted it.

"No, only the one that replaced my computer. I take it you have?"

"Well I only own a few really, not the reader you are... and they are right next to my bed, so I couldn't help but see them. I had a few fantasy books, they seem to be the same, though I have a feeling we'd better read them to make sure. My non fiction has changed though. History books seem absolutely fine, but everything else non fiction is just weird. My chevy engine manual for example is now a treatise on how hot flames need to be to correct alloy certain metals, and how to stoke them."

"Ack... Now I don't even want to look. All those books I had."

I had almost no fiction in my mini library. Over half my books were books on laws around the world, or history. The other half were trash that I'd been meaning to get rid of for years. Now it might be interesting to see what those had become... or it might not. After all, Matt's fantasy books seemed unchanged. Hmm, a thought....

"What about the sci fi?"

He shook his head ruefully and drained his tea.

"Those, are a total loss. Nothing survived. Anything with guns, planes, space ships, any of it without being pure history is just gone. I don't know, maybe someone else's books survived, but mine didn't. And I loved me some Battlestar Gallactica books too."

I could sympathyze. If whatever happened were (Gods forbid) permanent, entire generations of people wouldn't know the works of Aasimov, or Bradbury for examples. Heck no guns meant even King would be gone!

I do think we could all live without Clancy, or Patterson however.

"Ok, I want to see your computer book."

My what? Why did dread clutch me again?

"My what?"

"The book your computer became. My computer became a sort of steam engine. Yours became a book. Something tells me there is a weird connection there."

"Really? A steam engine? What does it do?"

I led the way down the hall, leaving the kitchen fire low.

"Heats water currently; Not sure it works right. It's supposed to run a water pump. I didn't really look to hard at it, it wasn't important."

The unspoken thought was there here, and by default I, was important enough to drop everything. I couldn't really fault him for that; aside from my own ego, it was pretty obvious that to solve this thing we would all have to look for the out of place elements. I fit that bill.

I led the way into the den with a flourish.

"Here we are, that's it on the desk."

I took a look at some of the other titles I'd neglected this morning. History, history, periodical... oh hello. My trash might have just become something interesting.

"Got the key for this?"

I resolved to look at the new stuff later.

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"Hmm... I'd guess... around your neck."

I arched an eyebrow. He held his arms out as if I'd attack him.

"Hey, just a guess. Looks like a real old book, full of forbidden knowledge; where else would you keep it?"

I shrugged and fished about my neck, finding a very fine chain there. I pulled it up and lo and behold, a small silver or silver plated key. Very suspicious. I should have felt it before, if only by where it was resting.

"wow, you're good. That is, if this isn't a key to the bathroom or something."

"Do you even have a bathroom? We only have an outhouse, and it stinks."

I shook my head.

"Not sure what I've got. Didn't see an outhouse, but the bathroom has no toilet."

It took some time to work the chain around to see the clasp, it kept wanting to get caught in my ridiculous hair. But in no time I was staring at a simple clasp, very easy for my fingers to work. Larger fingers might have an issue with it though. the key fit smartly in the lock and turned easily with a loud click.

And as I opened the cover, sparkly dust took flight from the book, catching the dim light in a blinding rainbow effect. I blinked my eyes clear and met Matt's, doing the same.

"Not. One. Word."

"but, but... it's fairie dust!"

My small hands were around his large collar, pulling me up to his eye level, since I couldn't pull him down.

"One more word and it's a toad's life for you."

I had no idea how to make good my threat, but I'd find a way!

"Alright, alright your highness, don't get upset."

A glimpse of something... then it was gone. I yelled to cover the disquiet of those casual words.

"Don't call me that, jerk! This is serious. I am not some faerie princess, and if you don't drop it, you will be."

At that the book flipped pages violently while our eyes widened, coming to rest on the page: 'The spirit of matter and how it may be properly shaped by the strong mind'. I could feel my predatory grin split my face. Matt on the other hand, looked lost.

"What's it say?"

"You can't read it?"

He shook his head.

"That's some sort of elven, I can't read it. Though it makes sense that you're bilingual."

I frowned momentarily, then grinned again.

"The book decided to leap to the page regarding polymorphs. I don't think it likes your taunts."

Matt took a step back despite himself.

"OK OK I got it, no more teasing. Just don't let it magic me."

Heh.

"I don't think it can on it's own, it's merely telling me how. It's kind of interesting in it's way...."

Matt reached over me and shut the book in a hurry; I looked up at him, a bit confused. He shrugged but I could tell he was uneasy.

"Study time later, we both know you can do magic. What else should we be looking for?"

I sat down in my overstuffed chair, placing my feet on a footrest in conveniant reach with the ease of familiarity.

"Not sure; I think some of the answers are in homes like ours. like the books, and how our personal stuff has transformed, but I think the big answer of why is out there, in the worrld at large."

Matt seemed less than impressed with my sweeping gesture.

"Probably right, but where? How do we narrow down the search?"

"same way your basic scientist does when confronting a problem; trial and error. It's already big enough to warrant attention from the world, even if it's only affected us. And using the books as evidence, I don't think it has, I think it's a much larger phenomenon. The books suggest as much. If it's larger, even world affecting, then the entire world will be trying to
find a solution. From the best minds down to the mayor Conratty's of the world."

He pulled up a chair. I found myself wanting more tea, but I was comfortable. Sigh.

"So what do you think we should do?"

"What we will end up doing; just about anyone will be able to see that we won't get any answers at all if we sit pat here. We will need to mount an expedition past the town. The mayor and sheriff were already discussing one this morning in fact. It'll be filled with people that can be trusted, but who aren't vital to the performance of the town itself. To be honest, you might
be considered yourself. Though I'm not sure who will go or not. If there are more of those dinosaurs, then the list of people I'd trust to be able to survive out there is small."

"Good point. And I doubt I'd be considered for such a thing, my family is not on good terms with the Conrattys."

My mouth and the door opened at the same time. I shot up, disturbing my stool as a floating tea service came into view. Matt was somehow already behind me, a dagger out and pointed at the vague humanoid outline that could barely be made out in the dim light. a sort of phantom butler... ?

It served us tea, righted the stool, and left. I turned to Matt, took in his dagger... and laughed. Perhaps a touch of this morning's hysteria in it, but good cleansing laughter. Matt looked stubbornly angry for a moment, then laughed a bit himself.

"Sorry, and before you ask, no I didn't plan that. I guess I need to watch my stray thoughts around this pile of rocks. I wanted more tea."

"That was an honest to goodness phantom servant wasn't it? Just like in...."

I cut him off, laughter forgotten.

"Yes, just like in the game."

He leaned back in his chair.

"You know, for a tiny hot elf chick, you sure can make with the fear."

"Sorry."

"It's OK, I know where you're coming from. I bet they are loving this bullcrap though. I'd just as soon have a car."

Anger and hatred were buried just as quickly as they had surfaced, hopefully never to return. Though I knew better; we all have darkness and stupidity inside us. The trick is not to let it rule.

"Now see that's what I'm talking about; when you smile you really show a person what the phrase 'light up a room' means."

Was he hitting on me?!?

"And when you blush you look especially cute."

He was, the rat - bastard!

"Out out out! I want some peace now, need to think without your constant teasing!"

He managed to look contrite, but I was pretty sure he was faking. I started shoving him out the den.

"Alright, sorry. I know, I'm going. It's a way to cope, you know? I'm pretty freaked out by all this. And you well, despite how you look, you're you. Normal.

And safe, you know he's thinking I'm safe to mess with. Wow, what could I say to that?

"I get it Matt, and I'd love to have you stay and chat all day, but I need some alone time to think."

"Yeah I get it. You won't stop thinking about it, and won't let the problem or weirdness or whatever rest unresolved. It's your nature, you can't let a mystery stand. Be back later and lock your door. You can never tell what people will do in a crisis."

I nodded as he strode out.

"Sound advice, see you later."

He waited till he heard my bolt slam home, then walked off, whistling. the street was empty except for him, but I didn't see any strange creatures lurking. Either there was nothing else or the watch was working. Then again, I'd heard no alarm, and I was out of shout range of the other parts of town.

Whoops, can't think of everything. It was probably fine. Now for the more important thing. I thought really hard about unexplored areas of my house. I was praying I didn't go low tech enough for a chamberpot, cause that is just gross. I'll reinvent the toilet if I have to! though... how DID a toilet work? something about a gasket flooding water down into a bowl when opened, and releasing a valve at the same time. I think.

Judging from Matt's own knowledge loss, I doubt even a plumber knows how a toilet works today. Depressing thought.

My thoughts of toiletry did have an effect. They summoned the phantom butler, who gestured me to follow him/her/it. that's it, I'm naming the thing. I mean it's a construct, not even a ghost. I don't remember casting the spell for it. I also don't remember seeing it this morning, which is a mild issue. Perhaps my disorganized thoughts and anything but calm mind had affected
it? It did seem summoned by my thoughts.

At any rate, it led me to what I had taken to be a hall closet my first time through. Perhaps because originally it had been a hall closet, next to the bathroom (which of course it still was). Opening it I recieved a mild shock. A small room with a porcelain bench and opposite, a porcelain sink. the bench of course, had a hole cut or shaped out of it in the center, and the sink was filled with water. There were no taps or pipe work anywhere I could see.

So an indoor outhouse? That sounds even worse than a chamber pot. Why didn't it stink? Oh well; I shut the door on the servant who thankfully hadn't followed me inside, and settled in. I had to go of course, and that was one of the reasons I wanted Matt out of the house. Knowing he was lurking with me trying to find a bathroom would have been... weird.

And of course porcelain is cold. Very cold, even on warm days it seems. But finally I got done and started to stand up, when the first of two rather immediate oddities struck me... quite literally. The first being water all over my new parts, as if just that region was inundated in sweetly scented (rose hips?) water. As I goggled and stood up to see where it was coming from, just like that I was dried. As if those same areas and only those, had been subjected to a blow dryer.

But there had been no heat, it was more as if the water was just encouraged to go elsewhere, with no clingy moisture left behind. Looking down I had caught a glimpse of a faint blue glow and a sighing gurgle acosted my ears at the same time. Of the urine or of any water, there was no sign; I couldn't see all the way down into the bench, but somehow I knew nothing was there
save maybe a bit of dust.

Hmm, magic toilet. Beats an outhouse any day of the week. Feeling fresh and clean I turned to the sink. There was lye soap next to the sink bowl and I grabbed it, dipped my hands into the water and lathered up. Technically I hadn't touched any - sensitive areas, but it never hurt to be clean, right? Besides, the sink is magical too, I just know it. They are companion
pieces after all.

I was right, after washing my hands I removed them from the water, and as soon as they were past six inches they were dry. Just like that, and even looking I hadn't seen how it was done. Just one moment wet, and the next dry. The soapy water was also just as suddenly markedly less soapy. As clean as if it had just been placed in the basin, in fact.

Downright handy. Now if I just knew how it was done. Or maybe I did, and needed to remember? Ugh, my head hurts just thinking of it all, and of course aspirin is a distant memory. Silly body needs satisfied for the moment, I went back to the den, grabbed my magic book and dragged it into the kitchen. Stupid thing was large and heavy. I brewed tea and opened it to the
first page:

"To my darling Muse on her naming day; may this enchanted book of profundities serve you well wherever you may roam. Love, father."

Well that was odd, my dad was the religious type. He'd have burned the new me at the stake. Second page:

'on the nature and spirit of fire.'

That's better.

(tbc)

There was a good chance someone wanted to speak to me. The massive incessent pounding on my door was a decent hint. That was a real shame, cause I'd been reading the most interesting things.

"Muse! Come on out! Sheesh, I know you're in there!"

Like, apparently fire's nature is to burn and purify, and the only reason it is seen as a destructive force is it's misuse or imbalance. That's science now, it seems. I shook my head in misery; this did no wonders for my rising headache. Letting Matt back in was a great distraction, so I did. Of course as I turned from the door, he dragged me out of it.

"Come on, barbeque time!"

Huh? taking another look as I was dragged, I realized it was sunset. The sun seemed to be swimming in an ocean of flames. I'd been in that damnable book for some time. Aside from the sun setting, there was another glow in the center of town. This one seemed to be surrounded by rather brazen noise. Right, roast dinosaur.

"So, you were reading your magic book, weren't you?"

I looked up at Matt; much to my annoyance he hadn't let go of my captured arm yet.

"You know me too well. Of course I was. Specifically, the chapter on fire as an elemental force."

"Good; you need a break before you tac-nuke us by accident. Here, take this, you'll need it."

He handed me a small pouch of tooled leather I recognized as hanging on a peg inside my kitchen; when had he grabbed that? I snuck a peek inside to find a delicate polished wooden fork and a small but sharp looking knife. Ahh, personal cutlery.

"Oh, if I tac-nuke you, it won't be an accident, I assure you. I'm coming, mind letting go of my arm?"

I could just barely make out his blush as he let go; you'd think I just told him I had leprosy, it happened so fast. Luckily, I had the perfect awkward moment smoothing comment. I picked up the pace to use it.

"Come on, if we don't hurry, the drum sticks will be gone!"

He stared at me like I had grown a second head for a moment. Well I thought it was funny anyway. Of course they were nowhere near out, the legs were huge. There were large tables showing the nicks and scars of heavy use set at the edge of the bonfire, filled with crude grey clay plates, pots, and bowls of herbs and condiments... well such condiments as we had. Of course we had no ketchup.

"You sure you wouldn't rather have the stuff over there?"

I looked to where Matt was pointing. It was a table filled with vegetables, with a few tubers and fruits. Potatoes, apples, some kind of berry I didn't recognize offhand (but looked vaguely like a blackberry) wild onions... someone had been busy. I got the inference though, Matt was either making a joke or insulting me outright. After all wussy elves are vegetarians, aren't they? They couldn't possibly eat meat. Pointedly I grabbed one of the proferred plates and tore into the well roasted hunk of leg placed on it. (Ok, so I actually used the knife and fork I had in my small pouch; I'm not a barbarian!)

Matt pulled out his own pouch; maybe all the good citizens had them. Then again Phil was eating with his hands... messily, so maybe not. The meat itself was delicious; though oddly enough it did not taste like chicken. After all, weren't birds descended from dinosaurs? Instead it was a richer, heavier flavor of deer... sort of. The vegetables looked lonely, so I snuck a few when Matt turned his back.

The scene reminded me of a sort of outdoor viking feast, with lots of wine (the contents of those malformed clay jugs) and loud merriment; I began to wonder if the noise would draw predators. Then again, wouldn't too much noise and fire drive them away? I needed to bone up on my hunting skills. Of course many of the predators I was worried about didn't exist yesterday.

"So, lady Muse."

I refocused.

"Mayor Conratty."

He had grease smeared all over his face. How did he manage that with utensils?

"We have decided on the party to send to Toledo."

A hint of unease, a flare of danger.

"The village council decided on Karl to lead the expedition, and Phil Keene, Thomas Caine, Randolf Wills, Matt Lockland, Pastor Collins... and you."

No. No no no no no no no!

"Wait, what?"

"We need you to go. You handled that dragon thing with ease... "

"Dinosaur."

" ...Whatever. You handled it. If our expedition gets attacked by something like that, they need you there to help them."

"but you guys will need me here!"

I'm not doing the whole party sent into the woods thing! They can just sue me!

He started using his greasy hands to tick of points; seriously, did he bathe in the stuff before breaking out the silverware?

"There are more of us here than are going; and so far your insights have been useful. The council and I believe you will be most useful in uncovering what is going on. Plus we have Frank."

"Frank?"

"Frank Cipro, know him?"

I knew him, a smarmy forty plus guy. Five foot six inches, weighing about 200 pounds. A soft pockmarked face over a flabby body. Always working on his next scam. Last week if I remember right, it was penis enlargement devices sold over the internet.

"Yeah I know him."

"Well he can do magic too! So we won't be defenseless with you gone."

I begged to differ.

"I must confess I am a bit curious. Excuse me a moment."

I went to go find Frank; I didn't have to go far. He was right at the edge of the firelight, staring at me with an intensity and expression I felt was normally reserved for the victims of pedophiles and serial killers.

"Frank."

"Yes lady Muse? Enjoying the party?"

Well, I was.

"The mayor tells me you can use magic too?"

"Yes lady Muse, I displayed a few tricks for the council. I wanted them to know that there was more than one wizard in town."

Hmmph, shows what he knows. I'm a sorceress. Wait, did I just think that? No, no I most certainly did not.

"I see, that's great news, and puts my mind at ease. Tell me please, how would you have handled this beast?"

I speared a bite of leg from my plate to remove all doubt about what I could mean. His rather soft goatish face morphed into an expression I'd seen on a few people before, he was going to be evasive. The eyes loking up and left for brief stints, the pulling away, further from the fire and me... he was going to lie or tell a half truth.

"I'd have used 'Arrow of Acid'; it's a spell that melts a target."

So a half truth then. I've no doubt he'd have used it, it was likely his strongest spell. For him to even mention using it, it would have to be the only thing he'd have a chance of taking down a T-rex with. The spell though had several problems. It was
thrown, for one. While my lightning was cast without fail on any target I could see, the Arrow of Acid was thrown like a rock, which meant you could miss. You could even hit someone else in the middle of a crowded melee. The second problem is, even if it could kill a dinosaur (which is doubtful; perhaps a 50/50 chance) the acid takes time to work. Which meant that you'd have a burning, sizzling, pissed off dinosaur attacking people in the meantime. Possibly for minutes before dying.

It was absolutely the wrong spell to use, and he knew it. The only reason anyone would use it is if they had no other spell capable of doing anything of consequence. One look at my face and he knew that I knew it too.

"I am aware of that spell. Thank you for answering me."

I turned to go back, but his next question stopped me.

"Lady Muse, what is your strongest spell?"

Hah. I should have known it'd come to this. The usual way... well the usual polite way for one caster to gauge the strength of another. Most spellcasters answered such questions, with a lie if nothing else. How very silly, to compare spells known and assume that it was strength. Of course the real question that most meant to ask was: 'What is your strongest destructive spell?' How very human.

"Well, I know the elements of fire and lightning, I know water and earth. But in all probability... "

I turned to him, focused for a eternal moment, and conjured a rose from nothing.

" ...pure creation is my strongest spell."

I knew one thing, it sure took alot out of me. I could barely make it back to my seat and drink before slumping. I would be darned if I let that hack see me sweat though. I handed the rose to mayor Conratty.

"Alright, he's not as good as me, but he'll do."

For you guys at any rate; I don't stay where I'm not wanted, and this is the mayor and council working together to rid the village of undesirables. Maybe it's that I'm too powerful and he's scared I'll take over? Nah that's the council as a whole, I'm no longer human and I command weird powers. No secret why they want me gone; they can control Frank, or think they can.

"Then you'll go? splendid! The expedition is set to leave in the morning, at first light."

"One other thing, I can understand everyone else, but why is the pastor going?"

"Well not only is he a priest now, he was a medic in desert storm. We do want you all to come back, after all."

He delivered that with a grin and a chuckle that did little to reassure.

"I see. Makes sense. Alright, it seems I have to pack, so excuse me."

He gave a jaunty wave with his face buried in his plate. I could just make out his muffled "Good night."

Disgusting.

Since I knew all the other players, a visit to pastor Collins before I turned in seemed a great idea. That isn't to say I didn't know pastor Collins, but I most certainly didn't know the new pastor Collins. What god did he serve now? Vulcan, like my friend? I considered that doubtful, he'd always seemed so nice and passive when I avoided him like the plague before. We got along mainly because he wasn't one of those in your face types, and didn't care that I was an athiest. He'd talk to me anyway, and religion wouldn't even come up.

Oddly enough for a village this small, pastor Collins' church wasn't the only one in town. It was one of two. Before it was simply a single story rambling brick structure erected in the late 60's. I wasn't sure about the denomination, but it was erected completely by donations and seemed pricey. Now it was quite different.

Honest to the Gods greek style marble columns of the purest white held the oversized polished and stained timber framework and shingled roof, and the walls were made of finely quarried and cut sandstone. where the stone had come from was anyones' guess. The building itself was much smaller than it used to be, covering a bare fraction of the land; but the property was surrounded by trilothons of sandstone and wood, giving the impression of both open space and enclosed, sacred area. It was beautiful.

It was also empty. At least, the outer area was. The boundary was easy to discern... I felt something as soon as I crossed it. A sort of full body tingle, kind of like getting a mild static shock over your entire body. Hmm. Step back, and again; same result. Reaching the inner sanctum, I did what any polite person should do... snuck a peak to see who was there. The place was empty save for the man himself.

Pastor Collins was always a man I had deep respect for. A veteran of desert storm now in his 40's (though I hadn't known he was a medic) he had actually seen combat there. Not everyone had. When he left he was cocky and strong. When he came back he was slightly broken and deeply religious. He was always a big man, but hadn't changed as much as the others around here; still solid but graying prematurely, which contrasted with his unlined still almost boyish face in a unique way. The loose white cotton pants and tunic he wore were different than anything else I'd seen so far. He still had his army ink though, all down both arms. He went to some seminary a year after his enlistment ended, and came back again to preach the gospel. something he'd been doing for decades now.

Now he looked forlorn... lost. Deeply troubled. I probably shouldn't, but I felt I had to intervene. After all, our lives may soon depend on him.

"Copper for you thoughts?"

He started violently and looked back.

"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt."

"No, it's fine. Come in lady Muse. What can I do for you?"

A bad idea to answer that directly. Instead I pointed past the alter, where a statue of a woman who had to be idealized in just about every way stood looking down upon the delicate oaken pews, a soft loving look upon her perfect face.

"So who is it now?"

"Minerva, Goddess of healing."

If anything he looked even more miserable. Ahh crap I hate being right. A crisis of faith of epic proportions. I sat next to him and he took that as his cue to start.

"I knew Him yesterday, loved Him yesterday, walked with him and spread His message yesterday... and now he's dead. She's here, as if She were always here, and He is dead. My mind is filled with her message, her ways. I can barely remember his name at all."

Not knowing what else to do I gave him a hug.

"It'll be Ok. We will figure out what happened. Besides, not to belittle what you're going through or anything... but His message is a healing one, right? Healing the sick, helping those less fortunate?"

I pointed to the statue to help my point.

"Well so is hers."

He looked lost in thought. Was that all it took? Crap that was easy.

"Look, got to go pack. See you in the morning, OK?"

"Sure. See you then."

I left him with his eyes boring holes into the placid statue, as if the answers he sought would be found there. Who knows, maybe they will. The visit certainly answered a few of my questions. With only one example in front of me, I was fairly certain all new priests would have powers. I felt his Goddess here, and somehow that feeling was familiar, even though I'd never felt it before in my life. Which meant that if his new faith held, he could be very useful. Perhaps more so than I.

Sure I felt like a jerk for thinking it, but we needed every advantage.

I stepped back into my place and the smell of fresh brewed tea drew me to the kitchen. There it was, brewed by the spectral presence floating just behind my counter. At least, I hoped it was. I hadn't even realized I wanted any, but the specter had. I still had to come up with a name for that thing. Ahh, I got it! Boris! Perfect name for it, it looked like a Boris.

I couldn't be sure, but I think it shuddered a bit. I sure hope so anyway. Well on to packing anyway, Boris could handle the dishes. Sheesh one day, and already I'm getting lazy and indolent due to newly granted magic. There had to be a moral in there somewhere. Not like I could trust Boris to pack for me. I instinctively knew that'd be beyond his pay grade. Time to see what traveling clothes I had... this silly dress wouldn't cut it.

My closet was full of dresses, ornate ones, frilly ones, plain ones, all on hand carved hangars that looked as if they were grown for the purpose. In an... armoire? (I think that's what it's called.) There was a selection of corsets and panties of various types and colors; some looked like they hooked into each other somehow, others were far less elaborate. Nothing. I turned back to the closet, refusing to believe any elf would only own frivolous clothes, and that's when I noticed the cloth wrapped bundle stuffed way in the back of the closet, behind the winter boots and snow shoes.

I could barely move what turned out to be a huge chest the size of a steamer trunk. Made of heavy oak and banded with steel, it sported a viney thorn filled rose plant scrawling it's way across both the wood and metal parts. There was no lock, just a hasp, and it opened wide without a sound at my merest touch. I could tell immediately I hit paydirt.

dark grey leather pants, still supple and somehow soft. Lined with something on the inside that felt like, well felt, but wasn't. At least I don't think it was. A second pair in black, treated the same way. A tan leather tunic with short white cotton sleeves seamlessly sewn onto it, lined like the pants and with what appeared to be lily designs worked into it. Anther tunic much the same but all maroon and sporting roses. A rather elegant light grey cloak that had no special stitchwork, but I could tell was special somehow. I could also tell it matched the boots under it, which were delicate, very well made, and carried on the same rose motif I'd seen off and on in my house. They looked so small... I wasn't sure I'd get used to seeing my feet fit boots like this.

In a corner was a dark tan bag, a finely woven burlap satchel about the size of one of those cavernous purses some women liked to wear that you could fit a compact car in. There were Runes stitched into it with a fine black thread, running up and down it's surface. I knew immediately what it was of course, so I set it aside. A wooden canteen was next, looking like one of those old circular canteens except it had no seam. Grown into that shape, of course, makes sense for an elf. I swear if I started munching granola and singing odes to trees....

After that was the sword. Even sheathed in it's leather scabbard (with, of course, silver roses worked into it) I could tell it was odd. The metal was an odd reddish gold that caught and drew the eye. The hilt was wrapped in two pieces of rowan with an odd bumpy leather stitched into place around them. It made a pretty good grip. The width and size was of a rapier; again delicate was the first word that came to mind. However the hilt was obviously made for two hands (especially hands as small as mine) and the length was almost that of a full broadsword. Light enough for one hand but a little unweildy, obviously designed for two.

I pulled it; runes etched and chased with some dark substance, possibly metallic in origin, chased themselves across it's length. The script was elegant, beautiful, and almost readable; something about it tickled the back of my memory. One word I could make out clearly and most powerfully as the blade whispered it's soothing greetings into my mind: 'wasp'.

Thankfully the blade was quiesent. I had no true idea, but according to the best lore I could go on, magical blades often fought their owners for dominance or took control of them. There was nothing of that here however, just a soothing caress of my mind and a mental farewell before I sheathed it. Questions, questions.

Head the battle for dominance already been fought by the other me? Or had this blade been made for me in such a way that I was already it's master? Did it matter, in the long run? I took the bag and packed it with one of the sets of traveling clothes, some underwear (including a few of those stupid corsets) a dress for special occasions (hey I was taught to carry one set of good clothes when traveling by my mother, sue me). That disappeared into the bag without a hitch, so I added rope, a small knife, the canteen, some small pots and pans, and most importantly... my magic book, along with a few books from my library. I was pretty glad when my magic book didn't cause the 'bag of plenty' to burp up all it's contents or open a hole to another dimension. I've heard some magic items could cause the bag to be finnicky like that.

Last thing I needed was another dimensional headache; I already felt like how I imagined Ash from the Evil Dead series must feel. Oddly enough I had the feeling that the most important book I had wasn't the magic book, but the now aptly named 'forbidden beastiary' that my old game monster manuals became. It was a large set of small books, bound in leather and each about the size of a small paperback. In each were the alphabetical listings of each known monster or race supposedly inhabiting the planet, along with common trends in culture, strengths, and most importantly, weaknesses. There were thousands of entries.

Knowledge was power after all, and knowing what spells or tactics worked best against monsters like say, trolls for example could mean the difference between life and death. I just hope the books are accurate. The flyleaf said they were penned by 'Owam the all knowing', whoever that was. Last I knew those same books were penned by a bunch of sweaty nerds with nasally laughs.

Packing complete, I disrobed (getting the dress off was a pain, the buttons were in back - Boris to the rescue.) and chucked the stupid clothes down a small chute near the door before I realized I now knew what that small well concealed chute was for. I decided not to think about that, but slipped under the cool sheets. It was moderately warm, and during the hot days and nights I did not like to sleep in clothes. The bed seemed warm and comfy enough, the night calls of the owls and animals sootrhing, so I stayed there.

*****

I woke all at once, much as I had before. It was not yet sunrise; the night was still dark. Oddly enough that hampered me not at all. I could see everything by the brilliant pale light of the half moon. I walked into the kitchen to make breakfast and go over my mental checklist. Some mildly hard bread (baked into a sort of french loaf, which I just gnawed on - no need to have manners at home) and some eggs from my icebox prepared in my iron skillet was plenty. I just did not have the apetite of the old, bigger me.

Of course the eggs reminded me, that I had an icebox full of stuff I wouldn't be here to eat. and that somehow reminded me of my cellar. My fruit cellar, reached from inside the house by a trapdoor under the rug in the living room, had all sorts of preserved foods for winter... or trips. Some preserved with standard techniques... and some with spells. All I really needed to do was cast the spell on my icebox, and it would keep, at least for a few months. 5 to 6 if my screwy memory serves.

It was kind of odd how I had magic for every little conveniant thing. Of course the spell itself was one of my more powerful ones; it'd fairly wipe me out, at least for awhile. but something told me food would be very important down the road. No corner
Mcdonalds or hostess twinkies in well titled convenience stores. First thing was first however.

The cellar was even more cool than the rest of the house, stone just like the rest of it, and even darker than up above. I actually had to retrieve and light a candle! Let's see... beef jerky, deer jerky, rabbit jerky... good grief, how many animals can you jerk anyway? stacks and stacks of it, rolled into stacks of wax paper. Various herbs of esoteric minced or dropped whole into blown glass jars and capped with cork or metal, sealed with wax. Hams pickled in small airtight barrels of brine.

Along the far wall opposite the shelves holding the herbs and jerky was a series of bins. Each one had the preservation spell cast upon them, and dates carefully written in charcoal on their sides. The dates were in a series of days, one after the other, and just under 3 months ago. Which was a relief, I had plenty of time. I knew that a properly ensorceled bin or chest could keep food like this indefinately (at least until the food was removed, of course) but I also knew with the same surety as the other knowledge that kept popping into my head, that I did not have the power or knowledge for that... yet.

So instead I grabbed a few stacks of the beef jerky and a few jars of dried apple and orange slices. Some of the preserved bread from the bin (travel bread, unleavened stuff that was called 'hardtack' in the days of yore) blew out my candle since I had my hands full and walked back up very carefully. Enough food for the winter indeed. To me, it looked like I had enough food down there alone to feed a family of four for the winter - I couldn't imagine the new me eating all that in less than a year.

Well I had to stop procrastinating, but my trick memory just told me of another thing I couldn't do without. so back into my den I went, this time to the small lab opposite the bookshelf. Under that large and heavy scarred table was a small box. I now knew that it was a field alchemy kit, filled with things like sulfur, rocks exuding iron oxide, glasswork such as the table above it sported, and other essentials of portable chemistry. I fit it into the bag too - the opening stretched and the box seemed to shrink at the same time.

The bag had a pretty large interior space. I almost wanted to try and fit my house in, now. After all, it had a kicking bathroom. Ugh, no more time to waste.

I entered the kitchen, sighted up, and cast the spell. It was like my lightning bolt, all visualization and intent. However unlike my lightning bolt this one knocked my butt to the floor. This served to remind me that I was still roaming naked through my house like a loon. So immediately after the fog left my vision and the walls stopped rotating around me I got up and rectified that situation.

Plain black silk panties, a matching corset that felt as if it would breathe (and let me breathe) the tan tunic and grey pants? leggings? I'll go with pants. Of course the entire outfit was as form fitting as it could get without being formed around me, but I was hoping the cloak would hide that. I even had a good long pair of socks so the boots wouldn't chafe. The boots felt as if they were hugging my feet now, but that was immaterial; after hours of walking they might feel very different.

And of course now that I had my clothes on I had to go to the bathroom. Sigh.

so after THAT was done, I belted on my sword and knife, grabbed my bag and was ready to go just as the sun started over the horizon. Still a little wiped, I dreaded the next step. Stepping outside with a travel mug of tea, I closed the door, locked it with the key, and then started the spell known as 'Magic lock'. (Fitting name, really, so plebian.) like before it too was all visualization and intent. thankfully it was a minor spell that simply kept people without the power to cast spells out of the place you warded. It also required some effort to break, even for a spellcaster. So while you could simply go back in anytime,
any caster trying to break in needed the 'Magic knock' spell (Yes pretty plebian again.) and to test their latent power against yours.

I was pretty confident that even if Frank knew the 'Magic knock', he'd never get inside. and anyone from here without magic could try till doomsday. I was just hoping they wouldnt get pissed at failure and demolish my entire house somehow. Or that something stronger than me would coem along and demolish them all, my house included. Oh well, at least the 'Magic lock' didn't knock me on my butt again. for the next hour or so even conjuring a feather might, but that spell is weak in cost for how handy it is.

And of course I'm the first one here. At least the sunrise is amazing. All yellows and reds around an absolutely huge red hued sun - as if the sky was stabbed and is now bleeding out.

Wow, nice morbid streak... I'll have to watch that.

(tbc)

I did not have to wait at the edge of town long; I was grilling our night watchman Dave Sims on if he'd seen or heard anything. He hadn't, but his dog Jonesy had barked twice last night, once a sort of desultery warning. Once fast and furiously, standing stiffly in front of his master and facing the woods in loud slobbering madness. Neither time did Dave see what set Jonesy off so.

I listened, petting jonesy, who was half asleep and leaning into my touch. Soon he was set to be relieved by Phil, of all people. I remembered the cowardly shepards well; hopefully they would do better this time.

"Yo! Mornin."

"Good morning Matt. Seems all was mostly quiet last night."

He shook his head and yawned.

"Mostly isnt even close, Hal's dogs kept barking last night, really loudly. Kept me awake most of the night, and likely a few other people too."

Hal Smith had a bloodhound. Didn't bloodhounds have a vastly superior sense of smell, or am I remembering wrong? Either way the village wasn't attacked last night, so maybe I was just overthinking it. The watch had done it's job, the dogs had done theirs.

Time for us to do ours.

I took a closer look at Matt; he had a large hammer strapped to his back (the thing had to weigh 20 pounds, at least to less than expert eye), a gladius strapped to his side and a small shield strapped to his arm. He also had a backpack that was about my size strapped to his back, under the hammer. He was wearing a chainmail shirt that stopped just shy of his knees. He didn't seem too burdened by it all, the jerk.

"Did you bring everything?"

He shot me a dazzling smile, not understanding the true thrust of my question and therefore taking it seriously.

"I think so, I've got food, water, weapons, flint and steel, a good whetstone, rope...."

"And a partridge in a pear tree?"

"Heh, well what about you? You look to be traveling light. Though I must admit the leather is a great look for you."

I held up my magic bag.

"This holds a bit more than it looks to."

He caught sight of the runes and started; I caught sight of our other party members walking up together behind him but still some distance away.

"Is that a 'bag of plenty'?"

"Sure is, seems to be the biggest size too. Found it in a trunk with the clothes and sword. I assume the mail shirt and sword were in a similar place?"

I inspected my other party members just entering hearing range and caught his nod out of the corner of my eye.

"In a trunk in my closet. The hammer though, that was hung up on hooks above the mantle."

Pastor Collins was in a grey robe and cassock like a monk, no doubt with his comfy looking spun cotton underneath. He had a rather large silver necklace on a crude silver chain. both looked to be pure; the necklace was of two small hands clasped together in prayer. thankfully for my mental health his backpack was less massive and rather jauntily hanging from one shoulder. I could see a small bedroll and some pots tied to strategic places on it. He wore only one thing that could be considered a weapon; a small bat or cudgel, made from a large oak stick capped on both ends with iron. He seemed to be in good
spirits this morning, a smile breaking easily over his features as if to mimic the dawn itself.

Karl was right beside him, dressed in clanky scale mail and sporting a long sword that I could tell at a glance was not quite as... elegant as mine. He also had large metal shod boots, iron greaves and bracers. His backpack was the smallest yet, but had all sorts of seemingly random items hanging from it by crude twine (like a waxed blanket, a jar of something I couldn't make out, and a hooded lantern, to name a few). He was also carrying one of those steel viking style helmets, with the nose and cheek pieces, and a spike set on top of it.

Randolf Wills was dressed as a hunter. His thick cloak was brown with grey and green patches sewn into it, his clothes were the same. He had a bow as tall as I was and a quiver that I'd be willing to guess carried some long broadhead arrows. He also wore a knife and shortsword at his belt, and he had no pack. Judging by the way his cloak moved, I'd be willing to bet it was all pockets, and filled to the brim. His long brown hair was tied back in a ponytail and his green eyes flicked from point of interest to point of interest, never staying in one place long. A slightly too pretty playboy the day before, he was obviously all business now.

Thomas Caine was almost his polar opposite in looks. He looked like someone had taken a hammer to his face multiple times, then used a meat grinder on what was left. He had no hair, only one eye, the planes of his face were out of alignment... and he had some of the nastiest scars I'd ever seen on anyone or anything. Yesterday he'd looked like a normal human being; a bit on the ugly side, a barroom brawler tough with a bit too much testosterone for his own good. But normal. Now he looked like something had to tried to hammer then chew his face off. He was built much like everyone else I'd seen so far; slabs of muscle packed on a large frame.

Even worse, he was dressed head to foot in shining, clanking steel plate, complete with a helmet (I wished idly that he would close his visor - soon). His sword was massive, easily the same weight class as Matt's hammer, and he also carried two small handaxes which also looked to be tools of murder more than simply tools, if their curved blades and swept back handles were any indication. His backpack was about the size of a school bookbag, and was jam packed so that the contents threatened to spill into the dirt. Cloth of some sort was what was on top of that hastily packed mess.

I controlled my reaction well enough to answer Matt. I don't think Tom was fooled though, his face tightened in the most hideous smile I could imagine.

"Must have been some massive hooks, that thing is huge."

Matt turned around, he must have finally heard them. How he missed all that sound I don't know. I felt like a brass band was approaching... or an ironworks. As they got close the smells hit... mold, rancid oil, rust and salt. Definitely an ironworks. I decided to be polite.

"Good morning everyone."

A chorus of "good morning lady Muse." greeted me, and I had a flash of me teaching high school with a set of particularly delinquent students greeting me. I really hoped discipline wouldn't be a problem. Then I realized we were short one. I needed more caffienne in the mornings, where was the other Phil? Phil Keene was our resident small time hood yesterday. Every town has one, no matter how small. He was ours.

A resident since birth, he was into drugs and petty vandalism at first, and the drugs led to his speciality... breaking and entering, sometimes with the residents at home. He never turned violent however, preferring to run if seen and give up if caught. For that reason the book had yet to be thrown his way; the extent of his hard time was a year in juvi. I half knew what he'd be this morning however. I could see the party mechanics as clearly as the bright blue sky above me.

Then I spotted him. Up in a tree, 5 trees down and to my right, leaning against the trunk with large toothpick in his mouth. He was dressed all in greys and greens, like Randolf, and sported four very large daggers strapped to his belt. I could see no armor of any kind, just a burlap tunic (which souded terribly uncomfortable as an idea alone) and loose cotton pants. It took me a bit more to see the two satchels and small bag he had in the tree with him. He was our thief, of course. Every party had to have one, as a secondary scout and trap expert.

The feeling that had dogged me for a day, that I was living in one of my old gamer worlds, came back stronger than ever. I really hoped that this wasn't the case; many many people tended to die in such worlds, a fact rapidly glossed over by the inane ravings of small men wearing thick glasses and hiding their faces behind paper screens.

I shook the feeling off when Phil waved and jumped down, soundlessly while the others were still greeting each other. He would be great at his role, I could already tell that if I tried to pick him out of a crowded street, I'd be unable to. Whether I knew him or not.

"Morning Phil."

He grinned when the others jumped; he'd always liked being stealthy, and he was better than ever.

"Shit man, Phil, where did you come from! We were just discussing who was going to get to wake you up!"

"I've been around. So what's the plan? I kind of expected the mayor to see us off and give us orders, but I think he's still asleep."

Karl answered.

"Well partying till around 3am will likely do that to you. The basic plan was to find where the border for all this is, or failing that, to find out just what is going on. I say we take this very road here to the east, and see what Grummige has to say."

Grummige was the next town over, some 12 miles away. Another hamlet much like ours. Fifteen minutes by car, a good three hours or so away on foot.

"Then let's get started; we're all here, and daylight just started burning."

We stepped on past the town limits and the budding sunlight was immediately cut off by the tangle of old trees. The farm country of my boyhood was completely gone, replaced by a confusing tangle of old growth forest that I could tell at a glance had been here for centuries. It blocked out the sun's heat and light, even on the road, cooling us all off instantly and shrouding us in gloom. It was without a doubt a boundary of sorts to the different world we found ourselves in, and we were trespassers.

Hands went to swords, all jokes and laughter ceased, and we all strived to make as little noise as possible. Randolf, Phil, and I succeeded. The others sounded like a herd of wildebeast stomping through a china shop. They couldn't even breathe quietly. The only good news is that I was upwind of them. Then of course, even that good thing had to end.

"Lady Muse."

I turned to see Karl almost running down the deer trail we had found, clattering like a train with engine trouble.

"Yes?"

"You really should stop taking the lead; let Randy walk it alone, and come back to the main group please."

Ugh. Double ugh. If I insisted, he would no doubt say something to the effect that I wasn't armored, and not as strong as the rest of the group, and should therefore be protected while I focused on causing damage if we were attacked. But I really didn't
feel like dealing with those arguments, as sound as they might be.

I really hoped that was it, and not the whole 'you're a woman now' thing. Cause if he said that, I'd likely kill him... with fire. Lots of fire. Really hot fire.

"Fine, just try to keep it down. You guys make enough noise to wake the dead."

Oh. Oh, crap... I shouldn't have said that. I'm completely in the wrong trope to say that.

"Something wrong? You're looking a little...."

"No no, everything is fine, nothing wrong at all."

He didn't look convinced. Matt looked amused, the smug jerk. He knew what I was talking about! Knew all about tempting fate. Several moments passed however, and no zombies jumped out at us... so I guess we're safe? We were sort of taking route of the old road (old as in, was there a day ago) as best we could. It was rough considering nothing but game trails existed now.

I was just starting to relax when a low trilling whistle that sounded birdlike but wasn't echoed through the trees. Instantly all stopped, Matt with one foot still in the air. I couldn't resist a slight smirk, even seeing how serious he was... that had to
be uncomfortable. Randy strode out from behind a bush in front of Karl, and almost got skewered.

"Sorry, just me. That signal is mine."

I nodded; I knew that. They should have too - shouldn't they? Karl interrupted my thoughts.

"What's wrong?"

"Just some sort of weird ruin ahead. No signs of life, but it was... well you'll have to see, provided you don't want to just say screw it and go around."

Randy kept his voice low, following Karl's lead. I looked around. We were in the middle of the forest, without so much as a small rise for cover. We did however have plenty of trees for that, and more than a hint of bramble. Most of the forest was gloom ridden
old growth, but without landmarks or any reason to have a ruin placed here to be seen. However, if I was right, the road had once cut through here, right past that fallen log.

Which meant that the old abandoned gas station should be around here.

Half of us were on the same page, creeping up slowly and as quietly as possible. The other half made the rest of us look bad, tromping through the brush like wildebeast in heat. I resolved to speak to them later, and at the same time I could make out Randy
resolving the same - if the muttered curses meant what I think they did.

After all, mine did.

The ruin itself was in a small clearing; more than a few stumps rotting in mute testament to how the clearing was made. It was a crumbling tower made of stone, surrounded by a rotting gated bug ridden palisade. It was not any sort of ruin that belonged in our world, and appeared older than any old building should be around here. Yet here it was.

The top had fallen, so that it was impossible to tell just how tall it had been when erected. Only the first six floors were still winning the battle against nature, The large blocks of what appeared to be sandstone still mortared together. Walking carefully around it, I could see places where the fallen stone had crushed the palisade; even if the log drop gate had been closed and locked, entry would have been simple. The gloomy pall of the forest seemed almost to concentrate past that yawning entrance, hinting at dark mysteries.

It also rather nicely answered the first question this expedition was meant to answer. Phil voiced it for all of us.

"Well guess that answers the question of whether it was just us."

The next question of course, was how far this all extended. The more immediate question and one the expedition wasn't sent to answer was what was on other minds, however.

"Should we check the place out? Could be answers of a sort here."

I couldn't stop the shiver of dread as I replied.

"That's a bad idea. It's not part of what we need to do, and it's obviously unsafe."

"Oh come on lady Muse, where is your sense of adventure?"

"Killed and stuffed into a box, next to the dead hooker."

Laughter did not distract them.

"I still say we check it out; it won't take long, the place isn't that big, and we can be on our way."

They outvoted me quite handily; only Matt voted with me. It was OK, they would learn. Hopefully not until after I was out of the line of fire, but they would learn. We all trooped up in a loud disorganized gaggle, my eyes alert even as I dragged my feet hoping to talk them out of this.

"Come on guys, let's not do this. It could be a dangerous haven for things like that dinosaur or worse. At least let Phil go first to scout it out before we all go in... "

I really wanted to say 'before we all go in like tards, but that would be an insult to retarded people everywhere. They at least had more sense than to go into a place like this.

"Well that's reasonable."

Except Phil objected.

"Why do I have to go first?"

"Because you're the one most likely to detect nasty surprises meant for trespassers before you die to them. We are far less likely. Maybe Randy could, but I'm not all that great with that sort of thing, and I know the foundries aren't."

"Ugh, fine, use reason on me. Alright, all of you stay here, I'll be right back. If I'm going in, I don't want all you tripping something on my head that I could have avoided."

He walked off, only his muttered curses showing he was even here among us at all. It was... well to be honest it was both unnerving and worthy of jealousy. Not even my own steps were as quiet without help. I was fairly sure the boots I was wearing were helping with that. Of course, I wasn't going to tell anyone that. It was purely my own skill, and not magical boots that made my footfalls resound with quietude!

Just like the camoflage cloak didn't really help me blend in at all. That game refered to them as boots and cloaks of 'elvenkind'. All skill if asked though. Wish I could get a view of the sky. Well, without having to climb a tree. Sigh, I hate being idle. To pass the time I chucked walnuts at Matt when he wasn't looking.

He caught on quick, and soon walnuts were whistling through the trees as we dodged, grins on our faces. It was something to do. Of course it made little noise right up until an errant throw hit Karl in the breatplate with a sound oddly like a bullet ricochet.

If his glare was any indication, he was not appreciative. Brian and I of course gave him our best, most wide eyed innocent looks. I think mine was better.

And of course the moment was ruined by Phil coming back out of the shadow steeped entrance like a dog with his tail on fire... silently. He made no attempt at stealth at all, and yet remained quiet as a muted whisper... however he was still visible, and just did not seem to care. Speed was more important apparently. He hadn't even bothered to brush himself off; he was covered head to toe in dust and cob webs. Hmm.

Judging by the almost anime wide eyes, the slack jaw, and the wild erratic movements, something down there had scared him.

"Yeah epically bad idea to go down there."

His voice was raw and hoarse, and his eyes locked onto the passage he left as the sound hit us, loud enough to startle a few finches overhead into paniced flight. Two of his larger knives just seemed to appear in his hands, which started flipping them in what I would term a nervous gesture. He winced at the amount of noise his voice made and ducked down. He wasn't ducking down in front of anything either; he was still clearly visible.

"Sorry about that. There were a few traps, but nothing really bad. Old cellar down there. Problem was there were people down there. Dead ones."

A snake started to slither in my gut.

"Then what's got you so distressed?" Pastor Collins inquired. He had been so quiet all morning I had (shamefully) forgotten he was there.

"I said they were dead, not that they weren't moving. I expect them up to meet us, at any moment."

I hate when I'm right. I really, really do.I started paying more attention to our surroundings, and lent only an ear to the debate.

"So what should we do?"

There was no door, it had long since rotted away. The blocks were very heavy, and would take too many of us too long to move. If I used the really destructive spells I had in my arsenal (mostly fire based) then I'd no doubt kill us all in the forest fire - along with our home town, depending on winds.

"Couldn't we just outrun them?"

"Sure but what if they follow us? What if they don't and go somewhere else, and hurt someone else? What if other people find this place not knowing they are down there?"

"I get it, I get it!"

Ugh, come on, think! We can't pile logs up in front of the doorway, they would burn too, or just eventually get moved by sheer mindless force. We don't even know what type of undead we are dealing with... wait, undead. We have a cleric.

Why am I so worried?

I turned back to the group.

"Ready to hear a few suggestions?"

Karl replied yes glibly, pale though he was.

"It's simple. Pastor Collins can hold them in the door while we drop a stone in front of them. They won't be able to get to us then. Phil I need to know if there are other exits."

He shook his head.

"Checked before I went down; only the one, unless there is some sort of escape tunnel somewhere. Went all the way down too, that's why the dead are so pissed - I kinda walked in on them."

Pastor Collins turned ashen as I spoke with Phil.

"Lady Muse, I'm a priest, how can I possibly fight off the undead? especially alone as you're suggesting? Surely I misheard you?"

"You won't be alone, and it's precisely because you are a priest that you can. You hold your holy symbol up in front of them and yell whatever comes to mind, and your Goddess does the rest."

Yes, I am blowing smoke here. I had no way of knowing that this would work. However, it was a perfect time to test it, and he really would have armed backup. He just had to be in front of them to try to repel them, first. Even if it didn't work, they probably woudn't have time to grab him, drag him down into the cold dank recesses of the ruined tower, and rend him into bloody gobbets.

I hoped.

Sometimes I really am a despicable human being. Or not anymore. Of course all this hinged on one rather important fact, as my eyes made out some movement in the gloom. Phil tensed and his knives stopped spinning as pastor Collins got into position, trepidation oozing from the man. I walked up beside him; my plan, and if he went, we went together. Besides, not like I could really help carry those stupidly large stones.

"Crap, Karl, can you Matt and Tom even pick up one of the larger stones?"

The first undead burst from the ruins in all it's horrid glory. An adult male, possibly young. The rubbery, waxen face hanging in strips from it's skull made it hard to tell with certainty. I could feel myself detach as I continued to make out details. Something had clearly been at the thing at some point; bits of bleached white showed on the arms and legs, and the entrails were missing. Some other things were clearly still at the corpse, as it seemed to shed bugs of all kinds as it moved, in what I could only call a shamble with deceptive speed. A low dry cracking moan issued from behind it, clearly there were more.

Then the smell hit, just as pastor Collin hesitated with his small disk made of silver with a muttered prayer. As soon as he held it up he seemed to become somehow more. More there, slightly larger than life.

"Back into the darkness you unclean things! Back to the graves you once knew in the name of Minerva!"

A soft light that briefly outshone the sun erupted from the disk. The zombie (I was pretty sure that was what it was by now, from the smell if nothing else) stopped so fast that bugs flew and hit us. I couldn't stop my flinch, but Collins didn't waver; his eyes blazed fire and brimstone, his face somehow both cold and kind.

"Back, thing which should not be!"

The undead retreated into the doorway and the down the steps beyond, colliding with more of it's own in the darkness.

"Lady Muse, we can't lift any of these! They are embedded too deep. You got a plan b?"

Crap! crap crap crap. Crap crap crap crap crap crap... wait a minute.

"Can you use that big honking sword to collapse what's left of the doorway here? That would block the exit."

Tom rolled his eyes and mouthed 'big honking sword' back at me, but ran clanking up to the arch, up on a stone and set to work fearlessly, ignoring the occasional nasty arm that would try to sweep past the white light at him. Collins was sweating now but would have none of that. It only took a minute or so before the stones of the arch collapsed in front of the door. Pastor Collins and Tom both backed off warily; we were all still able to see a hint of movement beyond in the now fading but still almost painfully bright light.

"So um, now what? We run like hell?"

I shook my head at Phil, trying to get my nausea under control. A corpse eating beetle had hit me in the face. At least I hadn't swallowed it.

"No, now it's time for my part in the plan."

Aiming very carefully but quickly I shot a golf ball sized wad of fire into one of the cracks where an arm had briefly appeared. The good news was I had angled it correctly, down the staircase. Without further ado I grabbed the good pastor and started running, hauling him behind me. Tom had already gotten the idea, clanking behind me as soon as the fire left my hand. The others were a bit slower.

"Now you might want to run."

A long weighted glance between me and the ruin and we were all going, stumbling over hidden roots and fallen trees.

The big boom was of course, spectacular. Those bastards had hit me with corpse bugs, after all. I steadied Collins then turned back. Tom was picking himself up while shooting me a dark look, The others had taken cover behind trees or folds in the earth. They were already back up, and looking with no small amount of awe at the scene.

The tower itself had fallen much closer to ruin, the blast bulging the heavy stones outward in all directions, just barely missing compromising what was left of the structure. However, the blast had been contained, and directed mostly downward. Only a few small fires burned outside, though there was a glow from inside, just barely spotted when I strained
myself, that I did not like. Sigh, I had been hoping the containment would be enough, but I don't dare chance it.

Once again the elements responded to my concentration, and heeded my call. This time it was earths turn. I stepped out of my focus to find a small man-shape made of dirt and grass staring at me with glowing eyes the color of mud.

"Put out all fires within five hundred feet of me, please. Then you may go."

The dirt man nodded, collapsed into a pile and rolled off, leaving a slight but detectable trail of new growth in it's wake.

"An elemental?"

I nodded a bit wearily, sitting down to catch my breath.

A rough hand drew me around, and Tom's hot breath hit my face.

"If you could do all that, what was the point of all of us playing with stones and putting Collins in danger?"

I blinked into his anger.

"Would you rather have had me drop enough fire to light up 100 feet of forest on top of us without containing it? If the explosion itself didn't kill us, the massive forest fire would. Or maybe summoning the elemental with no idea that it was needed? Those things are draining to play with, and I can't keep it here long. Besides you all need to get used to thinking and acting quickly, as a team, to crap you'd never have dreamed of existed before."

Karl stepped up and gently removed Tom's arm from my shoulder.

"She's right man; she used a minimum of force to get the job done as cleanly as possible, only pulling out the big guns when she had to. Besides, you did well; when you see the mage cast a spell and run, you run too. The rest of us froze up a bit too long."

I wearily shook my head again, watching the dirt smother more flames.

"No, I am not happy with my performance. I froze up too, in the beginning. I meant to have my sword out and covering our priest when he tried to hold back the dead, and I meant not to use the fireball at all. I was originally going to use some oil from our stores and just let gravity carry the fire to them; less messy and worrisome all the way around."

He raised an eyebrow at me, intimidating me to confess with his spocky ways.

"The first threw corpse bugs all over me; I didn't feel too inclined to hold back at that point."

His incredulous snort ticked me off.

"What?!? It was disgusting, that's all!"

(tbc)

An hour later, with us almost to where the town of Shrewsberry stood, and the bug jokes still hadn't stopped. They had ranged from the mildly humorous attempts to get me to blast Phil on the grounds that he was a haven for fleas, (something I secretly thought at least could be true) to the more direct and far less funny suggestion by Randolf that I blast the ants spotted on the trail.

At least now it was mainly just devoted to snickers and muttering amongst themselves. Jerks; I defy them to get hit in the face with a beetle that had recently been chewing on a walking human corpse a short time before and not get a little trigger happy. Not that I was in any way trigger happy. I ignored a fresh spate of giggles from my so called friends with head held high. Philistines.

At least pastor Collins hadn't joined in, though the sympathetic glances he had been giving me after I apologized for my failure rankled too. I'm not made of glass, no reason to think I'll crack just because of silly attitudes. And I'm not in any way phobic about bugs, despite what they all may think. The fatigue I had been fighting since I summoned the earth elemental had not helped the former illusion; even on the straight and relatively level road I couldn't push with any speed. I couldn't tell if I was slowing my friends up, they were being very good at acting like our pace was good, but I couldn't help thinking we should be there already, and they all had longer legs than I did.

Just as I despaired of ever reaching the next town over, we crested a small rise I don't remember being there when last I was this way, and saw it below us, in a depressed clearing full of wildflowers. Lilac and bluebells? that didn't make much sense... about as much sense as me knowing those flowers, let alone being able to tell them apart. Though I supposed bluebells were so easy anyone could I.D those. At any rate the road led down and right through them, to the town of Shrewsberry. Which was apparently under martial law.

I could see the haphazard barricade in front of the road, constructed of overturned wagons and carts, and the beginnings of a palisade. I could just make out rough dressed people working on the latter, and hiding behind the former, with bows, sickles, and scythes in hand. the crude mismatched marching patrol was hardly intimidating, but a nice touch.

And of course as we started down, their sentries saw us and all activity ceased. Almost criminal that, we could be a distraction. A good thing we weren't, but we obviously had much to discuss with the local powers that be. The further down we went, the more my own heart sank. It was blatantly obvious that whatever had happened, the town of Shrewsberry had not only not avoided it, it had been smacked by it as hard as we had. Hand carts and wagons could possibly be explained, or have been the only thing changed.

But instead, the houses were crude logs and mortar, much as the ones we left behind this morning. Most weren't even painted or whitewashed or whatever it was ours had. I coudl almost see the well in the center of town in my mind's eye, with the gossips chatting by it. The inn close by, the mayor's house would of course be painted. Perhaps there would even be the remains of a monster of some kind, barbecued on a bonfire last night? Nah, that level of deja vu would end the world. But something had to spook them.

"Hands visible guys, and walk slow. The natives are pretty riled up."

General assent was evident even without words, and we all raised our hands. Starting down, the thing that hit me the most was the smell; the lilacs and bluebells did more than vie for spatial dominance, the fragrances were heady when combined. It actually made me slightly dizzy... at least I hoped that was what was making me dizzy. The cautious (or perhaps paranoid) citizens waitind until we reached shouting distance of the barricade. They did not send out a welcoming party, instead preferring to seek cover so we had no convenient target.

"That's far enough, strangers! State your business!"

Seriously? I mean, seriously?

This did not bode well for finding answers here at all; if they were so far gone as to act like cliche villager yokel hick extras, then they wouldn't be smart enough to avoid licking metal in winter, let alone provide us good information. I feel that Karl summed the sentiment up well for all of us.

"Seriously man?!? What the hell do you think our business is? We're trying to find out what the hell happened to us! Maybe you like having to walk everywhere in itchy clothes and crapping behind bushes with no TP, but try to understand not all share your sentiments. Now can we talk, or not?"

The man, startled out of his hick impression, stood. He was a tall, lanky sort, a good seven feet tall if he was an inch. He also looked to weigh about as much as I did. His unkempt, spiky, and rather lank hair was almost orange, and his skin had more in common with leather than I would have felt comfortable with. He was holding a scythe easily in one hand, and as he stood, he waved it about with such abandon that I wouldn't have been surprised to see a head roll towards us.

Randolf's muted scoff of "Amateurs." made me grin a bit though. How quickly he forgets.

I didn't recognize him at least, that was something. I'd have been downright ashamed if he'd been a friend of mine. Unfortunately, he seemed to know me right off.

"Lady Muse! It's Lady Muse!"

Whispered murmurs started; gossip spreading like wildfire, and no doubt faster than the people who just ran off as if their butts were on fire. Just perfect. I suppressed the urge to facepalm.

"Um, do I know you or something?"

Then from out of nowhere hands grabbed him and dragged him back beyond my vision behind the wagons. There was muted whispering I only caught every third word of, mainly words like "idiot" and "get us all killed". Then a new face stepped out behind the same wagon the other guy was dragged behind.

He was a small man, barely a few inches over me with a slight gymnast's build. He wore dark almost black grey cotton pants, a dark maroon tunic that looked to be some kind of wool, and a black hide vest. He also sported a cap, one of those strange folded ones with a small ostrich feather plume sticking from it. The dandy image was completed with a few decently crafted pieces of jewelry and a rapier attached to his hip.

"Sorry; please forgive Owen, he was dropped on his head one too many times as a child."

Snickers all around, my own joining them. He made a sweeping gesture while we recovered and the 'sentries' lowered their 'weapons'.

"So, of course you're here to investigate all this. I must admit I didn't expect to see you here though Lady Muse. Mayor Conratty is a fool."

Well on that we could all agree, but this was curious. Why would he say such a thing?

"Why would you say that, mr...."

"Ah right. Apologies again, I'm Leeroy Wylde. Right now, I lead this rabble, for the moment. And to answer your question, for some reason, your name and likeness is known to us. In the same way as I now know how to us this." He tapped his sword to clarify.

So the same way I knew magic. Somehow I had a reputation that went beyond those who knew me. A good or bad thing? Only time would tell. I was leaning towards bad because it seemed to suggest what we all suspected; that this event was well beyond just one or two towns. That it might be state or even continent wide. The thought that it was truly worldwide hovered around my head for a second, but it was too big. The best I could do was work on my own end of this. He continued.

"As for mayor Conratty being a fool, well he is about many things. But if it were me, I wouldn't simply send the strongest magic user in the region away on an errand, even one such as this. Especially one such as this. I'd want you close to home, especially given the trouble we had yesterday."

Natural segue into the million dollar question.

"And what trouble would that be?"

"Well, aside from the obvious situation, yesterday morning this large tusked ape faced humanoid came into the center of town, where everyone was gathering, and started yelling gibberish. The encounter ended with the thing assaulting and almost killing one of our own, before we managed to chase it out of town."

I was pretty sure I knew, but I had to ask the next logical question.

"Was it an Orc?"

The light dawned in his and other eyes, like a flashlight turning itself on. He finally waved us in, and weapons were lowered.

"Yes, that's what it was! It had to be an orc! But what was an orc doing in the center of town? I mean, their kind...."

He spared a glance at me, one so quick I don't think anyone else caught it. But I knew what it meant. Their kind weren't welcome. Orcs had a reputation of being dumb bloodthirsty brutes, who only valued strength of arms. The problem is, I could not fully trust what my mind was telling me, or my gamer and myth knowledge.

Because like me, that Orc had been a human two days ago.

I wasn't sure, and hoped I was wrong, but logic and intuition both screamed out that I was correct. But should I mention it? If I didn't, then these villagers might well kill the next Orc to come along. It was clear that they were scared; the fear was on every face, even more so than the ones back home. Fear was the death of logic.

"Have you performed a head count yet? A tally of all the people you have here?"

"We have, a head count on the green was the first thing we tried. We had almost a dozen people missing. Three came back today; some were on trips to other towns for one reason or another, and found themselves having to walk home. We suspect more were out there, and simply did not make it."

"Possible, but I have another theory. Who is still missing?"

"Why, looking for someone?"

I shook my head.

"No, but I have a theory that needs checking. Can you arrange to take us to the homes of the missing?"

His piercing look seemed to see something he didn't like, but he nodded.

"I don't know all the details, I'm just helping out here. But I can get you a guide to take you wherever you need, assuming our own mayor agrees. Time to go see him now."

"Of course."

It suddenly occurred to me that my party had been silent this entire time... too silent. I looked back to find them all staring at me; Karl with amusement, Matt with a shrug, and the rest with calculating gazes and glassy eyes I really wasn't comfortable with.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing. Mr. Wylde, can we confer alone a moment?"

"Sure."

He motioned everyone back as I was pulled into an akward huddle. Thomas started off.

"You do remember you're not in charge of this expedition, right?"

"Of course I'm not, I'm just impatient. Look, it was obvious from the moment we saw them this wasn't some local thing. It was obvious to them the moment they saw us too. We answered our first question already; we just don't know how far it extends. Finding missing people is important, it will cement friendship with the locals around here, which we may need, and allow us to explore their territory unopposed. We need that to make sure we find all clues and gather all the information we can, both of which we may otherwise miss. We also can't dismiss the possibility that one of the missing people might have information we need."

The collection of dropped jaws tempted me to start using them to pot plants in. That they seriously thought I was going off half cocked-again, was something I needed to talk to them about at length, but here and now was not the time nor place. Karl added his thoughts.

"Remarkably well thought out, but we need to balance it against the risk that we're taking. The forest is filled with dangers, we know that already. Getting us all killed looking for people that are most likely dead won't answer the other questions we need to answer."

Randolf chimed in, loud whisper threatening to carry.

"That's right, and for all we know the natives here could be hostile! I don't like the look of them at all."

Phil elbowed him in the gut with a smile.

"You always think everyone is hostile."

"That's why I'm still alive." was the solemn reply.

...The hell was he talking about? The closest he got to mortal peril was pissing off a member of the Hell's Angels by decking his girlfriend/old lady. His eyes looked more than a little gone. I snapped my fingers in his face.

"Bullshit. Worse you ever did was fight in bars. Don't go flaking out on us."

He snorted rudely.

"Like you know all there is to know about me."

Karl broke it up before it had a chance to get ugly.

"Alright I think we're done here. I agree with Lady Muse's thoughts, and back the decision. But let's not get lax. Watch your backs."

Mr Wylde looked up with some masterful restraint on that poker face of his as we started back towards his people. He had been joined by another. A small (about my height! Finally!) almost completely bald man who looked like he was one foot, perhaps even the wrong foot, into his grave. No trace of the amusement I'm sure both were feeling at our football huddle. I hung back this time, letting Karl take the lead.

"Sorry about that."

"It's no problem; may I present our mayor, Mr. Anderson."

"Nice to meet you, mayor Anderson. So about this problem you guys have, with missing people? Our resident expert seems to think that it might be a good idea to investigate the houses."

"So I've heard, it's an excellent idea. I had ordered them closed for fear of looting or vandalism. People are scared right now. I'll act as your guide myself; I knew all the people missing personally, and it's quite a blow. I fear the worst."

It was highly likely that his worst was not the actual worst, but I had been chastised, so I won't say anything. Let Karl, the leader, handle it.

I decided to focus on the surroundings. The village, now that I could see it, was better constructed than home, (with the exception of my house) with actual planed lumber set in a box shape, many of them stained various shades. There were no gaps, any potential holes or cracks were filled with some dark substance that in most cases matched the wood it was adhered to. They also seemed to be put together with actual pegs, maybe even nails, rather than the slotted wood construction used just a few miles away.

Where we had a green, Shrewsberry had a large stream running through the center of town, almost enough to float boats on. I could see small fish of some sort or another darting through the crystal currents. The entire visible length of it was studiously avoided by the townsfolk, save one spot of hard packed earth naked of plant life downstream, where water was being gathered by the more industrious.

There were well kept wooden walkways inset in the dirt but appearing (and feeling) very sturdy, along with a few small bridges over the stream. No doubt more to keep the stream from being befouled than the people. Hygiene for the win. The market was laid out on the north side, and had people, farmers or merchants, selling fruits and vegetables. I recognized the cabbages and lettuce, the turnips and potatoes. Some were a mystery however.

The people sported hard faces still bearing shell-shocked looks. Even the merchants didn't seem to have their hearts into their work; the yelling was half hearted and barely obnoxious. I could still hear the rather complex birdsong going on outside the village. Those songs were far more interesting, I had to admit.

"You! Stop right there!"

The deep booming voice fooled me from the first. I looked around for it's source, then realized my mistake when motion hit the corner of my eyes... The lower edge. And of course a true nightmare was beheld the moment I looked down. I should have known in a world with Elves, zombies, and possible Orcs, the dwarf race would also be a thing.

What was more surprising was the irrational surge of hatred and contempt I felt the moment my eyes beheld his glory; a surge of emotion which, judging from what I saw in his eyes, he shared... right down to the surprise. I took a mental step back and went back into observer mode.

The dwarf was perhaps 3 and a half feet tall, with a wild beard that reached down to his boots in true zz top fashion, a light gray contrast to his dark brown hair. His eyes were a rather piercing blue, his face filled with a veritable road map of lines and crags. He wore some slightly smelly and very stained leathers under a shiny mail shirt. His trope weapon of choice was the double bladed war axe poking up from behind his head. Gods only knew how he managed to keep his head intact when he turned it, or for that matter, how he reached the ax in a fight without an impromptu shave. His boots were metal shod, and he left deep impressions in the earth behind him as he stumped up to us.

His mutter of "Oh great, one of them." Was of course heard by me, and I think that it was intentional. I don't think anyone else actually heard it, being a bit too busy fighting off bemusement. The mayor and our guide though, both took the dwarf seriously. Which meant that maybe I should too. The ever so faint smell of fresh blood clinging to his person seemed to corroborate that idea.

"Mr. Mayor, Mr. Wylde. What is going on?"

"Mr. Stone."

Of course, how very fitting. I really hoped all dwarves didn't have rock names; I'd have to murder a few small children till the world felt right again. Or as right as it currently did, anyway.

"Mr Stone, meet Lady Muse, Pastor Collins, Thomas Caine, Randy Wills, Matt Lockland, and Karl. They have come to our neck of the woods to
investigate all the strangeness. Everyone, Ethan Stone, a resident of Shrewsberry."

The dwarf raised an eyebrow, no doubt noting that the mayor hadn't given Karl's last name, and that our town of origin hadn't been offered; He should know both as common knowledge, but that did not mean he did. He didn't seem to be an out of towner. At least, the locals around him treated him like he was one of theirs. He spared another venom filled glance for me and some more veiled hostility for the rest of my party. The Mayor noticed and his words started tumbling out.

And of course, his last name was Stone. I wonder if they all had similar names; it'd be stupidly cliche if so. I wondered if anyone else caught that; I'd hate to think I was the only one. I re-tuned into the verbal diarrhea.

"Mr Stone, Karl and his friends are here to investigate the issue that has beset us all. They have managed to survive the journey to us in order to compare notes."

"Oh, and what have you found so far?"

I stayed silent as Karl answered.

"Dinosaurs and zombies so far. Well that and that this is more than one hamlet wide. Right now we are considering finding just how far it
extends."

"And we thought it was dangerous with just the Orcs." The mayor shook his head, the fringes of hair he had left waving in his self created breeze.

"Have you tried sending out an expedition of your own?"

He shook his head at me this time.

"No, we were too busy freaking out; we decided to turtle up here and wait for help. This is the place, the first house."

The dwarf spoke up.

"You sure about letting them in there Mr. Mayor?"

"Well I don't see what it could hurt. Mr. Wylde if you please?"

Leeroy made a slight production of producing a slightly rusted old style skeleton key, from his pocket and opening the door. Thus clued in, I took another look at the place in question. At first glance it didn't look any different than it's neighbors. It wasn't even larger. But on that second glance, it had iron nails, a full doorknob with a lock, and sported almost fine iron hinges on the door and and window shutters. Said door and shutters sported actual scroll-work, a series of lazy lines in an almost Celtic fashion.

so someone with a little wealth lived here; even more wealth than the rest of this town. I wasn't jealous... much. My own hinges were bronze.

As we entered, the mayor first, I took a closer look at the locking plate; there was something about it that looked odd from the iron I'd seen so far... A quick touch and my finger tingled. That was odd.

"Say, is there any magic on this door? Any magic users here at all?"

The others looked puzzled as Leeroy answered me.

"Well there is an apothecary on the other side of the square, and our priest, but no, no mages. And there shouldn't be any magic on the door."

A quick shifting of my own perceptions revealed no magic on the door whatsoever. Weird. A longer touch to the plate, and my finger was on fire.

"Ouch, what the hell!?!"

Matt was at my side in an instant.

"You OK?"

My finger had an angry red burn on it which covered the entire pad. The dwarf grumbled behind me, face in his hand.

"Get a move on you blasted fairy! It's cold forged iron... you know, the stuff you're allergic too."

Well color me stupid. I should have remembered that. In the game most types of Elves had no such weakness; but in myth and lore, most of them do. I'm sure the light dawning in Matt's eyes reflected my own. Alright, so I would have to avoid such metal in the future. But I didn't have to let that sawed off runt know I was grateful for the heads up. I'd have figured it out eventually, he likely didn't need to say something at all.

"Alright I'm moving shrimpy, don't get your beard twisted."

The burn hurt with a dull aching throb. It would be a good reminder to be careful.

The front door opened into the living room, which was a mess. The rather sturdy looking polished oaken table was broken cleanly in two, the companion chairs splintered. A plush divan was upended in the corner, books were strewn about, many of them ripped in half. a quick glance down the small hallway revealed tattered clothing strewn everywhere, and various valuables strewn about; jewelry and coins, mostly.

What sort of Orc would leave valuables behind? Of course I was all but sure of my answer. I took a look into the kitchen. It looked much like mine, with a rack for pots and pans, a granite fireplace, and another large sturdy oaken table. There was another door off to the side which I assumed led either to a cellar or pantry. The kitchen was also spotless, pristine and untouched. There were even red checkered curtains on the windows.

Everyone else had gone straight to the bedroom, so I joined them there.

"other than what you saw, there were no signs of violence. Not even a little blood. So we are at a loss. We can't really determine if anything is missing."

"so who lived here?"

"Sidney Black, a friend of mine. We went to high school together. He was a successful lawyer, and we had been friends for years. The Orc that came charging down the square and accosted me came from this house."

I spent my time looking. This house was indeed for a rich person, as it had a bath and a washbasin, with a pure inblemished mirror... The trail of destruction started here, if the razors and soap thrown about were any indication; perhaps it could have started in the bedroom itself, but if so then why would the trail lead into the bathroom, then out again? It didn't lead down the opposite hall, it didn't lead to the kitchen, it led from the bathroom to straight out the door.

"Mr. Stone, when you first woke up yesterday and found out you were... shorter, what did you do?"

Thus put on the spot before us all, he scuffed a gauge in the floor with his boot, trying to smooth it over. It almost worked, he had some heavy feet.

"Well I imagine it was much like you; I freaked out a bit, and tried to figure out what was going on."

I nodded. Karl looked as if he understood too, as did Tom.

"It seems that Elves and Dwarves aren't the only new species humans have been transformed into. I'm fairly confident judging from this evidence that your old friend was the Orc that accosted you."

I could see the denial forming on the mayor's lips so I pressed on.

"The trail started at the bathroom, at the mirror. If I may engage in a bit of speculation here, Mr. Black wakes up, notices he's green now, and stumbles to the bathroom, where he beholds his new form. distraught, he panics and gives in to his new found rage. then he stumbles outside for help, only he can no longer speak the common tongue. Enraged again, he finally hits you, and horrified at the act or afraid of the consequences, he runs away."

"But why would he no longer speak the language?"

"Not sure, but yesterday morning I woke up knowing how to speak elvish. The day before I was multilingual. Perhaps if I hadn't been, I too would have problems communicating?"

I looked to the dwarf and he nodded. He knew and had known multiple languages too.

Matt spoke up.

"Well, while we are on that subject... you do talk rather off sometimes, with strange grammar and word choices sometimes. It's not anything too bad, I mean most of the time you're spot on, but it's almost as if english is no longer your first language. And also when you burned your finger you cursed in elvish."

I had no idea, why had no one told me this before? I y was actually pretty important.

"If it's even English all of you are speaking. It may not be; but in either case, it's fairly obvious now that language barriers will now exist."

"... I had no idea. My own friend and I treated him like a monster...."

"Mr. Mayor! Snap out of it sir, there is no way you could have known. For now it's more important that the word be spread and we check those other houses. We don't want anyone else making the same mistake if we can help it; after all, if people are turning into Orcs too, well Orcs are well known for their tempers and less than forgiving nature. Any antagonizing on our part can lead to problems we don't want."

Like killing on both sides.

"Right! I'll spread the word that we don't want to shoot them on sight or anything. I wonder if anyone in town can speak their language...."

I didn't want to mention that if so, they had likely already turned green and either run or hidden themselves. I addressed the next question to Karl, as politely and deferentially as I could. In a way, I was lucky that what I had changed into looked so much like a human. And perhaps gave off a nice nonthreatening vibe, being smaller than they are. I know that I was never so happy to have taken languages in college, and I did not like to think such thoughts.

"I think we've learned all we need here; to the next house?"

"Yeah, I think you're right; let's go."

The next houses were clear; no signs at all of violence, and everything was where it was supposed to be, best as any of us could tell. The relief was palpable, we had no more changed people running around. However that meant that if the people of Shrewberry were serious, search parties would have to be organized and conducted. Our part here in determining the truth of the disappearances we done.

Of course, like every other question answered, it raised more. Like, the biggest question: why was I the only changed person in our little hamlet? Why were there no missing townspeople like Shrewsberry had? Was it such a rare occurrence? Why was it rare? What dictated the change in the first place, did it follow any rules at all?

No answers to those.

I'd also been keeping my senses focused on the main problem; I'd seen no weird magic or dimensional anomalies or felt anything strange at all. Which made me think my new senses may not be the way to go about finding anything out... but of course it was all I had. Senses gather data, which the brain then interprets, and all that. The fact that I wouldn't have had any way to detect anything of the sort two days ago was promptly shelved as a useless distraction.

The summary of the situation in Shrewsberry was that until we arrived they knew less than we did. We were not going to find answers here. The only good lead we found was the language angle, and I had no idea what to make of it yet.

"So looks like we're pretty much done here. Lady Muse?"

I nodded, I couldn't think of anything else we needed to check. The mayor was still troubled.

"Thank you for helping us. Please, if you find our missing people, send them home."

"Yeah we will. we will keep an eye out; chances are they went missing along the road, and that's where we're going, so... we will do what we can."

"Excuse me Mr. Mayor."

The dwarf again, still staring at us in myopic suspicion.

"Yes Ethan, what is it?"

"I'm going to go with these people, in the best interests of Shrewsberry. Someone needs to represent us in this endeavor, and I'm nominating myself."

Oh no. No no no. I tried to shoot Karl a look to let him know how bad an idea this was. He was rather obviously avoiding looking my direction. Matt looked amused. I knew the others would be no help; Pastor Collins would not object at all, and Randolf and Thomas would be more interested in sticking it to me to help me here.

"Well I can't make you stay, you have a choice... "

Make him stay. Make him stay!

"... If their team does not object, that is. Otherwise we might have to form our own."

Sure lay on the guilt, jerk. I knew they had no magical artillery, and that lowered the life expectancy of any party they formed significantly. There were no objections from us.

"Splendid! Thank you for taking on our representative."

Again the Mayor looked relieved. Wanting the dwarf gone perhaps? If so, why? Hopefully that wasn't it. Hopefully it was no more than him being happy that Mr. Stone wouldn't be off on his own, or following us alone. I knew how stubborn dwarves were, and thought that the most likely outcome to any dissent on our part. I shouldn't immediately jump to racism off the bat. Or maybe, judging by the relief I could see on Mr. Stone's face, I could.

"If you don't mind, just let me get my traveling pack. I'll meet you at the road in 5 minutes."

"Sure, we'll be there."

(tbc.)

True to his word, Mr. Stone did not keep us waiting long. It could have been more than the stated five minutes, but without watches or smart phones we had no way of knowing. It' s the little conveniences that are missed the most. That true-ism was actually from a reporter reporting in a war zone; Baghdad, I think, but I couldn't remember for sure.

“Thank you for waiting. I appreciate the chance to go along.”

Karl asked the million dollar question I wanted to, but didn't dare.

“So, why did you want to come along? You seemed pretty suspicious of us before.”

In response he pointed rather rudely at me.

“Well, you had her along. You even listen to her. You seem to have level heads, more so than those we just left. To be honest, it felt as if it were just a matter of time before I was run out of town; I just hastened things a bit. Hopefully either we can fix whatever happened, or absence will make their hearts grow fonder, and I'll be able to go home after all this.”

That was... surprisingly forthcoming of him, and I could sympathize. I made the effort, and lowered my own paranoia a notch. The way he was treated must have been far different than the deference/awe I had been treated with so far; it had to be a mage thing, as opposed to an elf thing.

Poor Dwarves, and their lack of magic. I couldn't even imagine it... which was really strange, because I hadn't had any myself a few days ago. Or had I? The cars, phones, television, and computers... wasn't science a type of magic in itself? Those devices were able to make the impossible commonplace every day.

Of course, we didn't have Elementals a few days ago, so there was that. Didn't have zombies either. But we had legends of zombies, for thousands of years in some cultures. So what did that mean exactly? I was on to something there, I smelled it. A ghost of a ghost of a thought.

“So, why do you listen to an elf anyway?”

Well that was rude; very rude.

“How partial are you to that beard, exactly?”

He backpedaled.

“I didn't mean it like that! What I meant was, my own home town was treating me as if I were half a stranger; like I didn't belong there, with them. And you heard how they reacted to the Orc. I'm fighting a fair bit of prejudice that's been rammed into my head sideways, and unless I miss my guess little lady, you are too.”

While I bristled at the little lady comment, I had to concede the point.

“I am, and I'm sorry; I'm trying very hard not to snap.”

He nodded thoughtfully.

“As am I, but that begs the answer to my question; why aren't you receiving the same treatment? Even my own village was all but kissing your ass.”

It had to be reputation somehow. While beating the dinosaur with magic would be enough for my own home, Mr. Stone's town would not know anything about that until I told them, and they still treated me with respect. How would I have such a reputation? I've only been using magic for a few days.

“It has to be my reputation as a mage somehow. Let me ask you; were you always a bit taciturn, or introverted?”

He nodded, conceding my point.

“Yes, I never did like the neighbors much, but I was never impolite or anything of that sort.”

“right. I think somehow who we were carries over into who we are now; no idea how it works, but I was always sort of active in my community.”

For better or worse. It definitely was part of why mayor Conratty was anxious to get rid of me. Come to think of it, pastor Collins had too... and Karl was more a friend of mine than the mayor's. I didn't know if the others were sort of enemies of the mayor, or more of the general malcontents, but I suspected the latter.

“Perhaps that's it, but something tells me there is more to it, and it's something worth investigating. So, here I am, and I can help you all investigate what's going on as well. Safety in numbers and all that.”

“You'd have followed us if we hadn't said yes, wouldn't you?”

Mr. Stone nodded.

“Or course; wouldn't you?”

I had to admit, at least to myself, that I would. I didn't need to say it out loud however, Karl, Matt and Mr. Stone were already turning away to give more attention to their surroundings, and Randolf was looking at me in a new light, by all appearances. It made me a bit uncomfortable really, but I didn't let it show – I hoped.

I had to focus myself; we were out of the village limits proper, and the forest was starting to close in again. After the zombies in the gas station that wasn't a gas station, a certain amount of wariness was called for.

After all it was only paranoia if no one was out to get you.

The late afternoon however, mocked such attention; it was calm, with a slight northerly breeze. The sun was bright and warm; even the highly overgrown forest was bright in comparison to when we set out this morning. The air carried the same hint of flowers and wild spices it had before, and I couldn't help but want to breathe it in.

And of course in the middle of taking nice deep breaths, I caught all the men staring at me. Damned if I do, indeed. Mr. Stone snorted.

“Must be an elf thing.”

“I was smelling the air; don't you smell the hint of wild onion? The strong smell of Horsemint off the right?”

“Of course I smell it, faerie, I just don't need to breathe it in like that. What's so great about the stench of a few plants?”

“Never mind Mr. Stone, if you don't understand, I don't think I can explain it to you.”

Thomas piped up from a nearby tree.

“It's OK, she can breathe like that all she wants, we won't complain at all.”

“Shouldn't your eyes be the other way? You know, facing away from us, looking for threats?”

He grinned, the smug bastard.

“I couldn't possibly pass up such a view. Any ambush that gets us is worth it.”

“You won't say that if a dinosaur sneaks up on us.”

They all stopped and just stared at me.

“Alright, so they can't really sneak. My point stands. Screw you guys anyway.”

Karl decided to rope in the morons.

“Alright guys, the point is still a good one. Eyes facing where they should be. Focus up, remember the zombies.”

They all sobered up, even Mr. Stone, who hadn't seen them personally.

A lesson of a more abject sort was not long in coming. Karl fell into, of all things, a pit trap. It was cleverly concealed in the middle of the trail; None of us spotted it. If Karl's feet hadn't been heavily armored, the spikes at the bottom would have impaled him; as it was, he was able to keep standing, barely. The climb out was a long one however, even with Randolf helping things along.

So who set it?

A quick investigation revealed dark freshly turned earth, still bearing it's musty smell. The worms were still wriggling along through it, and the stakes were green and oozing sap. For all of that, it had been camouflaged by a master; small sticks in a grid pattern bearing a slight dusting of what had appeared to be hard packed dirt. For all I knew it could have been from the road itself mere hours ago; it certainly smelled like it.

A quick thought and gesture, and the dirt the hole was missing came out of the woods and filled it again; wouldn't do to leave traps like that in the road for the next passersby to die to.

All done in hours. Maybe less. What could...?

“Thomas.”

“Yes?”

“Phil.”

“Yes?”

“You both need to start scouting ahead, very carefully. Stay in sight of us and each other at all times, and be on the lookout for anything unusual; anything at all that doesn't fit. There will be more traps like this. Karl, get a walking stick, a long one.”

Matt, a bit more savvy than the rest when it came to these things, bent over to whisper.

“What are you thinking?”

My whispered reply was cryptic; I didn't want to give voice outright to the horror I feared it was.

“Something I hope I'm wrong about. Oh boy, do I ever hope I'm wrong.”

There was a new trap about every ten feet on the road. Pits, swinging logs coming from the tree line, once an honest to the gods rolling boulder trap. All cleverly concealed by a master of the art, or so Phil kept insisting. I just knew that my guess was getting more likely.

According to Phil and Thomas, the traps out in the woods lining the road were even better. Or as Phil was putting it:

“I'm telling you, you almost fell in it. One more inch to the right and you'd have been upside down, hanging like a trout.”

Thomas of course, was bristling worse than a cornered porcupine.

“No way in all the hells was it that close. I had a good amount of clearance to disarm both traps, and I managed just fine.”

“I know what I saw Thomas, you were almost trapped while disarming another. It's OK, we can't all be as good as me.”

That did not bode well at all.

“So the trap builders are getting more creative then?”

“Yes indeed. I'd suspect they were watching us, but I haven't caught them at it. So if they are, they are VERY good.”

Of course they are. Sigh, it almost has to be them, doesn't it? I can't think of any other critter or race so good at trap making and so absolutely cowardly as to employ long term trap ambush tactics like this. Especially after the first several traps didn't work; any other race would switch to some other tactic. But not these, no they would just hide, and good luck finding them.

And all this was taking place along what was once a well traveled road, leading to two different villages, with only 10 miles or so between them, and not more than a mile away from Shrewsberry. Someone was bound to get hurt or killed if we did nothing.

But how to draw them out? Usually getting 'caught' was a good way to draw them out, but the traps weren't big enough for all of us, and the evil little things wouldn't come out before a healthy group like ours. Unless we made them. But if their boltholes were too good for even our ranger and rogue to spot, how would we do that?

I wouldn't burn the forest for this, that was just stupid.

Think! How to do this? Of course, I'm an idiot... the very same thing we were discussing earlier. Reputation. They always did have a nice healthy awe of magic, and magic users. I could use that to bluff them. It would require a light show, but I could do that.

“Group huddle guys. I've got a plan.”

They huddled; I silently directed Phil, Thomas, and Randolf to face outward so we couldn't be shot with arrows while our backs were turned. It wasn't likely, but it could happen.

“OK so the plan is, I make a flashy light show while you all cover me, then I bluff. You guys follow my lead.”

Karl looked curious.

“Why do you think that will work? We haven't seen any sign of these trap builders; they could be long gone by now.”

“No, they are here; watching us. I'm sure of it. They have just had hours to prepare their camouflage. It's like their traps now, so well hidden we'd have to trip over it.”

Matt asked again.

“You know what's doing this? How dangerous are they? Orcs?”

“I suspect, and if I'm right, they are very dangerous. And no, worse than Orcs.”

Mr. Stone spoke up, having invited himself to our huddle.

“What could be worse than Orcs?”

Pastor Collins shook his head, finger to his lips.

“Don't say such things. It could be always be something worse than Orcs. Or worse than worse than Orcs.”

I stared at him, and he blushed.

“You know what I mean, Muse.”

I nodded.

“I do, but trust me, if I tell you, you won't believe me. Just work with me on this. We need to solve this, or Shrewsberry citizenry is in danger. Anyone who comes down this path that isn't as good as we are is going to die. And they might even be able to get one of us, if we continue to let them try hard enough.”

Karl's hand was a comforting presence on my shoulder.

“We trust you. Do what you need to do, we will follow your lead.”

I released a breath I didn't know I was holding and nodded. How to make the best light show? Hmm, a simple summoning? I already knew I could summon Elementals. No, in the numbers I needed I'd quickly drain myself, even with minor ones. So if I couldn't do that, I should fake it.

My own variant of the light spell, a little juiced up, would do perfectly. Especially when combined with another small spell I knew. This was the first time I went ahead and actually focused on my magic, without the element of surprise or adrenalin dump from seeing a charging dinosaur that could level a house.

It was harder than I thought to make the magic come unbidden. It was a focus, a feeling, a code of emotional response. I'm not sure how to describe it, other than to summon light, I needed to feel light, to be bright emotionally. I was also very sure that it was different for other spell casters.

Stray thoughts defeated the process though, so I had to start again. I ignored Matt raising his eyebrow at me and cleared my mind with far more ease than I should have... almost as if I were more experienced at this sort of thing than I really was. Another piece of the puzzle.

In seconds 6 multi-colored balls of light were swirling around me, trailing a slowly fading colored dust and making strange sounds, almost ghostly ooooo noises but not quite. I actually fed pretty proud of my creations until I caught the muted snickers from the peanut gallery.

Philistines, I swear if they screwed this up... well it'd be the toad treatment, and flies for all.

Now, to make this good. Loudly, and as clear as I could.

“If you don't come out, I'll send my minions hunting for you. You won't like what happens when they catch you, so come out now. You have five minutes.”

I sent the harmless balls of light flitting around the group, slowly at first, then faster in a show of agitation.

Then I swear, my ear twitched. Stupid twitchy ears, they had caught something. A gust of wind brought more, and I realized what I was hearing was a snatch of conversation:
“...but what is minute?”

“Not know, may be magic thing? You want find out? Could be bad.”

“But she say we have them. Isn't have things good?”

Oh gods damn it. I hate being right. I really do.

A quick twitch sent two of my globes of light heading the direction of the sound. The reaction was immediate.

“It sees us!”

“The jig is up! We should flee!”

“Shut up Norie, you is stupid! Give up is only way!”

Thomas twitched a bit. The voices had raised, and he had heard that part. The next action of the little scum in question though made that point moot. The horrid reedy voice I'd heard raised itself in an ear wincing, strident refrain from back along the road we had just passed, not more than 100 feet from us:

“We give ups! Don't hurt us!”

They were as tall or perhaps a little less than the dwarf, but had to weigh far less. Animal like legs despite an upright posture, hands that might be lacking in fingers, but managed to have an opposable thumb. Snaggle toothed maws under beady black eyes, ragged clothes covering mottled fur and scabrous lesions. Small harmless claws, but one held a rusted dagger, and the rest small cudgels.

And oddly enough, they had hair, sticking out straw like from baggy potato sack hats. It just had to be freaking Kobolds.

Cowardly, back-biting, trap setting half intelligent vermin only one jump up from giant rats, and probably distant cousins to same. They certainly had the look of bipedal rats, without the fat. Thomas's hands tightened on his bow, making it creak. Karl looked amused if anything, Randolf looked intrigued. Matt and Mr. Stone looked as suitably horrified as I felt, however.

Matt's reaction was expected, but Mr. Stone's wasn't, perhaps he had previous experience with the things? If so, how? Was he a gamer in another life, like Matt and I? Questions for another time.

As I watched, the one in the least ragged clothes stepped forward from his small pack of four, mouth open to speak. I cut him off. (I hoped it was a him, it was wearing pants... but then they all were.)

“Is this all of you? Speak truth or all of you will be cursed.”

I didn't know any curses, but I knew Kobolds were among the most superstitious races in all fantasy settings. That was what made this plan work; the little vermin would not willingly bring down the wrath of a magic user upon themselves, even a weak one. And I was anything but weak. Exactly how strong I was I didn't know, but Kobolds were no threat face to face.

They preferred to set traps then loot corpses for valuables and food. Sometimes the food was the corpse itself. They rarely attacked full well equipped parties though, preferring to let them go by in favor of easier conquests. We were never really in danger, but ordinary Shrewsberry citizens would be killed without thought or remorse.

But for all of that, I couldn't forget the most important fact; these cowardly flea bitten things may have started out as human as I was. They had in effect, fell for my ruse and surrendered. Anything final we did to them could be murder.

Of course, if they were just jumped up rats, then murder was stretching it, even though they were sentient now. Sentience on their part was debatable anyway.

In response to my both shouted and pointed question, the one I took for the leader raised a small beaten metal whistle to his mouth (I hesitate to use the word lips, they didn't seem to have much there) and blew it.

I knew it was a whistle due to just being able to make out the broken hearing destroying sound. Any dogs in the area would surely be going crazy right now, but I could tell it was outside human hearing range. It was nearly outside of my own, and oh how I wished it had been.

“Others come now, you no curse, yes?”

I tried to look as stern as possible. It seemed to work. Or perhaps it was Randolf behind me, idly fingering his many weapons. Karl was just as bad, and Matt was downright glaring. Only pastor Collins showed any signs of leniency at all.

“As long as they all show up and quickly, no I won't curse the lot of you. How many of there are you?”

He counted. Using his fingers, then his toes. I tried very hard not to scowl through the long process.

“Twelve.”

Well that was surprising; he actually could count past ten, and knew what the number meant. No wonder he was the leader. He also didn't hesitate, trying to make himself as small as possible, cowering before us. They all were. I sent my balls of light further out, trying to make them look menacing for the new arrivals.

Two I had spell out the words “Give up or be cursed” in common, the language we were using. I knew the dust I had them spitting would be good for something.

“Then we wait.”

I couldn't contain my curiosity any more.

“So, Norie.”

“Yes, mighty one?”

“Were you always like this? You and your pack?”

The confusion was immediate. The face he made was charming, in a child's nightmare kind of way.

“Like what mighty one?”

“Always short, furry, and... smart? Good at traps?”

“Oh, yes yes Norie always smart and furry. Norie's pack always good at traps. Is good for food.”

If the Kobolds were ever human then, they did not remember being so, or lacked the capacity for it now. But chances were that they were not. The rest of us remembered easily enough after all. But wasn't memory a function of intelligence? I was pretty sure I read that somewhere. The bottom line was, I couldn't be 100% sure.

We really didn't have to wait long. No more than 10 minutes, all told. Twice groups did not come out, but the leader, (the infamous Norie) blew the whistle again and yelled, pulling them from hiding before we even knew they were there. Waste of a species, only partly sentient, but they had sharp senses.

Each new group added to the pointless arguing amongst them, words flying too fast for me to properly decipher through their atrocious accent. His pack seemed to hold Norie responsible, and most wanted to stay hidden. Norie in turn pointed to me, and said I would have killed them all if he had not called them out. They countered that his group was the only one in direct danger, (a surprisingly clear observation from them) and he should have kept silent and died a hero.

Once the last group was walking towards us I no longer had to put up with such crap. A good stomp of my magic infused foot to the hard packed earth of the road and a nice thunderous crack sounded.

“Shut up, all of you.”

I split the light balls in half (making 12) and sent them at the little vermin. When they floated harmlessly into the now shrieking beasts, I let them dissipate, giving the appearance of the light being absorbed into them.

“You said you no curse!”

“And I didn't. That magic is to track you. You will disable your traps, all of them. Then you will leave this place, and never return. If you do not remove your traps, I will know. If you do not leave, I will know. AND I WILL KILL YOU ALL. Understood? This is the only mercy you get from me.”

“We understand, and obey.”

Some chattered directions and they split up, two groups heading off into the woods, and one back along the road we hadn't traveled yet. In order to hedge my bets, I borrowed a few crows from the trees nearby. Another simple spell had their eyes following my target groups. I hoped they wouldn't notice the tails, they had proven very observant. One last crow took a small note from me, and went to find a certain mayor.

Once the vermin were out of earshot, the expected blow up happened.

“So why are we letting these... things go, exactly.”

Wow, that was Karl's reaction. Normally he was among the least bloodthirsty of us.

“Because they might have been as human as us, not all that long ago. I really don't want to murder someone if we can fix this, or fix them.”

“But they said they weren't.”

“They may not know, anymore.”

Randy put his two cents in, backed closely by Mr. Stone of all people.

“They are dangerous, without a doubt. They kill to rob people. They target the weak directly.”

My anger rose. I tried to keep the heat from my reply.

“They can't help that, exactly! What happens if we kill them and manage to figure out what's going on? Do you really want to kill someone who hasn't done anything wrong yet?”

Matt chimed in.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you see any bodies? We'd have found any if they had any victims; after all they don't seem the burying type to me. Heck, they only rely on the traps because they can't actually fight anything straight up.”

Randy's reply had more than a little heat of his own.

“They are still dangerous, no matter what they might have been before! We have to deal with the realities of now! Letting those things kill people just because they might have been human before is stupid!'”

He was right into my face, spitting. I wouldn't back down.

“Then you go right ahead! They are right down the road, murder them all with a smile! I made a choice, and I will accept the consequences! They won't find villagers traveling alone, Shrewsberry is currently being warned, I made a choice to turn away from having my own prejudices, that were shoved into my head sideways, rule me. You do as you like.”

He looked as if he got it, but he was, if anything, more angry.

“No, you made our choice. Ours. You decided for all of us... remember that. I won't stand for that again. Anyone they kill is strictly on your head alone.”

Ugh. Pissing contest with me unarmed, so to speak. He had a point, but the world wasn't always going to wait for us to vote. I suppose we could have though, this time. Well I wasn't going to apologize to his butt-hurt self.

“Understood.”

We started off again in silence, Randolf leading the way with Thomas and Phil scouting, and Matt bringing up the rear. Karl, pastor Collins, and I were in the center.

I noticed a distinct lack of eye contact, and more than a little cold shoulder from the party at large. Or maybe it was my imagination. I certainly hoped it was. The only thing I felt from Matt were his eyes occasionally glued to my ass. I wasn't sure how to feel about that.

At least he was looking for threats behind us some of the time, and if he was so mesmerized, he wouldn't turn completely against me. At least, he shouldn't. After less than a day, I was already making new friends; only not.

Hopefully I wasn't losing any old ones.

The rest of the day was spent in an otherwise blissful stroll through nature, complete with birds chirping, the sun shining, and trees and brush rustling in the breeze. And the smells were pure and sweet. Fresh pine needles, various grasses, the occasional deer, and just about any wild flower you could hope to smell.

It was soothing, but I felt half sorry for those around me. They didn't seem to see/hear/smell the same way I did, or as much. They were missing out. Maybe Thomas could; I'd have to ask when we stopped.
Occasionally, when Phil or Thomas checked in, they would look back at me (we were maintaining a loose formation on Karl's unspoken insistence), say something to Karl or each other I couldn't quite catch, and chuckle. Every great once in awhile I heard a chuckle by them from the forest too.

Close to sunset, or at least sunset for the forest (when the sun dipped below the tree line, still some time from full sunset, but more than enough to make a forest dark) Karl halted and signaled us all to close up.

“It's time to find a place to set up camp; our two scouts are going to range on either side of the road, the rest of us are going to look a bit closer in; stay within sight of each other, and be careful. The events of the day have proven this is dangerous.”

I had to; I just had to.

“Alright, but I have something I need to ask. Phil, Thomas, what's so funny?”

They looked at each other in a perfect deadpan moment, then both burst into laughter.

“It's you.”

“It's definitely you.”

“Using balls of light farting pixie dust to try and look scary.”

“Only you would even think such a thing intimidating.”

“You're lucky the rats were so gullible.”

“You'll be in trouble if you do that against anything smart. First the bug thing, then this.”

“You're such a girl there, Sailor Moon.”

Oh. Oh! Oh, damn it. Damn it all.

“Shut. Up. Go find a camp, before you need to find flies.”

“Sure sure there, mighty one. Phil, ribbiting away.”

“Thom, ribbiting away!”

They actually jumped their way into the forest. While croaking. Un-fucking-believable. Mr. Stone and Randolf were already laughing so loudly the birds were flying off in alarm (I did not blame them). Karl was at least silent about it, and Matt was red in the face. Pastor Collins just looked pole axed. His question of “what is Sailor Moon?” did not surprise me.

Rather than answer I turned to Matt.

“What's your problem? My spell choices not funny enough for you?”

“Not at all, just imagining you with a henshin sequence.”

Urk. By all that was, that was sick. I slapped him upside the back of his head.

“Mind out of the gutter there, and focus.”

Karl, who had managed to compose himself, interrupted.

“That's my line, Lady Muse. Look for a camping spot over there if you would. Matt and I need to have a little talk with pastor Collins.”

“....Fine.”

I left. I didn't look as hard as perhaps I should have. They waited until I was out of easy earshot however.

Meanwhile they chatted and laughed. In two cases, they laughed rather loudly. Pastor Collins also went red in the face a few times too. Then Randolf caught me looking and wiggled his bushy uni-brow at me.

Philistines.

Well, there was no clearing this way, so time to go save Pastor Collins from the corrupting influences currently surrounding him.

“Alright he's a man of god, or a man of a god, quit trying to warp his head.”

Matt pulled his innocent look at me, but Karl went for the more direct challenge.

“He's holy, not dead. Right Collins?”

“Quite right; nothing in the new faith about celibacy., at least as far as I know. Matt was just explaining all about this anime I missed, and what a henshin sequence was. It's been quite educational.”

I swear I could see a small stream of blood from his nose, but with his beet red face I couldn't be entirely sure. I was too late. It'd only been about five minutes! Randolf was openly leering. I wanted to hit him, but I felt I'd hurt my hand to do so. Karl glared at him a bit and he stopped. Then he changed the subject.

“So, anything?”

“No clearings at all nearby that direction, let alone ones with handy sources of water or easily defensible locations. So, no. Not really.”

“Well I didn't think there would be. So now we wait for the scouts. Who are supposed to be smart enough to avoid trouble, and should therefore be back any minute.”

“Bad idea to say anything like that.”

“I know, but I strongly suspect they are off drinking somewhere, so I'm a bit angry. If they can hear me, they better come out.”

Delivered in a normal tone of voice, with little emotion. Karl was formidable. A slight rustle of brush and Thomas was next to us; Phil showed up a moment later, materializing next to me. Me, of all people... the jerk.

Him I could punch, so I did.

“Ouch, what was that for?”

“Scaring me. Don't do that.”

“Point taken. Karl we found a good spot.”

He pointed off to my left.

“Good, it's beginning to get a little too dark for my liking. I don't want to run into anything in the dark. Lead on.”

He did, leading us a good fifty yards or so into the wild undergrowth. The moment we left the road a form of uneasy twilight struck us. I remained sure footed, but there was much stumbling around me. A few curses here and there, too.

The clearing in question wasn't big enough to let the sun through the gloom, but it was big enough for a sizable fire pit and several tents or shelters. The pine trees closing ranks around it would keep out the worst of the wind and any rain, and the brook that was busy babbling on the other side was a convenient source of water. In fact, there already was a sizable fire pit of water eroded stones in the center of the grass free clearing, and the old fallen tree that was our way in (a break from the ring of trees) bore evidence of old ax or hatchet marks. Possibly both.

All I really cared about was that it was big enough for tents, if we wanted to. And I wanted to. Sleeping on the cold, dirty ground in no way appealed to me.

Of course I knew what sort of ridicule I'd get before hand. Farting pixie dust indeed. Nevertheless, I reached in and pulled it out while striding to the back (and incidentally the highest) patch of the clearing. Normally, it would be just me, and my sleeping bag (or in this case, bedroll). But this close to a bunch of huge men I felt the urge to have another layer between me and prying eyes. Besides, I had to use locking spells on something with a kind f door; a tent qualified, barely, while a bedroll did not.

Hey, I didn't make the rules... or even know about them before I thought of it just now.

The tent was a welcome nod away from the light and dare I say feminine cloth I had hitherto found, being a tough burlap in serrated earth tones. The pattern made a good camouflage in a temperate forest or plains setting with a little work, and the bottom had a built in heavily waxed groundcloth. The stitching on the seams were as fine as those on my clothes; the entire thing with a bag full of bright copper tent stakes, mallet, and screw together tent poles included probably weighed less than my spell book.

The real question was, where had it come from? I didn't remember packing it last night. For that matter, I had thought about it twice today, hadn't I? As if I had known it was there all along; had it been in the bag of plenty all along, and I knew somehow? If so then why hadn't the other items been in it? Was I getting way too paranoid about every little thing?

I ignored the peanut gallery, busy drinking the fresh water or just plunking down and relaxing, and started rolling the tent out.

“Hey, is that an actual tent?”

Matt strode up, cup in hand, water drizzling down his chin, and got in the way.

“Grrrrrrrrr.”

He jumped back, allowing me to roll it

“What the... did you just growl at me?”

I finished rolling the tent out, the end touching right where his feet were before, and nodded.

“Sure did.”

A few quick blows with the mallet (the head of which was covered in padded cloth to prevent the noise from traveling, apparently I wasn't the only one who was paranoid) and the stakes were driven in; the ground was nice and soft. Good farming loam, unless I missed my guess.

“Might I ask why?”

I knocked another stake in.

“Well you were standing right where the back of the tent goes. Door flap towards the fire, slight downgrade from the tree line, otherwise the area is flat and level. Perfect place for a tent. In fact, best place for a tent in the entire clearing.”

I drove the last stake in. Now this tent was a form of pup tent, so all these pieces had to make two tent poles. I started linking them up.

They were carved of course. They suffered from the same motif as the bag itself, wooden vines coated in resin, the odd flower cropping up. Each pole also had a stylized thorn hook at about two feet up( the poles were three feet all told, or I was a Dwarf).

And now that I could stretch it out, the design scheme on the tent had it's own rose and vine motif running the length of it, through the muddy multi-hued 'earth' the tent portrayed. When spread out, it had more than enough room for any three people and looked like a small flower strewn hillock, or at least it would from a distance.

Not at all out of place in a forest, but a little more... elf like than I had previously hoped. At least the copper stakes didn't burn my hands.

I went inside to place the final stake, and it promptly got worse. The inside was a second layer, this one of beige linen, with a small window in the back (also covered in linen, white). The linen had a meadow in full bloom painted on it, lightening to a pastel blue sky, and the window was the sun. Of course. I threw my bag inside and closed the flaps. No one must know.

“So um, that thing looks pretty big.”

“Indeed it does.”

I replied as I looked around idly. None of the others seemed to have tents. Karl didn't seem to care, dragging a small stump in front of the fire pit. Phil and Thomas were gathering firewood, and pastor Collins was working on lighting said fire in the fire pit. It wasn't really late in the year, or shouldn't be, and the temperature was still warm.

But a fire made us all feel safer; and a fire here would be almost impossible to spot from the road, or deeper into the woods.

Randolf clanked off with Mr. Stone, gathering firewood by excuse, telling bawdy stories by the sound and sharing liquor by the smell.

“So, um... can I share your tent?”

“Grrrrrrrrrrr.”

I won't lie to myself. Watching him jump back like that was pretty satisfying. I did manage to keep a straight face... mostly.

“Right. I'll take that as a no.”

I looked up; there were clouds, painted fiery yet muted colors, scudding their merry way across the sky. They seemed none the worse for wear for the rain burden they carried. A quick sniff of the air revealed a hint of fresh moisture.

Feh, they would live.

“No room in the tent; it's strictly a single.”

He stared, completely flabbergasted. But none must know. Besides, it was too hot to sleep clothed, and I'd be damned if I'd let any of them in to possibly sneak a peek. So I stared back, one eyebrow raised in challenge. I kept my cool even when Karl snorted laughter behind me, but almost lost it with Matt's retort.

“Chicks.”

OK, I admit to being a jerk here, but Matt is the one that joined in to mock my light creations earlier. Along with the bug thing. And he had been staring earlier, when he though I wouldn't know. I am sure of it.

But that one stung.

“don't you have something useful to do?”

Karl interrupted before things could go further downhill. He handed Matt a small wooden shovel.

“Yes he does. Matt, go dig a latrine, now.”

Matt moved off.

“Other direction Matt, not next to the stream.”

He shook his head as I face-palmed.

“Sorry Lady Muse, he was out of line there.”

“No need for any apologies, I'd be happy to share normally, but there are... complications.”

It really wouldn't do to have the people I may need to save my life feel that I don't trust them. I did. But all the same, as close a friend as Matt was, I wasn't sure he'd ever see the inside of that tent. At least not while I was in it.

And that went double for the rest of them. I'd just never live it down.

“And you Lady Muse, you get the first cooking duty.”

...excuse me?

“Excuse me?”

“Yep. Cooking duty. Phil and Thom are out hunting. Whatever they catch, they skin and bring back. Pastor Collins has fire duty. Randolf and Ethan are handling the fire wood. I have first watch, and Matt is digging the latrine. That leaves cooking duty. Tomorrow night we all switch jobs, except possibly Thom; he's our best hunter.”

So, it wasn't the whole 'woman’s work' bs. I guess I could live with that. If they started treating me as some stupid simpering yokel in homespun though, It'd be the toad treatment.

“Alright, I get it. I'll get everything set up.”

I had a sort of medieval mess kit, I remembered that one and had made sure to pack it before. It was small though; I hoped it was up to the task. Turns out I needn't have bothered. As soon as Mr. Stone spotted my little kit he ambled over, muttering.

Mr. Stone had almost a full kitchen in collapsible pots.

“I think you'll need it, lady. I heard Thom talking about the deer trail he'd found not too far from here.”

A deer? An entire deer? Heck with that, if they brought back a full deer, I'd need help. Of course one look at Karl and I knew I wouldn't be getting any; it'd be my task alone to dress and cook it. I had no idea how to cook anything like that, unless it was as venison steaks.

And of course, Google was dead. Good luck finding really cool recipes now for really strange food now. Perhaps after we solved the mystery of the ages, we could find Chef Ramsey.

Luckily enough, Thom and Phil did not bring back Bambi. Unluckily for me, they did bring back a brace of Thumper. The no longer cute cuddly things had been skinned, (mostly) bled, and dressed before being brought back to camp, so as not to attract local wildlife of the more dangerous sort. At least I had that going for me.

I decided on a stew, with some tubers and wild onions (and some garlic, salt, basil, and mushrooms from my own food stores, but no one needed to know that). It's very hard to screw up any kind of stew. Stew is almost unkillable. Nevertheless, I tried. Fortunately for all stomachs involved, I did not succeed.

At every comment of 'great stew' and 'very good' I searched for signs of mockery. It all seemed to be genuine, but I knew it wasn't as good as it could have been. After everyone was finished and busy seeing who could make the loudest belch, I retired to the stream to wash the dishes. Always part of any cooking job as far as I was concerned.

Besides, I doubted any of the others had brought soap.

Then my task being done, I nodded my good night to Karl (who was the only one paying attention) and went inside my tent. I did not want to leave matters there though, so I cast about in my mind for that which came so easily now; at least part of the time. This time it took longer than I wished.

I focused, and the door 'locked'. Another moment of focus, and I had an alarm set; anything with hostile intent coming within 50 feet of the tent would set off a loud hawk's cry. I chose a hawk specifically because it would be out of place at night, and yet hawks had been flying around earlier this very day. So someone or something with less knowledge of animal behavior might ignore it. Like a bear; bears were rather big on my mind at the moment.

I still felt better knowing that Karl was on watch. After all something might get past my spell somehow; a sentry was always preferable to just magic alone.

Preparation work done, and my two spells adding to my weariness (keeping up with tall people on the march was hard work) I shucked my clothes and hung them on one of the thorn hooks. The bag went on the other. Then I climbed into my bedroll.

The conversation was too loud.

“Did you see that?”

“Well, now I know why she insisted it was a single.”

Sigh.

“Gentlemen.”

The reply came in chorus.

“Yes, Lady Muse?”

“Shut up.”

“Yes Lady Muse.”

I swear. They had to rehearse or something.

Though I tried, sleep was a long time coming.

Some times, no matter how much sleep you have, it's just never enough. And some times you wish you could sleep more. Very rarely do those days coincide though. Today, with the pleasant rays of the sun streaming through my tent's fake one, removing the slight chill, and my very warm sleeping bag firmly ensconced around me, was one of those rare days.

Then again, with the pleasant rays of the sun streaming in, it was at least an hour past dawn; the sun wouldn't be able to penetrate the forest canopy otherwise. And that of course, meant I was likely late.

On the other hand, I was comfortable, and didn't hear any hints of movement. My spell alarms hadn't been tripped, so I was inclined to believe it was a completely innocent sort of silence. Unless of course, someone could manage to get past them without setting them off or dispelling them, and then start world war 3 without me hearing it.

Who was I to say what was and what was not possible? The world didn't make sense anymore.

So as much as I wanted to just lay back and read my new book, I decided to get up and dress. I could possibly read a little while everyone else was breaking camp if it was just a case of me being early. Turns out it was neither.

Everyone was up, breakfast was made (and mine was waiting) and everyone was looking at me as I opened the tent flap.

“...What?”

It was a wonderful morning, with fresh scents and bright colors. Of course, there had been a little bit of a drizzle some time last night, which led to a few soggy companions huddled around a fire. Also at some point last night, a brown waxed tarp had been affixed to some trees as a makeshift shelter against the rain.

Their sleeping bags and bedrolls were on a line, drying. Surely it hadn't been that bad.

I joined the group at the fire, grabbing my set aside plate. The stares continued.

“Seriously, what? I didn't sleep through some wake up call of yours, did I?”

I was pretty sure I was told last night I wouldn't get a stint at watch... though maybe I was wrong in that? Karl finally deigned to answer.

“No, they are just wondering how much you knew and when.”

A slight sinking feeling. What I knew about what? Had the distrust our Gimli reject suffered started affecting us now, after a delay?

“...What?”

“The rain, lady Muse. The rain. You set up that tent; elves don't normally use such, at least according to our resident experts. So they were wondering if you knew it was going to rain last night.”

That delivered deadpan with pointed glances at Phil and Thomas, letting me know three things; that he wasn't in on this, tempers had apparently actually flared, and who the actual experts were. The tone of voice also let me know he didn't believe a word of it, which made the next part a bit of a shame.

“Um, actually, I did. But in my defense, our woodsman did too! So you really need to talk to him. Also, I apparently do use a tent, at least most of the time. It felt like second nature after all. I'm Not sure why.”

Maybe because the sleeping under the stars thing was a bullcrap stereotype, and I didn't for it?

“She has a point, Thomas. You should have known too.”

“Meh, I smelled rain, but thought it would hold off another night. It was a light scent after all. I'm pretty good, but when its 50/50 I can get it wrong.”

I smelled a rat, is what I smelled.

“And you expect me to be better at it?”

He didn't miss a beat.

“Yes.”

Alright, time to get insulting. I opened my mouth but Matt put a finger to his lips briefly from his position behind Thomas. So I shut up and let him handle it.

“You pissed off Lady Muse yesterday something fierce. We all did. Is it a wonder she didn't mention any chance for rain? We got soggy, it was our own fault. You didn't mention it either, and that's your fault. Quit trying to shift blame onto her for your shit.”

“Alright, I get the point.”

With a sour look, Thomas reached over and started undoing the knots holding up his tarp. I approved, it was a sunny day, with no hint of rain lingering in the air. The various birds were frolicking in the sky, and my ears could catch other small critters likewise frolicking in the forest around us, used to our presence and noise by now.

In short, the makings of a wonderful day.

“Lady Muse, I don't suppose you could help us dry our things, so we could get going, could you?”

I empathized with Karl on this one. On the one hand, a large part of me was screaming silently that there was no rush; we had nowhere specific to be. On the other, the sooner we got some place, any place, we would learn more of just what happened to us and our world. I could feel that urgency in a very real 'nails on chalkboard' kind of way. So I ignored that traitorous part of myself that urged relaxation.

“Sure.”

Now, how to do this....the easiest way would be with fire. But fire would of course, burn. The next easiest would be air. But I didn't want to risk blowing things away. Any spells strong enough to dry the cloth in a hurry would either risk burning or blowing it away. Wait, water could work, and there was a stream nearby...

I really needed to stop coming up with solutions to problems that involved summoning Elementals all the time. It was the strongest spell I had, and really took a lot out of me. Hmm, maybe a variation on my magic toilet spell? That could work, and it didn't take that much out of me.

Well casting the spell didn't. Enchanting something with it did. Good thing that wasn't what I was being asked to do, or I'd have to say no in order to avoid wasting more time, most of it flat on my back.

Using a slightly more juiced version of my 'instant bum drying spell' was easy enough; even moving from bedding to bedding. Using as many uses of it as I did still didn't come close to one elemental summoning, even a small one.

The two spells seemed sort of similar, actually. The main difference being power added and a difference of degrees....

“Lady Muse.”

“Huh, what?”

Karl was next to me, and I hadn't heard him approach.

“You alright? You were staring off into space there.”

“Yeah I'm fine. Was just contemplating spellcraft.”

“So... are they done?”

I nodded and pointed to the small puddles under the bedding.

“All done. Should be completely dry and ready to pack up. And before you ask, no it didn't take all that much effort.”

“Good.”

He grabbed his own and began to roll it up. Taking that as my cue, I went back to my tent to pack my own things up. My bedroll was easy enough, and everything else I used was packed up beforehand... so in no time at all I was left with the one chore I didn't want to deal with. The packing up of my tent.

I traced a hand along it, following one of the vines sewn in. It was dry. Not a magical dryness, I was sure, just a normal one comprised of rain sliding off and the sun evaporating what was left. The poles came apart with a half twist, the copper stakes came out easily with a single pull on their ring heads.

No dirt at all stuck to them; not even a speck. The holes made closed back up as if nothing had ever been hammered in there.

The tent folded up easily, with no air bubbles and went back into it's pouch with all it's accoutrements as if it had never been out of it.

OK, this crap was getting weird; I'd never had a tent that cleaned up so easily; either the poles wanted to do their own thing, or the stakes wanted to stay in the ground forever, or the tent needed to be refolded five times before you could fit it back in it's bag. Even one of these enchantments was beyond me. But I couldn't help thinking that it had been made specifically for me.

So who had made it for me? My father, like the sword? Or someone else?

I wonder if there was some way to magic up a few of these answers, so I'd be at least a little less confused? If so, it's probably beyond my current power; cause I couldn't think of a way to do it currently. Maybe if I read more. Which would necessitate me demanding down time in which to read.

Maybe I would have to, but that felt like a drastic measure this morning. I could feel time wasting as I stood there, bag in hand. A quick glance showed much the same point of view among the rest of us; we were all already packed.

Well everyone but Ethan, who was still rolling up his bedroll with some muted curses.

“Alright Lady Muse, you got up last, so all the other jobs were taken before you. You have the last one; filling in the latrine.”

Karl handed me the small shovel with a smile. Jerk.

Sigh, Oh well. I took the thing with as much grace as I could muster and went to do it. Someone had been very... enthusiastic during the night, and with no paper, no less. I tried very hard not to breathe through my nose.

When I was done, I couldn't smell anything though. Jobs done right, that's my motto, even in bizarro world.

I made sure the shovel was properly clean then returned it. By the time I was done, all evidence of the campsite's recent use had vanished; a form of magic in itself, though one of mundane origin. While I could do it, I had to admit to myself that I couldn't do it as well as some of my companions.

And then just like that, we were back on the road, squinting in the suddenly brighter sunshine. There was no one on the road, a fact that both made me sigh with relief even as it filled me with a vague dread.

You would think someone else would have used the roads by now. I mean sure, most people would be motivated by fear not to, but we couldn't be the only intrepid types in all the land, reshaped or not... could we?

Something wasn't adding up here.

Something was telling me that we should not be the only people on this road. A road which, only four days ago, was busy. Not the busiest by any means, but seeing cards zip by every few minutes was the norm. That same road for the past few days, had had nothing on it but a few kobolds, setting traps.

They hadn't even had any victims in their traps, something I at least had looked for. Even considering the lack of time, that seemed odd.

Having nothing else to do, I sent my Raven to scout the path ahead. I had already taken the place Karl wanted me to take; right behind him. Thomas was scouting the road ahead in his own way, Phil was behind. Matt and Ethan were leading the way and setting the pace, and Randolf was behind us watching the rear.

We were still lined up like ducks or lemmings to an ambush, but we couldn't do much about that without ditching the road, something we were loath to do. For better or worse, by silent majority, we felt our best chance to get answers lay with civilization. So we stuck to the one landmark we had that we knew would lead us to it.

It was somewhat after the sun was directly overhead that we got to the next village. I compared what I saw at the other side of clearing to the mental map I had. Yep, Georgetown township, right there. Named after Washington and sporting some five thousand people a few days ago... and currently a walled community.

Which was very odd; the other small towns, ours or Shrewsberry, hadn't been walled.

“Let's wait a bit Karl, like we did for Shrewsberry.”

He nodded, picking up on the feeling we all seemed to have, and we waited just outside the forest. I could see that the road led both into the town... and a fresher, less beaten path led off to the side. Focusing, my eyes could pick up signs of decay in the wooden palisade; The logs weren't chinked well, and the ropes were sagging.

Five minutes revealed no activity on the wall or in the watchtower, and the gate was sagging open. I could see not a single hint of movement. The grass in the clearing closest to the town was a mottled brown and laying over. It did not move in the hint of a breeze we had, as the other grasses did.

I recalled my raven and sent him over the place. His general sense of the village was a lack of motion; of activity of any sort. There was nothing more he could communicate to me, my link with him wasn't good enough yet and my ability to speak his language nonexistent at the moment.

“I think whatever happened here, we missed it.”

Thomas picked up on something I hadn't thought of.

“Chances are we missed ti some time ago; there are no traces of smoke. Fires around this place would be going strong for days after they were made; even at home some of us had embers in our fireplaces, pumping out some smoke. Nothing like that here.”

Karl nodded.

“Not a smoking gun in and of itself, but highly suggestive. Alright so a vote; do we follow that,' he pointed to the newer trail leading away from Georgetown. 'or do we go in?”

I didn't even hesitate.

“We go in. There may be answers in there, especially because it looks like it does, no in spite of it.”

Matt and oddly enough, Ethan both backed me, with a chorus of “I second that.” followed by a mild glare at each other.

Thomas and Pastor Collins shrugged their lack of feeling, while Randolf and Phil were more cautious.

“I don't like the look of it. Or the smell. I say we go around.”

The way Randolf was fingering the scar road map on his face was a bit disconcerting.

“The smell, Randy? We are a bit far for any scents to reach us.”

“I'm not talking about that kind of smell, Karl.”

“I'm with Randy on this one, Karl. Something just feels wrong here.”

I nodded, letting them know I felt it too, but refuting the argument.

“That's exactly why we need to look. We're investigating, remember?”

Randolf nodded slowly.

“Yes, I understand the point. I just feel that caution is more important. We can't do anyone any good if we die to some random dinosaur or something worse, regardless of what we find.”

Phil added his thoughts.

“I'm just not a fan of dying at all, for any reason.”

Karl made a show of considering it, but we all knew his mind was already made up.

“Noted; but we also need to take risks too, and this one looks like a good one to take. We go in, standard formation and try to be quiet this time.”

We got into our standard traveling formation again, only spread out a bit more, and started in again. There was no hail or challenge, and no noise at all save for things rattling in the light breeze. The sun seemed to dim a bit more with each step towards the place, and the willies were a definite thing.

Up close the palisade was in total disrepair; the gate hadn't been destroyed by conquest but by the elements. The ropes were loose and rotted, the wood crumbling and lopsided. The path was overgrown oddly enough, with weeds long dead. The smell was of vague decay and mold.

Once past the gate, it was even more strange. The sunlight seemed not to reach all the way into the village itself, and there were dead weeds and live disgusting looking mushrooms everywhere. There was standing brackish water in puddles, stone depressions, and even holes in the wood rotting everywhere.

Not a single building looked as if it had been touched in ten years. The thatch roofs of the houses had long since rotted or fallen in, the doors were as rotted as the palisade gated and also hanging ajar, and the assembled detritus of living had seen much better days. Our own noises and footsteps seemed curiously muted in the silence, as if they were not a part of the scene in which we found ourselves.

I'd been to this town five days ago; it had been a bustling if small Midwestern backwoods metropolis.

The good news is, we saw no evidence of bodies. Any bodies, even animals.

I had a hard time thinking we'd even find insects, for some reason. I certainly didn't see any; not even mosquito larvae in the brackish water, and normally such a thing was a given.

I certainly wasn't going to drink any water from here; and food was a revolting thought. I normally liked mushrooms, but ewww. A glance showed the mushrooms were the only things alive in our sight range. My raven felt no reticence in coming down however, so I used him to fly by and see if anything was startled out of hiding.

Nothing. Just the dead grass screaming it's reedy moans in the wind.

I looked to Karl. I actually felt splitting up into two teams would be a decent idea here, as long as we didn't stray too far. We needed to do like the Scooby gang and cover ground and look for clues while not tempting old man Rivers to put on his mask. But I didn't dare suggest that; it would be summarily rejected, just because I made it.

So I waited for the proper decision with patience, poise, and grace.

“What's gotten into you? Fire ants in your pants?”

Matt was grinning, a wan thing in this atmosphere, but Karl actually looked concerned after asking that. The jerk. I was not fidgeting!

“I'm fine, thanks. No I'm not detecting anything other than what you all are. At least, I'm pretty sure I;m not.”

He gave me his patented 'pull the other one, it has bells on' look but didn't call me on the statement.

“Alright. Randolf, Thomas, Pastor Collins and I will take the right. Lady Muse, Matt, Ethan, and Phil take the left. Yell if you find anything interesting or unusual. Or at least, unusual for this place. Be careful, and meet back at the gates in an hour, whether you find anything or not.”

I knew I wouldn't have to say anything. Karl and I understood each other. I even understood this reasons for splitting the group up the way he did. He could have taken Ethan too though, I doubted his presence would even slow anything that wanted to eat me down. I also doubted he'd try.

Pretty uncharitable of me, but I couldn't help it. I wouldn't let anything eat him though; if I did, I'd never hear the end of it. My raven could spot nothing alive from the air, so I started off along the first side street leading of into our assigned search area. Matt stopped me with an iron hand.

“I go first, lady Muse. Ethan you have the rear. Phil, scout for us.”

With a whispered “got it” Phil was gone; talk about spooked. Sigh; more glass treatment. If there was anything weird going on, I was likely more able to handle it than Matt. After all, there was nothing alive visible here, which left more unpleasant options. The old gas station was in the forefront of my mind.

Matt was in fact, placing himself directly between something he likely could not fight and me. I didn't know whether to hug him or brain him. And where had the hugging thought come from, anyway? That's it, he definitely deserved a braining later, if only for making me think about hugging.

Ethan wasn't talking, which was a plus; his eyes were everywhere, and his hand was stroking his ax like he was a villain in a movie and it was his cat. It looked like a good “boo” would send him screaming back to the road.

I could be really mean here. I was half tempted to. More than half tempted.

Bur I wouldn't. A soft tone would so wonders.

“Hey, Ethan.”

He looked at me, the question in his eyes. I pointed to his ax, and his hand upon it.

“Relax. I know how the place feels. But we need to do this. Just... take a breath, OK?”

I could see it all; he started to get angry at what I was suggesting, then stopped and noticeably backed that up. He was actually taking the advice as intended.

“It's just that a place like this is a prime breeding ground for spooks.”

Well that sounded ominous; but wait, how did he know that? How did any of us know that? What was actually tripping our senses here? That last sense we had that spoke of danger; it was obvious we were all feeling that sense screaming at us, but why? How? We weren't similar anymore, at least not too similar. This felt like a clue. Perhaps a small one, but a clue nonetheless.

“How do you know?”

He lost his temper a bit, and raised his voice accordingly.

“What do you mean how? It just is! Look around you, you daft elf!”

Then the light dawned yet again, just as Matt turned around with a warning glare.

“I get it lady muse... it's the lore of my people that abandoned places like this are a haven for hungry ghosts....”

By people I was fairly certain that he didn't mean humans. I had to bring him back from the brink before he retreated mentally, so I nodded.

“Mine too; we have that much in common. Why though, that's anyone's guess.”

A pointed glance at Matt, who had heard us but whose face only betrayed confusion gave me another piece. There was no lore of his people regarding places like this, just as you'd expect from nice logical humanity. All I had was the knowledge that such lore was there; apparently Ethan felt it strongly enough to remember individual stories? I'd have to ask later, at a more appropriate time.

In the interest of being thorough, I went to one of the homes. The door was collapsed into a bundle of rotted wood to the side, which seemed a little soon for the rest of the decay of the place, as if it started decaying earlier. A look inside without breaking the plane of the doorway was therefore easy to accomplish.

That look revealed a rotting oak table and a few collapsed chairs, rusted pots and utensils, and a crumbling fireplace much like my own back home. The floor, oddly enough, was made of clay tiles that had at one point been painted. Those tiles were cracked and faded.

Even the dirt encrusted cloth doll in the corner looked rotted.

On the one hand, the door looked more dilapidated than anything else; it was almost sawdust. On the other hand, everything else was fairly uniform. Which was odd in the extreme. Given different weather conditions and exposure to the elements, I would expect the stuff in the houses to be better preserved.

That did not seem to be the case, but perhaps I was wrong? Perhaps there was something different here going on?

I did not enter the house. Call it a superstition. I also stopped Matt from entering the house I was looking in.

“No Matt.”

“Why not?”

A good question, and one I didn't really have an answer to. I did have a good deflection though.

“Remember the gas station? Let''s try not to disturb anything inside the homes, alright?”

He thought a bit.

“Got you; guess we can ignore the interiors for now. If we need to we can always check them later. If we don't we are just wasting time doing it.”

Reminded of the time I looked up. Maybe a half hour had passed already, judging from the sun. That seemed a little odd; a little off. Had we really been looking that long?

“Come on, let's hurry and complete a sweep.”

We walked quickly, attempting to take in everything. My raven caught occasional glimpses of Phil around us, or the others moving through. I didn't want him to get too close for fear my own party would get twitchy and kill him.

Unfortunately, all we saw was more of the same. It was beginning to remind me of the story of that old lost colony, Roanoke. I doubted it was the same of course, but everyone was gone, and there as no evidence as to where; nothing was out of place, there was no rubble from an attack, (like by a dinosaur) and no bodies. It was as if everyone who made the town had simply decided to get up and walk off, taking nothing with them.

And that did nothing to solve the issue of what was making us jumpier than cats high on catnip. Though it was suggestive. Maybe the feeling itself was responsible for everyone leaving? ....Right. Leaving ten years ago, when our Georgetown was populated and bustling 5 days ago.

This town did not match my Georgetown. Not only that, but it didn't match my expectations either. The why seemed very important; but there was just nothing around to tell me. Yet I couldn't shake the feeling that there was some presence here; it only got stronger the more we lingered in fact. It was for that reason I kept us out of the houses, I realized.

The town still felt occupied, somehow. By something.

And I was an idiot for not recognizing that feeling earlier.

“You know something elf, I can see it on your face.”

I came back from my musings to the accusation from the peanut gallery.

“I'll tell you later, Ethan. For now let's just focus on completing the pass. And getting out of here. Like now. We have our evidence, or at least some of it. It's time to focus on getting out.”

Matt needed no further urging for haste. And we completed our half circle around the town; according to the position of the sun, we were late by about forty-five minutes. Yet when we arrived, we could just make out the other part of our party at the other end of the street, leisurely headed our way and not waiting impatiently for us.

I gestured with my arms rather manically, but did not yell. Then we waited. For another half and hour easily, we waited for them to walk down the street to us. They did not hesitate or stop to sight see, yet it still took them that long to cross the distance.

Matt caught on before they caught up to us; I had to stop him from joining them. Maybe it wouldn't hurt anything, maybe it would.

Karl spoke first, as soon as they got in range of a normal tone of voice. His voice didn't carry far, even in the silence.

“Alright Lady Muse, what's going on?”

Thank goodness they seemed to have picked up on it too, at least something. How much remained to be seen.

“Later Karl, we need to move now. I'll explain later, once we're clear. Back the way we came, not through the town.”

With a raised eyebrow and a nod, he led the way.

I wanted to run, and I likely wasn't the only one, but his pace forced a walk out of all of us. By the end of that walk I was ready to jump out of my skin; the sun told me it was nearing six-o-clock or so. That position seemed to reverse some in the sky with each step out of the village, until we stood once again on the border of the dead grass, where the newer path around Georgetown was.

On the other side of that, the Sun seemed to be nearing the three-o-clock range. Plenty of daylight left, and possibly another mystery solved. I spoke up first to forestall the inevitable questions.

“Time and possibly space were acting differently in there. I'm all but certain of it. Why I don't know, but it didn't strike me as safe to stay, given that everything affected seemed to be aging rapidly.”

I made as good an inspection of my companions as possible, even as they got the idea themselves and looked each other over. They didn't look any older to me. Pastor Collins said a prayer and made a show of looking at us with glowy eyes.

“We haven't been affected by any sort of aging magic or curse; perhaps we need more exposure for it to affect us.”

Karl interrupted the general freak out session.

“Then let's not give it a chance to; let's assume Lady Muse is right, and get down the path and well out of here before anything happens.”

We stayed to the far side of the trail... and we didn't walk. I checked my gear as best I could, on the off chance it didn't affect people so much as non-living objects. But all my gear seemed perfectly preserved. From what I could tell the gear on everyone else seemed okay too.

I wasn't too worried about myself; elves age slower than humans, a well known fact from fantasy lore everywhere; if my human companions didn't look older, I wouldn't either. Besides I was pretty sure Randolf at the very least would speak up had I suddenly become a hag. My hands still looked unlined, and my body was firm.

“Not that I don't mind the show, but what are you doing?”

Of course Matt, being behind me, had seen everything. I took my hands from my breasts.

“Just checking same as you. I saw you checking the family jewels.”

I was still faced firmly ahead so I could only hear his grin.

“Hey got to keep an eye, and a hand, on the important things. You look fine by the way; better than fine, you vain foxy thing, you. If anything you lost a year or two.”

“You look... unaffected as well.”

The grin I was hearing turned insufferable.

Karl didn't turn around either.

“Shut up. Keep silent and let's focus on distance.”

I was rather awed by the stamina we all displayed; we kept up the not quite headlong flight for a bit over an hour. Phil and Thomas spent their time scouting ahead as fast as could reasonably be deemed safe, and the rest of us booked it.

I was gasping and wheezing with the rest by the time we did stop, but I felt I could go another hour and not drop. I didn't let on though; poor Ethan was doubled over coughing, and looked as if another step would kill him. We were very lucky nothing jumped us.

Or maybe not, we hadn't seen anything alive big enough to jump us, though the insects and squirrels were back at least.

Another check proved we all looked just as old as we had this morning, and no older. Same for our gear. Maybe, just maybe, I could relax. Of course if something was wrong, for this type of thing pastor Collins was our best bet. I wasn't sure I could do anything about freaky time warps or premature aging, but a goddess could reverse either... if pastor Collins could make her care enough.

I on the other hand, would have to peruse my book for answers or fixes on the off chance. Bah, who was I kidding, I'd be doing that the moment we had camp set up.

“Alright, we set up camp here. I want it nice and cozy before dark.”

This time there were no arguments. That feeling of strange occupation, of presence, had left me by now; I wasn't sure when I had lost it. But the area still felt haunted to me. By the looks of things, I wasn't the only one still spooked. No one else wanted to take chances either.

“Lady Muse, you have firewood duty. I want enough to last the night.”

On that Karl and I were in perfect agreement.

“Wait, I don't think Lady Muse should be off alone; I'll go with her.”

Matt's concern was touching, but easily waved off.

“Oh, don't worry about it. I'm not going out there at all. You can watch me to your heart's content.”

Karl gave me the stink eye.

“Don't worry, you'll have your firewood.”

After all, it was only the matter of concentration and focus... and perhaps too much energy for me to waste. The small mud man waited patiently for me to collect myself and give it orders.

“Bring me dead wood no larger than that man's forearm, and no smaller than finger. Continue gathering the wood for the next hour and bring it right to this spot to my left. Carefully stack the wood into a neat pile. After that you may go.”

It nodded, burbled once, then slid it's way off to do as ordered.

“And why did you do that?”

“I saw some Holly and willow that I'm going to use to weave into a few symbols that will offer us some protection from the supernatural; ghosts and other spooks, such as you might find in a town like we just left. I'd rather have that done before dark. Since I wouldn't be able to do both before dark, and since an elemental isn't likely to be attacked by a ghost, it goes out and I stay.”

He sighed, taking in Ethan's hopeful look at the mention of protective symbols. No doubt he was cursing our superstitious selves.

“Makes sense I guess. Provided that mud man can collect enough wood. Alright then, get to work on those charms.”

Rolling my eyes so he'd know exactly what I felt as I snapped off the crisp salute, I went to the nearest willow tree. I hated to tear limbs off live trees and such branches would be less effective in any case, but this next part was going to be embarrassing. So I waited until no one was watching or listening in, leaned up to the trunk, and hummed a certain song as softly as I could, convincing the tree to part with a few branches in exchange for the rapid growth of others.

A fair exchange for a tree, as it were.

Once done with the willow, it was on to collect the Holly. I turned around after crooning to it to find an audience. For once though, they did not seem interested in making wisecracks. I settled in to work, weaving the very supple limbs together in a specified manner while the other camp chores were done, weaving my own magic into each in turn as my hands worked.

Pastor Collins came by as I was working on the third one, working his own brand of magic over me. He was checking us all for various evil influences, but I couldn't spare the focus to see exactly what he was doing.

I had one for each cardinal direction by the time I felt my elemental dispel; it had made a neatly stacked mound of logs and branches almost as tall as I was in an hour; easily enough to last the night. The ground wasn't all that even but none of us wanted to go back into the woods, so the firepit and fire were started right on the trail itself.

I didn't smell any rain, which was a good thing, because between the drain from the elemental, and the charms themselves, I was pretty much flat on my back. I barely managed to hang them properly, and collapsed on my half unpacked sleeping bag. Matt was of course the first to notice.

“you OK?”

“No; help me unroll this thing?”

He helped while I took a long pull of water from my canteen. As soon as he had it spread out I flopped on it, breaking out some granola from my stores. I was pretty sure none of us wanted to test eating anything from what could be a haunted wood.

“Well pastor? What's the good word?”

“No curses, no strange illnesses or ailments, no ill effects at all from what I can tell. There was a faint echo of an echo of something, but I don't know what it was. All I know is She let me know that while it could have been very bad for us had we stayed, nothing is wrong with us now.”

Of course She meant his goddess. Whom he had asked directly... and whom had answered. Guess I really didn't need to worry about any crisis of faith issues anymore. That in an of itself was another clue. At least, I thought it was.

After all, it could mean that pastor Collins was 'going native'. Perhaps have a goddess breathing down his neck added just enough pressure for such a thing. And perhaps I was way off base, and a colossal jerk for thinking such a thing.

“So what did we learn by viewing that town, and why did we risk our lives going into it?”

Ugh. Of course Karl would ask now that we were somewhat safe. And I wouldn't be able to pass out until I answered him.

“We learned that time did not flow in the township of Georgetown at the same rate it does for us. Why, I don't know. We also learned that either the people moved away from Georgetown before this happened, or were not affected somehow. We also learned that the Georgetown we remember and the one that we just saw earlier are not the same.

Before this, we saw towns that were parallel to our own, and people we knew. Georgetown was different. Why, I can't say. I'm not willing to stay there long enough to uncover all the answers that place undoubtedly has. I'm not sure what the cost of staying would be, but I'm sure I don't want to find out.

We also learned that some of us have an actual other history jammed sideways into our heads. Ask Ethan if you want to know more. Well no rain tonight, so I'm just going to sleep. Don't mess with the charms, and wake me if WW3 starts.”

And amidst incredulous stares, I did.

I came back to the land of the living slowly, amidst half remembered nightmares involving strange spectral phrases and broken things. Almost as if those same dream creatures or whatever they were refused to let me go.

But come to I eventually did, to find Matt and Phil both watching over the camp from opposite sides. A double watch I approved of, but why didn't they wake me to take my turn? I probably could have used the break from... whatever had been in my head last night; any concrete images had vanished like wisps of fog with full wakefullness.

Upon closer inspection; both Matt and Phil both looked pale and wild-eyed. The others were tossing and turning in their sleep, and the wards I created last night were glowing ever so faintly in the pre-dawn light. Another moment and I'd have been unable to see it as the sun broke over us all,

I wouldn't have missed the heavy, heaving sighs from both our sentries however. Something was up, and I really hoped it wasn't what I thought it was. They both gave a guilty start, having been focused on the surroundings away from camp, and more than likely, on their own thoughts as well.

“So what did I miss? What has you so spooked?”

Matt answered me, Phil was busy waking up everyone else. There was no waiting in pleasant languor this morning.

“About 3 or 4 am, just as we settled into our watch; we started hearing noises. Distant, near silent, but audible to both of us clearly from across camp. That was about the time everyone started tossing and turning.”

Noises was in no way clear enough; and from the way his eyes rolled, he knew it... and was dreading my coming question.

“What kind of noises?”

Phil broke in with a laconic tone that hid his fear and relief well; not entirely of course, but well. Something had definitely happened.

“Oh just voices and sounds of the world at first; things like cars and trucks and planes. After that, it was mostly screaming.”

That didn't sound good at all.

“Screaming?”

“Long, loud, wet and throat tearing... for a solid half hour or so, multiple voices, all screaming. That and your wards glowing.”

Well what the hell?!?

“Why didn't you wake anyone up?”

Matt fielded that one.

“We actually tried. None of you would wake, not for anything. So we settled in, tried to watch for more physical threats and hoped for the best.”

Well that explains the relief at seeing the sun rise; only all too well. Made me more relieved to see every one else getting up; haunted and knowing looks between them or not. As for me, I immediately started working on my calligraphy.

The others were finished packing up by the time I had the signs ready, bright and dry with bright red painted words and borders. Each one had a warning that there was danger in the area ahead, and in the event that someone absolutely had to travel that way, to bypass the town we'd just seen. In as many languages as I could, which turned out to be six. I could only hope it was enough.

The kobolds we met two days ago, for example, might well be too stupid to read. But they had to survive somehow so maybe their instincts were better? Orcs I knew were superstitious and would take the warnings seriously. So would elves or dwarves, simply by knowing that I (an elf) wrote it.

Humans would likely ignore it, or worse, go into the town itself to prove there was nothing to fear. But I had to try. Maybe I could save the smart ones at least. Karl looked on, and I could sense the approval. In fact while I was painting those signs no one bothered me. I posted the first and started walking along the border in the woods itself. I had to cover as much ground as possible.

“Muse, wait!”

I looked back to find Matt running up. He swiped half the signs from my hands with a wink.

“Faster this way. I'll take this side.”

A sign every 20 paces meant that I had covered about as much area as a football field. Any further back into the undergrowth and no one would see the signs anyway, no matter how brightly painted. I was tempted to cast some sort of attention gathering magic on them... but I didn't know any. In my opinion, that was a rather large hole in my magical education, and one I should remedy as soon as possible.

After all, magical attention getting could be the first component to magical distraction spells, which would be an alternative to killing people indiscriminately. Something some people might go for, or even enjoy... but it wasn't me.

Thanks to Matt, we were ready to go after only a half hour. While Tom was tapping his foot, clearly anxious to be gone, and Ethan was pale and staring back in the direction of the ghost town, but Karl was patient. He didn't say a word as we came trotting back from opposite directions, just motioned everyone to fall in. Which we did.

I had a debate about taking my charms, as they cost me quite a bit in power and materials to make. But if I took so much as one, it compromised the circle. And that circle might save a life, or even several. So I left them.

The slips holding the charms wouldn't even degrade in the weather; not even the worst rainstorm. I did good work. And I carefully stomped down on my feelings of regret over leaving them. I could always make more. Well, at least one full batch more. Hopefully we would get to a town where I could restock some of my precious metals.

I had to work pretty hard to keep up; the pace being set away from the gloomy forest and towards the relatively less gloomy forest was almost a jog. Ethan was even trying to push the pace a little, by jogging himself. As for me I didn't think it necessary. The phantom sounds and images had dissipated like so much mist in the sunlight. It was safe.

Well, ghost safe, at any rate. Though come to think of it, we hadn't seen anything alive since yesterday. To be fair, we hadn't been looking all that hard, but we'd only seen birds. Birds I was not seeing or hearing so far this morning. My own raven did not count.

Nothing scrabbling about in the underbrush either. Plenty of insects though.

And then just as I was about to quote a movie where an alien comes down to Earth to hunt people in true one-liner fashion, a flock of starlings took off. A large flock, several hundred strong, and head directly away from the ghost town, as we were. My ears started to twitch with all the sudden sounds of re-awakened life.

No one else seemed to be catching on, but everyone had breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing the starlings. I deemed it safe to let my raven scout. Of course no sooner did that happen than he had to dodge a hawk, going after breakfast. My raven was smart enough to dodge at least. The starlings, not so much, but that was nature, and no concern of mine.

The road widened out and signs of recent use became more frequent. Fresh cart wheels and spoor from beasts of burden, mostly. I wondered when the last time I had seen an ox was. I would certainly see one soon; that was ox crap sitting right on the road.

The forest also started to clear, but not into plains. Instead the trees faded into worked land, with wheat, corn, and beans on either side as far as the eye could see. Broken up by houses dotted amongst the fields like stars in the night sky. Each field had a fence or posts marking the boundary of it, and for the most part they were small compared to the farms I was used to. Not that I had seen the status of farming lately, I'd been too busy.

But now I could see the image brought home; without the labor saving devices of our machines (our past, I thought with a sense of irony), without tractors and intricately made metal plows and the other things we had developed, there were many more farmers needed to work a given plot of land than we had been used to for at least a century.

And if a Feudal system was back in place around here, then most of them would be starving come winter.

But I had seen no evidence of that in the last two towns; there was very much a sense of 'you earn it, it's yours' about food and goods both from the last two (inhabited) towns. but if this situation we were in was persistent, how long would that last? The older systems from earlier eras were very much the ancestors of modern day protection rackets. Not so good in the 21st century, where people's rights were respected. Not so good for dark age or early Renaissance tech and systems, when rights only belong to the strong.

I'd know when we hit the first city; which should be tomorrow given our pace. There would be no village within easy reach today, unless geography were markedly different.

With a mental shrug, I waved to those farmers throwing up hesitant waves our direction. If they were friendly to people they no longer recognized, that was a good sign. Of course, the general settled nature of the land without any form of oversight for things coming out of the woods was a little odd, but much as I wanted to break ranks and go ask about it, the look on Karl's face stopped me.

His face was taut and thoughtful. Come to think of it, the farmers stayed seemed to be staying well out of yell range... or bow shot. Wonder why that was? Matt just looked worried, when he looked back my direction. Ethan was oddest of all; as pale as he had been when back in the haunted forest. I really hoped he didn't know anything I didn't. The farmers I had seen thus far were all human, but surely that was just coincidence, right?

There had to be Elf and Dwarf farmers somewhere, right?

For that matter, there had to be Elven and Dwarven controlled lands. It was a fantasy world given. So where were they? I didn't have a clue, save for one small nagging feeling that spoke to me almost like the old movie I vaguely remembered; “Go west, young man, go west.” Except I wasn't a man anymore. What I needed to find, and hadn't really been able to before I left home, was a map.

A map, like any of the books I had owned, would have been altered to show the new world we were now a part of, right? So if so, then a map would answer many of the questions about where we were and how we got there. It might even answer a few on how this all happened.

But maps were usually more rare than books if this world followed ours in tech level and such. Only the truly wealthy of the age could afford well drawn hand made maps. But then, if a map was a map was a map, and simply changed... wouldn't we have several per person just lying around? I mean Rand McNally printed maps should be just as good now as anything else. But most of those had been stored in car glove compartments... and cars were horses now, right?

I missed seeing any horses with glove compartments, let alone maps. Argh but this was infuriating! For every thing I remembered, every idea considered, it felt as if there was a counter to it. And I bet, I just bet, that Karl already considered the map thing, and if I open my mouth I'd look like an idiot. And of course here I was, worrying myself silly over stupid thoughts I couldn't answer right now. I was doing more than looking like an idiot lately.

Pulling out my journal with the intention to sketch and make notes on my questions brought up another of the same; namely, we all still knew how to read, didn't we? Literacy was pretty much taken for granted in our society, with 98% of all of us knowing how to do it. I knew how, and in more than one language. Matt knew how. Pastor Collins had to know how, in order to read the tenets of his faith. But did we all?

Yet another question to put into the journal for another time. Hopefully a time not too distant.

The further we hiked, the more settled the land got. The less wild. And the more uneasy I felt. So I almost jumped when the men in armor appeared in the distance, still perhaps a mile away when my eyes picked them out. They were fully armed and armored, wearing long chain mail shirts with greaves, and sported spears, short-swords, and large daggers.

There were twelve of them, and they were being led by a man on horseback clad in splint mail and bearing a large curved sword. A scimitar perhaps, but it looked a bit too large to be one. It was hard to tell at this distance. They seemed to be dressed alike, as a cohesive party, but it was hard to tell. But then again...

“You all see that?”

Karl responded.

“See what?”

“The party of armed men on the road ahead of us. They look like uniformed troops.”

Seeing the hint of hope in their eyes I cursed my traitor tongue and amended my words.

“Well, troops from the dark ages or so at least. Not U.S. army or anything awesome like that.”

Seeing the fleeting hope dash itself on the rocks of reality hurt, just a little. But still I had to steer this conversation to fruitful ground.

“Well at least now we know why the farmers don't seem too worried, I think.”

“Oh?”

I nodded almost to myself, watching carefully and making sure before I replied.

“Yep, no one is making any moves to run or avoid them, so they aren't likely to be criminals. Uniform equipment marks them out as an armed force, and the greetings from the farmers ahead of us marks them as friendly.”

Or at least friendly to the farmers. I tended to doubt they were dangerous to us on principle, but these were interesting times, after all. I certainly wouldn't discount it.

“Well do we relocate and let them go by, or do we walk on?”

Matt put it nicely, but I could tell he wanted to hide. It was pointless though, and I proved it by pointing at the farmers, who had been keeping track of us the entire time; no doubt in order to stay away from us. But they knew where we were now, and unless we wanted to commit murder and flee they would be able to direct any pursuit our way.

Karl hadn't even asked; he just kept squinting forward with a frown creasing his face. I don't think his eyes were in the best shape, it was pretty obvious he couldn't see the troops and wanted to. Come to think of it. It looked like I was the first to see them, and they still weren't in range. Oops, couldn't everyone else see this far? Yet another question for the book.

At any rate, it took a good fifteen minutes of both of us marching towards each other before we met. And well before that we all got a much better look at them.

Their armor was all shiny steel chain mail without a single speck of rust. They also all wore matching helmets, full one with a face cut into them and a nose piece. I wasn't sure what they were called, but they reflected the sun as well as any mirror. They had the same burnished greaves and armguards. They were even roughly the same height (too darn tall, or about 6 feet each) and their weapons could have been stamped from a mold. Unfortunately I couldn't make out much in the way of features, as the helms prevented that.

Their leader however, didn't wear one. His bare head was open to the sun and his hair bleached blonde from it's rays. At least I assumed that was what it was from... it certainly looked like it. His face was open but creased with old cares, but his blue eyes sparkled with vitality. He could have been anywhere from 25 to 45; it was just hard to tell.

He didn't look to be suspicious of us, just riding right up on that large shaggy corn colored roan of his. His splint mail gathered more light than the chain mail though, and I was forced to squint my eyes almost shut when he got close. His sword felt as if it had power, and up close was just as big an enigma as it was from a distance.

They all wore matching emblem patches on their sleeves, a shield and crossed spears (which seemed a little generic to me). The man on the horse also wore another patch that was three simple yellow lines. So he was the officer of course, as if I needed more confirmation.

They all had less road dust on them than we did, and hid their curiosity somewhat well, though I seemed to be drawing every eye. Could they see my ears or something? My hair should be covering them....

“Well met friends! And who might you all be?”

I really should have suspected that big, bluff, hale and hearty type voice and forced tone. The smile didn't fully reach his eyes, even though his soldiers seemed to be keeping their weapons well away from us and any misunderstandings.

As I had been told to do, I let Karl do the talking. Let him screw things up with the locals, I wouldn't care. Much.

“We are travelers from the village of Solace, beyond Shrewsberry; an expedition to discover what the hell exactly is going on, basically. I am Karl, this is Phil, Tom, Ethan, pastor Collins, Randolf, Matt, and Lady Muse.”

Understanding crossed his face like the sunlight itself as he shifted in his saddle.

“Ahh, another one of those. Well you're as welcome as the rest of them, but I can't promise you'll get much in the way of answers. I'm Harry, and this is my squad of merry men. We all used to be police for Toledo, which you are not far from. I must admit to being curious, since you are the first expedition to come from this particular direction. We've had several from the North, South, and East already.”

“Well a dozen or so miles back is the town of Snead. It's... well, in a nutshell, it's haunted somehow. If anyone else made it through before us, I would be very much surprised. We only made it because of our mage here.”

He spared me a second appraising look and a courtly bow while he was still on his horse, which is quite the trick.

“Ahh yes, the famous Lady Muse, who commands the elements. You have quite the reputation my dear! I see at least some of it is well deserved.”

Was he flirting with me? It certainly sounded like it. And that was all kinds of shudder worthy. But hopefully I was misreading that. And wait a sec, how would I have a reputation of any kind past my home town? I had been to Toledo before, but no one there knew me from Adam. And he knew I had some control of the elements. Certainly sounded like he knew me.

“You know of me? How, exactly?”

His hearty grin gained an undertone of someone who knew a secret that he wouldn't share.

“Well, somehow, the people who can work true magic at a certain level are known to us all. Tell me, have you heard of Stick?”

And like a light bulb in my mind, the image went off; a stick thin old man given to wearing flowing gray robes who knew some of the secrets of conjuring and enchanting. He worked out of an old pile of bricks tower in the middle of downtown Toledo.

Of course, Toledo didn't have such a tower last time I was here, but I knew it did now, with the same certainty that I knew the sun rose in the East. Which would have been confusing I guess if it didn't anymore.

“I see your point.”

“I take it you have not had much in the way of more worldly interactions as yet; those of us in larger cities spent much of our first day thoroughly confused, as multiple associations such as that one were made one after the other. For example, Toledo does not have a mayor anymore... we have a duke. Which I will now direct you to see. So that all your questions may be answered.”

“Not going to take us personally?”

He shook his head, smile still in place.

“Not at all, just take this badge here' – he handed it to Karl after a short hesitation; I could tell he wanted to hand it to me – 'and when you make it to the gates hand the guards that and tell them Harry sent you. Chances are they would let you in anyway, but I want to make sure. The more magic users we have working on why this happened, the better, to my thinking. After all, if this isn't magic, then what is?”

Something about that last statement struck me as wrong, but I conceded the point until later. I caught Karl motioning us out of the corner of my eye. I looked over to find my group already stepping to one side of the road, so I hurried to do the same so I wouldn't look like a jerk.

“Alright, just follow the road then I take it?”

“Yes, just follow the road and show the badge at the gate. If you have no further question, we will just be on our way? We need to patrol this road and see where it leads. Orders are orders are orders, after all.”

Wait, hadn't he heard us?

“But A good 6 hours from here, you'll hit the boundaries of Snead. We weren't kidding, it's haunted somehow. We even posted signs. It's dangerous.”

“I'm sure it is, but there are towns and outpost that belong to the great kingdom of Ohier there, and our orders are to find them or find out what's become of them.”

The kingdom of Ohier; a somewhat back woods kingdom of the lands of man, stretching to the border of wild country and then... elven lands? So we were far to the East of elf lands? What did that mean for places like California and Oregon? Did other places have Elf lands, like Britain or France?

I shook my head clear as Harry looked on, amused.

“Remembering where you come from?”

“Sort of. Look, if you absolutely must go past the signs we laid out, camp at the campsite we used, the charms should protect you, and then book it using the path, not the road. And by all that's good in the world, don't stop until you hit Shrewsberry, even should you find yourselves traveling at night.”

That took the wind out of his sails. I felt gratified to finally get past his happy go lucky demeanor. And then ashamed of feeling that; I was a horrible person sometimes.

“Any other hints of advice?”

“Yes; beware of dinosaurs. We had one attack us, and it required sorcery to defeat, at least easily defeat. Came right through our town and tried to eat the residents, first day. If you see one before it sees you, hide.”

He nodded, glancing back at his men, whose visible features were beginning to look a little green.

“Anything else?”

I shook my head. I wanted to tell them about my suspicions on the roaming orcs and the zombie encounter, but I didn't think his men would be able to take it after everything else.

“Um, no, that's everything. Good luck, Harry. See you again soon.”

You never know, he might survive. Though with the lack of magic users on their side (I sensed only a few small charms and the sword, and nothing the troops wore screamed 'mage' to me) I suspected they were going to die. Though if they made it to Solace, our town would take good care of them.

And with a jaunty wave he led his now much more slowly marching band of merry men off in pursuit of adventure and destiny. Which may or may not include a fast, grisly death. Once off the road we continued our own trek.

I rapidly noticed right off that the farmers in the local vicinity were no longer steering clear of us, and when I waved more than a few of them returned it with some show of enthusiasm. I was gladdened that the farmers were paying attention and smarter than they looked. That and the fact that they trusted their own armed forces or militia or whatever they were now.

That said, it gave me hope that now when I gave the warning I needed to give, it would be respected and welcomed. It took almost no time at all to single out the one I thought I needed to find; an older man with gray hair directing a few others in the tilling of a field with old school rakes and hoes.

“Hold on guys. Need to do something really quick.”

I broke ranks and vaulted the fence separating the road from the farmland, confusing my party. At least they stopped. And they shouldn't be confused, they had seen the same things I had, for craps sake.

As soon as I had vaulted the fence all work had ceased, and the old man and his staff? Family? There did seem to be a bit of resemblance there – were watching me, tools held in not quite firm grips and not quite hostile stances. In response I kept my hands in plain sight and spoke first.

They were typical of the people I'd seen in the role recently. Lined and careworn faces along with not quite clean hair, dusty clothes and wary expressions. One of the workers was a girl no more than eight years old, who was staring at me with something more akin to awe than caution.

“Hello.”

The old man's response was terse and just shy of rude in tone.

“Hello. Can I help you?”

I had to say ti all quick and at once, or it would likely be misinterpreted. So I rushed it.

“Yes, I was hoping you would do me a favor and pass on a warning to the people around here. Almost a day's travel back west along the road is the town of Snead. It's haunted somehow. I'd strongly advise against heading that direction past the signs I posted near the road. If you could tell all your friends and neighbors, I'd really appreciate it.”

His face had opened up by the time I finished and took a breath. His family (I was sure now) had followed suit.

“We can do that. Thank you for the warning.”

“You're welcome. There is a safe path if you have business or family beyond Snead; you just have to be careful to stick to the trail and not enter the town itself. We came from Solace ourselves, and made it through in good shape. But it is something to be aware of. Good luck in your endeavors”

And the old man bowed. Literally bowed to me. The little girl was doing her best fish impression and reaching an obviously forgotten grimy hand my way. It was time to get out of here before the Twilight Zone gremlins came in.

“Thank you, Lady. Good day to you, and I'll see the word gets out.”

I wasted no time, throwing a 'thanks' over my shoulder as I ran. Not the best speed I could make, but I wanted some distance before the family started worshiping me as their new goddess or something. I could still feel their eyes on my back, and it was giving me a rash.

Of course the peanut gallery had things to say when I got back to them.

“So, what was that all about? Wanted to tell them you like their banjos? Or admire the crude tools?”

Thomas was a jerk. And classist, if that was a term.

“If you must know, I was warning them, same as I did the squad we just met. The last thing I want to have happen is some random kid or farmer go into the woods chasing a horse or something, and get eaten by the town of Snead somehow. The old guy is likely one of the respected members of the community and will spread the word.”

He snickered and I knew I was in for it.

“Oh? I just thought you were flirting with your new potential boyfriend.”

What the literal hell. Was he 12 or something? Was I traveling with children now? Phil sealed the deal:

“You certainly looked like you were flirting; 'Good luck, Harry! Come back soon so I can rustle your jimmies!'”

I didn't even know what that meant, but I knew it couldn't be anything good. I could guess at least. Every single day, it was something. I might well have to give one of them the toad treatment, just to teach them the meaning of respect. Karl shut that thought down.

“Enough you morons. Let's just go. The sooner we get going the sooner we can get our answers.”

And he started off at a pace just under a jog, forcing us to shut up and follow. Ethan clapped a hand to my back as he walked by in a comradely gesture that caused me to stumble. He didn't grin at that though. Friends in adversity, I guess. Matt was a little more gentle, but did the same thing, for the same reason. At least his wouldn't leave a bruise.

We walked in time with the creeping sun, silently. I for one, was enjoying the fresh scents of sage and wildflowers in the brisk breeze and bright light unobstructed by any trees. I didn't mind the gloom of the forest, but there was no substitute for the warmth and light. I really wanted to just lie in it and soak it up for an hour or so, but I knew that would go over well.

This area actually seemed pretty safe; at least nothing jumped out at us. The farmers didn't seem to be worried at all, going about business as usual; well as usual as their business could be without tractors or power tools.

And then just as the sun set, we came upon a break in the monotony of fields dirt and road dust. An oasis in the desert, a comforting glade in a forest, a sure sign of comforting civilization... An inn.

I didn't see an inn. I saw a hot meal that hopefully wasn't burned on one side, and a hot bath. Just a few days stewing in my own juices, even if I could keep both myself and my clothes clean with magic, was enough to swear me off camping forever. After all, it was a waste of power, and nothing beat a nice soak to clear your head.

“Do you need a moment to wax poetic or something there, princess?”

“Screw you, Phil.”

Jerk probably liked being dirty or something.

The building itself was humble but well kept, brick and stucco affair colored a light gray. It was nearly spotless, and a kid was currently washing some dirt stains off the wall facing us while grumbling; the horse that was no doubt responsible for the chore looking on innocently. That horse was one of two total, and well decked in barding and bright cloth. The other was still bearing an old cracked saddle and little else. Both had clean lines and good endurance, but the one in barding was clearly more strong than the plow horse.

And how did I know that?

The roof of the inn was thatch, but there wasn't a hint of the rotten odor one associated with old thatch, and the door was well fit to the frame, allowing little light to escape. The door opened into a well-lit lamp filled room; smoke infused, but clean. The was a sodden mat before an actual wooden floor which was somewhat clean, and the place was cheered by hangings and tapestries. Those too were somewhat less dingy than I would expect.

All in all, it was a pleasant surprise.

I had to whack the morons; only a few days, and they already forgot how to wipe their feet! I stared them all down until they did so, filing past me one by one. I followed suit and walked to the table Karl chose. It had a good view of the front door, and the door to the kitchen, and was next to the one that could only be the owner of the well-dressed horse outside.

He was middle-aged and lean, with some kind of roguish musketeer style uniform in bright reds and eye stinging whites. The broad floppy hat was off of course, and he was nursing an ale around his eloquently waxed mustache. A sword stood propped at his side... and it had seen use. His dagger, a fine yet dainty thing, was currently buried up to it's hilt in a haunch of mutton. The entire haunch. He was going to get fat, eating all that.

He watched us all go by, and I could swear he was grinning behind that mug of his when I passed.

Karl was rousting some poor dirt covered farmers out of their seats at the table. Well at least that's what I thought until I caught the glint of coinage pass hands. So he was paying them to move. That I could approve of at least. Being the conscience of a group of violence prone guys was pretty stressful. I had to be vigilant.

The two farmers left for the bar, smiles on their faces. No doubt to get beer or ale or whatever.

Randolf looked sour about it, but it wasn't his money. He would probably have bullied them out of the table though, something to watch. I was beginning to feel like a herder of cats, or a babysitter to troubled teens. Or something similar, since I didn't have experience with either. But for now Karl seemed to have things well in hand, so it was time to get to the important things. Before sitting down I had to find a waitress, or barmaid, or whatever I was supposed to call them now. I wasn't about to yell for one, as literally everyone else was doing. In a place this busy, that got noisy quickly.

“Be right back Karl.”

I waited by the door to the kitchen. And soon enough a barmaid I liked the look of strode confidently by. Long dark brown hair, and fresh face that still had some baby fat to it, and a figure that wouldn't have looked out of place in a magazine that no longer existed. She was wearing a white shirt chased with lace and cut to show as much of her cleavage as she could get away with, a pair of leather pants that she probably had to use mechanical aids to fit herself into every morning... and no bra.

She probably made tons of money in tips.

“Excuse me.”

She stopped right away, clearly busy and flustered, but polite. The mark of a true service industry professional, and I was impressed.

“Yes?”

“Do you have a bath on premises?”

She grinned.

“Of course we do! You go to that door there at the far wall. Walk right through that. It'll lead you outside. Go to the Shed on the right, and knock. A guy named Gar will answer. Don't let him frighten you, he's a pussycat. Anyway he let's you in and takes a position by the door. You go inside the inner door while he makes sure you aren't disturbed. No need to worry about him, that's his job and he takes it very seriously. Once there, it's all pretty self explanatory, and it's all self service at the moment. Once out, you pay Gar and you're done.”

Made sense that it would be self service; they seemed pretty shorthanded for the crowd. Besides I wasn't sure I'd be comfortable with another woman in a bath with me... or anyone else for that matter. I pointed back at my 'dauntless companions.'

“Alright, I'd like to rent a room, and pay for the first round for that table over there.”

“Alright I can do the round alright, but don't you want to see the room? I'm not sure I have the time....”

“No, You pick it. I trust your judgment already. Just don't hit me with a drafty one, please. I get cold easily.”

From the way her face brightened I think I just made her night. She was into the kitchen with a wave and a bounce in her step. I headed out the door indicated, noting Both Karl and Matt's eyes watching me go. I gave them a wave of my own, a subtle signal that all was well.

The yard behind the inn was a dirty mess, a large hundred feet enclosed space with free roaming chickens and a very fragrant pig pen off to the side. There was a stable parked at the other end, and I hoped it was in better condition. It shared the same whitewash stucco and was just as clean as the front. That poor kid must be running all over the place with his bucket every day.

The wall was a little warped but in good repair and about eight feet tall, and a smaller fence walled a garden off. There was a trail off into the forest. And there, right next to the stable and as far away from the pig stench as it was possible to get while still remaining in the yard, was my target. It was also coated in white. The fence did look sturdy enough in construction to at least slow a dinosaur down, and the building? Outhouse? Looked sturdy enough to hold out a siege in.

I had dinosaurs on the brain. I needed to work on that.

I knocked on the sturdy looking door, which gave a sturdy sounding echo.

“Hello, Gar?” I was told you have a bath in there?”

The door opened, and the largest humanoid bipedal thing I have ever seen to date hunched over to squint at me. He was green, and tusked, and his shoulders were so wide I half suspected that the building had been constructed around him; surely he couldn't fit those through the door? He was dressed in rough white cotton pants, had no shirt, and bore a club that I suspected weighed more than I did. To my credit I kept the flinch small. Orcs did not have the best reputation, and he was huge; large enough to give a dinosaur pause.

Yep, definitely needed to work on the dinosaur thing.

“Gar?”

He nodded with a smile that, while menacing in a way, oddly enough did put me at ease as he stepped aside and gestured me in. Once inside even though the inside was a near match to the outside in cleanliness, it was still easy to tell it was a bathroom. There were benches with holes cut in intervals lining the room, and I could just make out the sound of running water underneath us through them. There were also buckets placed periodically around the room, with rags in them. I really hoped they didn't re-use those.

I sure as hell wasn't going to use those. That little spell I knew that cleaned me was looking more and more like the greatest thing since sliced bread. The smell could have been worse, though I suppose it could have been better as well. Gar motioned me towards the door in back and spoke, a voice like two rocks grinding into each other.

“The cost is two copper, paid when you get out. Since you're alone you know it's serve yourself?”

I nodded.

“Alright. There is a skylight in the chamber, but no windows. If you scream, I'll come running and hammer whatever frightened you into the dirt; though... if you scream because of a spider, please don't yell at me if I bust the door down. I'll not take that well.”

“I won't scream because of a spider.”

It was true, I had no issue with spiders. Corpse bugs were a different creature entirely.

“The small lock will keep most out, the bigger lock is to keep me out, in case you're worried about me. I won't barge in on you unless you scream, but some people like the extra security.”

His look said it all; he knew some people were wary of him because he was an Orc, and was not only used to it, but well past blaming anyone over it.

The next room had a door even more ponderous and sturdy than the outside door was. The small lock was a bolt lock as big as my middle finger that you engaged with your foot and went in the floor. The big lock was a wooden bar the size of my arm that was cradled by slots and slid into place. It looked like it could take a day's worth of pounding with a battering ram to get through it. I slid the smaller lock in place, but left the bigger one.

I wanted to trust.

The room itself had no less than 4 tubs, oblong hollowed out tree trunks... or possibly the same trunk, with tables next to each. There was a rack of clean towels, and a basket hamper for the dirty ones under it. The tables each held soap; the color suggested pine tar. At the far corner there was a trough, buckets floating in it. There was steam rising from it too. The floor was stone, and constructed at a slant so as to drain the water towards the back, where a grated drain sat. The floor itself was dry, indicating how much this room had been used today. The walls were painted a nice muted yellow, matching the light.

I checked the skylight before starting to disrobe. It was clear of lurkers... and clean, which was a nice touch. Someone should tip that poor kid. I wasted no time at all, then realized I probably should have dipped the water into the tub first. Oh well, no one was watching, so no one would know.

As tempted as I was, I didn't cheat. Moving the water one bucket at a time would save energy, and I saw no reason to waste it. The only thing I wouldn't compromise was setting my clothes to clean themselves, cloak included. I wasn't packing them away dirty. It only took about fifteen minutes of bailing to fill the tub with piping hot water. The table next to the water trough had a number of oils to make the water smell better (and by proxy, the person in the water) and I chose one made from cactus and melon. I pointed my eyes to the skylight and the sliver of sun.

And then I soaked.

Drifting along, I soaked in the water so long that I pruned, and there was a gentle knock on the door.

“Yes? Does someone need let in?”

“No Ma'am, I was simply checking to make sure you were alright. You've been in there some time.”

I blinked. Come to think of it, it had probably been about an hour.

“Ah, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you, I was just soaking, and kind of zoned out. I'm on my way out.”

His voice came through again, slightly panicked.

“No! No, ma'am, you don't have to get out on my account. I just wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

“Don't worry Gar, you didn't disturb me or chase me out. I should just get out before my friends start looking for me.”

I got out and dried off with a towel that was so clean it glowed in the dying light. Taking my spare outfit out of my pack I threw it on. There was no mirror so I couldn't really check the results, but I brushed my hair anyway, mainly to help it dry. Putting my towel in the basket, put everything I used in its place. Then I put my boots on, shouldered my pack, shot the bolt and opened the door.

Gar, at his place by the other door, stared at me with his mouth open. What? Had I forgotten something? I took inventory; nope, all there. I was properly dressed. He closed it soon enough when I brought up a concern.

“Um, I wasn't sure how to empty the tub. I didn't want to try it by bucket, and....”

“Oh! It's no problem ma'am. I handle that job. Was everything to your liking?”

“Yes it was, thank you. So how much do I owe you?”

“Three copper.”

I handed him five. So odd that copper was now a viable medium of exchange again; I mean pennies looked like copper, but they weren't. And the nice pleasant experience was worth the copper. So I handed him five as I thanked him.

“Thank you for the nice bath.”

He actually blushed and stammered.

“Th-thank you ma'am.”

As soon as the door closed behind me I skipped a bit; I couldn't resist. The inn was just as loud as it was an hour ago, and even darker. Coming fresh from outside the pungent smoke odor of the tar soaked torches was even stronger.

The table was still full of my companions. There was also an earthenware pitcher of beer, and plenty of plates with bits and debris of some form of dinner no doubt. There was also a plate of some sort of bird; a grouse? And peas. Placed in front of an empty spot on a bench, complete with Phil staring longingly at it.

I settled right in with a smile. Matt started off the questioning.

“So where were you? You took quite a while. We've already been through dinner and a pitcher; we had to order for you.”

“Was taking a bath. I highly recommend the facilities for current company, by the way.”

“You saying I stink?”

“You saying you don't?”

“....Well played.”

Phil had to join in. It was clear they were all at least two sheets to the wind already. A bit odd, was it really beer in that pitcher?

“But don't you use that spell of yours to clean up every day?”

I nodded.

“Of course, but a good soak is a good soak. Haven't any of you ever wanted to just soak in a tub?”

They looked at each other, silent. Traitors. I knew they were holding out on me. Then Randolf, surprisingly, bailed me out.

“Sure. Especially after a game or a twelve hour shift. Eases the muscles.”

He took a drink, daring the others to contradict him. For my part I tried dinner; it was good. Almost five star good, considering the locale and background issues. The gourmet restaurant business must be suffering like no other under the current problems; it had to be hard to make great dishes out of monster guts.

The waitress was back and by my elbow before I noticed her, placing a large iron key and a silver goblet of wine on the table in front of me.

“Hey! Just heard from Gar you were back in, sorry about the dinner being cold. Your room is number four on the third floor. The wine is the best we have, let me know if you want something else instead, OK?”

And like a tornado she was gone again, with only the impression of a verbal smile lingering in the air. Just watching her made me tired, not that I saw where she had gone.

“Well, the good stuff. Somehow you rate the good stuff. Makes me wonder....”

I knew what he was wondering, and he could stew. Karl rescued him from my no doubt visible wrath.

“No, just something I ordered for Muse. She isn't getting comped, though the bit about the room was interesting.”

“I simply asked her to pick a room for me that wasn't too drafty. She should know what the bad rooms are, and I didn't want to get cold.”

“Makes sense to me. Kind of regretting I didn't do that while I had the chance.”

Weird, support from the dwarf.

“Thank you Ethan, but why can't you do it now?”

He burped before burying his face in his cup. Then he replied.

“Because I'm a bit too drunk to walk, darlin'.”

I rolled by eyes, taking in the soot stained ceiling. Oh well, guess that kid couldn't get everything.

“Did you all at least remember to get rooms?”

Nods all around. Good; I didn't want to share.

“Yep, we filled the place up; they could only stuff us in two at a time. Kind of jealous you get one to yourself.”

I knew how to fix that. I pasted on a nice serene face with a bland smile and attacked.

“Well I can always help you with that. All I'd have to do is make you female.”

Matt coughed as his beer went down the wrong pipe.

“Um, no, thanks, that won't be necessary.”

Success! Just that simple. Ethan was on to me though.

“You don't know how to do that, do you lass?”

I felt I had to answer truthfully.

“Nope. Not even a little. I can't do transformational magics.”

I did hope to learn though. I might be able to fix my own condition if I did, though I suspected it wouldn't be that simple. I hated that feeling, but couldn't quite deny it. The others didn't even seem to be entertaining the idea of going back to normal. Making the world go back to normal, yes, but not themselves. Not even the dwarf, though in his case I wasn't sure.

The wine was barely passable, from an obviously local vintage. But barely passable was passable, and it set off the meal perfectly. Now I needed a wet nap or something. Just as I was beginning to despair, the waitress came by again, this time with a damp but clean hot towel and another goblet of wine.

“Here you go! Can I time things or what?”

“You can, thanks.”

I wiped down and she took it and was gone again. I was very happy I didn't have to deal with a brindle dog or something similar. Rubbing greasy hands on a flea infested mongrel was shudder worthy. The others were staring at me.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just good service here, you better tip the waitress.”

“I intend to, why wouldn't I?”

Randolf goggled at me, then smirked.

“No reason. Screw all this, we aren't drunk enough.”

Even pastor Collins was drinking, though his pace more closely matched my own. We were all going to be senseless by the end of the night though, by the looks of things. The wine was potent after all; I resolved to slow down. Drinking something other than water was nice though. I'd probably gladly murder a few people for a Coke.

Ethan Matt and Randolf were talking sports, something I never cared for. Karl was staring into his cup like it contained all the answers to life's questions, and pastor Collins was muttering prayers under his breath from the sounds of things by the time I finished my second cup. My ears were starting to heat up.

It was time to go do something. And unfortunately, that something involved going back out to the bath shed again. So I stood back up, just as Matt Karl and Phil did.

“Where are you going?”

“The can. Where are you going?”

“The same. “

Stupid biology. I was closer to the door, but they were more reckless, so we all made it outside together. Which of course meant that I would be waiting, since I wasn't about to risk them getting a peek... or peek myself. It took them less than three minutes while I watched the trees move in the breeze. Looked like the weather was going to turn foul again.

Then it was my turn, and Gar was at the door.

“Hello again ma'am. In the far right corner there is a screen, and a specially made seat. Next to those is a bucket and rags should you need to clean yourself. The rags are clean, I laundered them myself. The idea is to throw the rags down the hole too. I'm not supposed to leave, but I'll be right here but facing the door if you need anything.”

And out he went. I checked the walls... like the bath room itself, there were no convenient holes anywhere, and the screen was dark and covered everything. I pulled it across. The bucket full of rags was clean, they looked like the remains of old sheets or something, cut into strips.

I trusted Gar on maters of cleanliness after my earlier brush, but I still thanked my lucky stars that I didn't need them. The seat however, I did need, and it was clean too. It was made of oak, fit directly over the hole, and smelled of bleach, somehow. Evidently they had access to bleach still. Once finished I used my best spell, and made sure to hit the seat and surroundings with it too. Gar wouldn't have extra work on my account.

A quick retraction of the screen showed Gar right where I'd left him.

“So what do I owe you this time?”

He grinned.

“Nothing at all, only the baths are charged. Enjoy your stay Ma'am.”

I waved and stepped outside, to find Matt Karl and Phil, enjoying the moonlight and swaying of the trees. Should I be breathing fire their direction, or touched? I settled for neither, even though I was sorely tempted.

“Pretty decent facilities.”

Phil nodded with some obvious relief.

“Yep! Better than what I have at home. Stupid outhouse.”

I could sympathize. We made it back in with the gentlemen leading the way, but I collected my key and went on to the stairs while they sat back down before the beer.

“I'm going to go study. You all should probably slow down. Hangovers will really suck tomorrow.”

Karl stepped in.

“Agreed. This is the last pitcher guys' we need to be sharp tomorrow.”

There were groans that Gar could probably hear. They were like children or something. The common room was still crowded, with waitresses flitting around like large dragonflies. So it took me a bit longer to navigate than I wanted. The stairs were narrow and high, but at least they didn't need a banister. I ignored the second floor and started up the next claustrophobia inducing flight.

At the third floor there were three rooms. I was in the last, the rather sturdy door directly across from the landing. The key opened the lock and I went in to discover a space a bit smaller than a modern hotel room, with a small scarred desk set next to the only and currently shuttered window and a rather large bed that looked a bit lumpy.

It felt a bit lumpy too, under the gray checkered comforter, but it felt soft and appeared free of any creepy crawlies. I used the spell to repel insect life anyway, and watched the result carefully; nothing. Very good.

The door also sported a small metal bar like the one in the bathroom as well as the standard lock, which was perfect. I closed the door and shot it, and only after realized I'd forgotten to light the lamp first. Stupid dark seeing eyes. I lit the lamp with another small application of magic because id of course forgotten to bring a candle or ember with me. I was burning through magic to do the mundane again, and it was annoying. I really had to get a handle on that.

I plunked down on the bed and opened my pack, grabbing my spell book. I needed to know much more about how this crazy stuff worked if I was to use it. I doubted I could use it to fix the problem we were sent to investigate since it was likely the cause, but I wouldn't discount it either. And anything that could be used to help save lives was a good thing.

Besides, how could I sleep with all that racket going on downstairs?

Well somehow I managed it. Because the next thing I knew I woke to a hand reaching past my drooling face to snag the spell book I was resting on. How the hell had someone gotten into my locked room?

I turned quickly, adrenalin spiking me awake and hand going for my dagger. The cloaked individual moved even faster than I, avoiding the slash I'd aimed in haste. Through the dim light of the dying lamp I could easily read the surprise. There was nothing in the individuals hands, but obviously they were a thief.

As I watched they turned to smoke, and filtered out the slots in the window. I opened it shortly after, spell of fire already formed in my mind, but the fog or mist was gone.

Well that was new.

Checking my belongings revealed nothing missing, not even my coin purse. A small spell would prevent any further incursions from the window. Only then did I allow my heart to slow. That hadn't felt like an attack on myself; it would have been easy to just stab me while I was asleep. It would have been just as easy to slash my coin purse and leave. My instinct was telling me whoever that was, had been after my book specifically.

Which made no sense at all, since only I could use the darn thing.

The real question was; should I tell the others? A quick glance revealed how late it was. I could tell by the light from the window slits that the moon was facing it; which meant it was close to setting. And the lamp, which had enough oil for several hours, was almost out. I didn't want to wake everyone else up, only to have them sit on me while I slept.

Then again, they might be targets themselves.

Then again, if the thief had already hit them, it was too late to worry about it. None of them had spell books, however. Well maybe pastor Collins did for some of the things his goddess asked of him, but I didn't think so. I was fairly sure the thief wouldn't be back tonight, for fear that I had the rabble roused against them.

Sigh.

I opened my door. The party down below was in full swing. I headed down the stairs; I didn't know which rooms my companions had, so I'd have to ask. Luckily enough no one was coming up said stairs, or it would have been a tight squeeze.

Just before the first floor landing I paused; the view laid out the entire common room. There were still old salts and farmers chatting merrily away at this hour. And there, right where I left them... were my companions. All of them still drinking merrily away, even Karl. And they were very loud, if not especially coherent. I think I heard three different stories at once, and all of them just as improbable. I'd have to remember the one about the bar room dancer the next time Randolf gave me crap. Even pastor Collins was still there, listening intently with his face beet red!

I turned around and marched back up without a word. It was 3 am, or thereabouts, and whatever the thief did to them was well deserved, as long as death wasn't involved. After all, death was too good for them at this point.

The morning dawned bright and clear. Birds were singing, insects chirping or buzzing, and I could almost hear the flowers opening up in response to the warming sun. I certainly wanted to. I opened the window, noting that the alarms I'd placed last night were still intact. Good.

The fresh morning breeze was sweetly scented with the aroma of flowers and pollen. It smelled like revenge. I dressed in my clean clothes as opposed to cleaning what I wore yesterday, and crept as silently as possible down the stairs to the common room. Which was apparently pretty darn silent; I couldn't hear me. Though that might have more to do with the humming barmaid, already up and sweeping broken crockery and assembled crap from the floor. She was even being thorough, lifting up and moving chairs and leaning down to get under tables.

There were no other people, slumped over a table or otherwise. So they had gotten upstairs to their rooms after all. Maybe they hadn't been as drunk? Oh well, time to startle the unsuspecting!

“Good morning.”

She jumped in a most satisfying way, then flushed and favored me with a broad grin.

“You got me good! Good morning. Would you like some breakfast? The right part of the common room is clean.”

“I would, yes. What do you have?”

“Well we have a choice of pancakes or ham and eggs, with bread. Though I suppose you could ask for a mix; you'd have to speak to the cook or something about that, I just work here.”

Were all the barmaids here cut from the same cloth? Perky, chipper and upbeat? Where did they find them? Even three or four was an awful lot of upbeat people. Maybe there was something in the water? Why was I always suspecting the water? It could be something else. It could even be that the change in the world itself was doing this somehow; there had been weirder clues to weird happenings in life.

“Just the pancakes are fine. Some syrup if you have it, a slice of bread, and some tea if you have that?”

“Sure do! Pancakes and maple syrup, coming right up. I have to continue cleaning, but I'll tell the cook and someone else will bring it out, OK?”

“Sure, that's fine.”

I found a seat while she ran off. She came back before I could get settled in, and picked up a rag to wash tables. She did good work, the side of the common room I was in gleamed. I could see my outline in the table wax, and while I wasn't sure I could eat off the floor, I could definitely walk barefoot on it without fear.

My new found friend from last night I didn't remember the name to; with some shame I realized I hadn't asked.

“Hey! Good morning, here you go. Sleep well?”

“Thank you. I did for the most part. I have something to tell you if you have a minute.”

She looked back at the kitchen.

“Just dishes, they can wait a few. What's up?”

“Um, first off, what's your name? I forgot to ask, and it's been bugging me.”

She laughed.

“Whoops, my bad. I forgot to introduce myself yesterday. I'm Caitlyn. So, what do you need?”

“Hi, I'm Muse.”

I took a bite, trying to think of how to play this. The pancake was good. IHOP worthy, or better. Best to play it straight I suppose, even if it started a very public search or worse, a panic. After all, having someone break into your supposedly secure place with ease using magic and up to no good... well I didn't feel good about it, and I could counter it.

“Well last night I was sleeping, and someone managed to enter my room using magic and try to steal from me. They didn't manage to, but it was a close thing. I was wondering if you had heard anything about prior incidents.”

I wasn't willing to call it an inside job just yet, but chances were the barmaids here might know the perpetrator; he was almost certainly a local; we had no cars anymore after all. No mass transit meant most people around here lived here.

“Oh no! Did they get anything? What were they after? Did you get a look at them? Maybe we can track them down or something. Get the guard involved, or something.”

Well, her reaction was a reassurance; I didn't think she could pull off innocent and perky and fool me, and she seemed pretty sincere about not knowing anything. I held my hands up; she was beginning to raise her voice and get a good head of steam; her coworker had paused in her broom-work to give a curious glance.

“No, they didn't get anything. They were after my spell book, oddly enough. I got a look, and I'm fairly sure it was a him, but he wore a mask so I can't identify him. However he used a spell to turn himself into a fog to get out of my room, and likely that's how he got in. Sound like anyone you know?”

She slowly shook her head.

“Sorry, I don't know anyone who can throw spells. Well, other than you. I can ask around, maybe one of the other girls has heard something. We have to try and get this creep off the streets! I'll go get the guard!”

I managed to stop her in time, I almost wasn't fast enough to snag her arm.

“Quietly, Caitlyn. Quietly. We don't want to call too much attention to this and scare the perpetrator away.”

Even if chances were he was long gone by now.

“Oh, right. Low key.”

She dashed off to the kitchen, leaving me to ponder. Keys would probably be a good start to fix the problem for this inn in the future; it wouldn't be that much different for what I had for my own home. But could I do it for an inn? I wasn't sure, the traffic would be immense. I'd have to modify the spell, and I really wasn't sure in what way.

I'd have to think on it. But while I was thinking, I could be eating and drinking tea. I have to give the other barmaid present her due; she actually did finish her job before rushing into the kitchen to see what was going on. She didn't stop to ask me either, which might be a point against her; I was approachable! Even nice! Maybe she was under orders not to bug guests? Whatever. I knew my little bit of excitement would be all over town by noon; between all the people currently learning the news, there had to be at least one incurable gossip. I just hoped that the guard would hear first.

I wish I'd managed to get a hold of a scrap of cloth, or mark the intruder. I could trace him myself in that case, then ask him what the heck he thought he was doing. It wasn't like he could actually use my spell book; it had it's own lock, keyed to me. And it was in old elvish, a nearly dead language. I didn't know how I knew that, but I did.

There were spells that could force the lock of course, and spells to allow one to read any language, so maybe it wasn't as secure as I first thought. But the thief would have to know those spells, and I didn't even know what spells I knew for sure until I needed them. So why go to all the effort and take the chance? Hopefully I'd get the chance to ask.

But for now, I had the more fun task of my morning to complete. And I really was an idiot; I forgot to ask Caitlyn some crucial questions. So I had to go to the kitchen first. I managed to catch Caitlyn in mid story, regaling the kitchen staff with my daring fight against the midnight intruder. I was pretty good in a fight, to hear someone who never saw me fight tell it.

“Excuse me, Caitlyn?”

She had the good grace to look embarrassed, but I wasn't here to call her out so I didn't.

“Could you tell me the room numbers my friends are staying in? I need to wake them up.”

“Oh, sure. Though they probably won't be ready to travel. Even Gar had trouble carrying them up last night.”

….perfect.

“And when was that?”

“Oh about 4 am, maybe a bit later.”

And they had had their gear downstairs with them until then. Maybe I was worrying over nothing. I hoped I was. Guilt sucked, I should have told them about the break in earlier. Caitlyn rattled the numbers off; rooms 2, 3, and 4 on the second floor. They were sleeping two to a room, apparently in order to save money. They had apparently drunk up quite the tab last night. This was also perfect. I crept back upstairs, silent as a mouse. After all, I didn't want to wake anyone else up. Just my targets.

So how was I going to do that? The inn was full, and pounding on the door would disturb the other guests. Yelling would most definitely disturb the other guests. But I didn't want to just leave this one alone and wait a year for them to get up. I wanted to see what happened to the nearest actual city. Oh, I could have simply asked travelers last night, but I wanted to see it with fresh eyes.

Polite knocking got me nowhere, except in room four. I could hear Ethan grumbling about the noise, but I didn't hear him get up, so he probably just rolled over. Famed Dwarven constitution for you. With a shrug I headed back downstairs. And the guard captain from yesterday was just walking in, shaking the road dust off his cloak.

“Good morning, Captain.”

“Good morning lady Muse. Glad to see you here, I was hoping to discuss the situation at Georgetown with you.”

“Well we can try, Though I'm not sure what help I can be. We can also discuss a small event that happened last night since you're here. After all, you're responsible for crimes along your patrol route, aren't you?”

He nodded warily.

“Then since you're here, I'd like to report a thief on the loose. A person broke into my room last night and tried to steal my spellbook. They used magic in the attempt, a spell to turn one's self into fog or mist, and wore a mask and dark clothes. Gray to be precise, and under that a male. I really can't offer you anything else except when I woke and confronted them, they ran instead of simply trying to kill me and take it; so it is unlikely they are a murderer.”

He sighed as we sat down. He seemed tired. One of the barmaids, a pleasant looking blonde, came out and handed him some wine. He quaffed a good dose of it before answering.

“I'll see what I can do, though I hope you don't expect much. There is no DNA analysis, and though we could do fingerprints, we have nothing to compare it to anymore. Without a good description we are left hoping to catch such criminals in the act. Spells and books of spells are important; some people are looking to magic for the answer to why the world changed.”

“Not surprising; I also think magic might hold the answer, or the tools for getting it. I just didn't expect someone trying to steal it. I don't think it would do them much good in any event, it's written in a dead language.”

His return look was cryptic, to say the least.

“Some people like to work fast, and cover all the angles. Were I you, I wouldn't trust many. Your companions perhaps... and me, of course. One minute.”

He levered himself up and went to the door, calling someone named Grim over. Grim turned out to be his sergeant or second in command, and whispers were exchanged along with loaded glances shot ym way. My ears were very good however, and I knew he was simply filling the man in and telling him to make quiet inquiries. I sipped and waited; I had nothing else to do really. I wanted to be reading my book, but that was rude. He came back and downed the rest of his wine, gesturing for a refill. Apparently someone was watching, because one of the other barmaids was at our table so fast she might have used magic, blushing and refilling the Captain's cup. She gave me one and filled it. I took it even though it was a bit early for me to be drinking.

“Alright, your turn. My men and I went down the road, found the trail, and eventually your campsite. It was late in the day, and I left one squad there, and took another with me into the outskirts of Georgetown. I'm not sure how you made it into the town itself, but we didn't venture that close. It was obvious something was wrong with the place.”

I didn't blame them their possible cowardice. I certainly wouldn't want to go back there, even though I knew I'd have to at least head back that way in order to get home. Maybe I could take the really long way around... as if that likely wouldn't prove to be more dangerous. The Captain's trip down recently made memory lane was cause him no small amount of stress; he looked gray.

“We started back, but night fell before we could reach the campsite. Lady Muse, what came out of those woods... well they were ghosts. Just having them get close sucked the heat from your bones, and the WAILING; that gods-awful wailing. Well, we didn't stay; your wards stopped them, but we decided we really didn't want to be there; to listen to... that. So we packed up and marched, and here we are.”

They hard marched all night, probably without rest. Their experience had to have been much worse than ours. After all, some of us had been able to sleep through the noise. Or was that the truth? Might be more to it, but I was no expert on spooks.

“Everyone made it out alright though, right?”

He nodded and grabbed my hands in his.

“All thanks to your wards, and on behalf of my men, I thank you.”

I reclaimed my hands. He was too busy looking deeply into my eyes to notice, or if he did, he did not take offense.

“No problem, think nothing of it. Do you of the guard have a mage handy? One on the payroll?”

He nodded.

“We do. And I'm way ahead of you. I will request those more of those wards from him, or whatever similar ward he can make. Everyone in the area is currently being warned about the town as we speak; I sent our fastest runners with the news.”

I could find no flaw in that.

“Good. Sorry about the harrowing experience.”

He grinned, seemingly recovered.

“All part of the hazards of a cop's life.”

An opening to change the subject if ever I heard one.

“Oh? You were a cop before?”

“Nope, I was military. But I was taking military police training, and was going to become a cop after I got out. Now I'm drafted all over again, and Ohio is part of a kingdom.”

Ohio was part of a kingdom? Now that I heard it said, that gem fit in my head, much in the way magic did. Ohio wasn't really Ohio any more, but was a duchy. The duchy of Orrus? Named after the family. Though why they ruled I didn't know. Maybe I would eventually; and that prospect only mildly scared the crap out of me. Just having information randomly appear in my head was never something I wanted to get used to.

“So now you do the state cop thing, sort of.”

“Yep.”

As a guard member he would work directly for the king, or emperor, or whatever was around. He would know, but I didn't feel like asking. Maybe I should, for the information and mystery solving, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Time to take both our minds off things with another handy subject change.

“So where do you need to report to now? What new area do you need to patrol?”

He grinned.

“About that. I don't. It's time for my squad to report in, and part of that is heading to the city. And I'm glad you stayed here last night. I'd like to offer to escort your team to the city. I'd hate for something to happen to you in my patrol area, and that thief may try again. You might be the one to solve this mess, and get reality back to, well, reality.”

He was smooth. I'm betting he really wanted to escort us to make sure we didn't cause trouble. But maybe I was just being paranoid. Then again, I doubted that we were the only ones running around and doing this. And it might look really bad for the Captain to have casualties or thefts in his patrol area. Then again, I was pretty surprised that the places we had been weren't all rioting; there was something to be said for societal inertia after all.

Or did any of that judgmental crap even apply yet? It might apply to us all if we were actually part of a medieval era world or whatever era it was ripped from, but surely even without the trappings of our modern society, we were more enlightened than that? I could hope, right?

My gut spawned butterflies. I really hoped my cynicism was misplaced. Time would of course, tell. Karl was going to be pissed at me, but he was just as drunk as the rest. Together collectively they would be unable to beat the group of kobolds we encountered before.

“We'd be delighted of course, Captain. It may be some time before my companions wake however, so you have time to rest up and get some food in you. This inn is first rate, just as you said yesterday.”

“A good plan. The inn has a check out time of noon; I'll meet you all outside then, or shortly after?”

“Sure. See you then. Where are you headed now?”

It didn't seem like sleep was something the good Captain would be getting any time soon.

“There aren't any rooms. So I think I'll pick a spot where my men are, out in the shade, and sleep until it's time to go. Well that or until the locals ask my help. They should be able to handle the search for your thief until the next patrol comes along, and in all honesty I'm too tired to think straight. See you soon.”

I waved as he made his way out the door. The sun was nice and bright; I wanted to be out there myself. Weren't the locals around here the innkeeper, his staff, and the local farmers? Would they have anyone around who could handle an investigation for a thief? On the other hand, they would know who the magic users were; after all, my own townspeople had known at a glance.

The real question is, should I investigate myself while I had the time. Would these people even talk to an outsider? They seemed pretty close minded yesterday. It would be best to harness another approach. But which approach? The human nature one or the magic one? I decided on the human route, which took me back to the kitchen.

“Excuse me.”

The cook was a small man, dressed in an almost immaculately clean white tunic and pants. The apron he wore over them was mostly spotless too; I only saw a few flour stains. He was not a handsome man, his face was far to hatchet-like for that, and he seemed to hold an aura of command that brooked no nonsense. There wasn't anyone else present.

“Yes, may I help you?”

He was as least polite to guests. Another plus.

“Yes, could I speak to you in private for a moment?”

He wiped his hands on the apron and came forward.

“Come in; none will disturb us here for the moment. What do you need? Was there a problem with the breakfast?”

Another point in his favor. I was quick to assure him no.

“No, nothing like that. I'd just like you to do a favor for me. You know about the incident this morning, I'm guessing?”

He shifted from solicitous to wary. I took that as a yes.

“What can I do for you?”

I couldn't resist the grin that came to my face; It seemed I was 100% right in the gossipy nature of the staff.

“Well, when your help comes back from their rounds, I'd appreciate it if any juicy tidbits they uncover regarding the identity of the would be thief were relayed to me. I'd really like to get a few leads, but I'm unsure the people around here will talk to me much.”

He conceded the point without actually conceding the point.

“I can do that. Is there anything else you need?”

As close to a dismissal as he could get politely; I heard it loud and clear.

“Another pot of that tea would be excellent, thank you.”

“I'll bring one out.”

I didn't know why he was in such a hurry to get rid of me; he ran a nice clean kitchen. No chance I'd complain, at least on that score. I sat back down and opening my pack; Since I kept my book, and no one was here to annoy me, might as well read it.

Five minutes later I barely noticed the tea the cook brought out himself; it was tasty, but so was the discourse on elementals, as animate essences of an idea. Like a fire elemental wasn't just fire; it was representative of fire itself. And there was more than one. Countless numbers, somehow. Another concept that they represented; that of numbers beyond counting, though they were hardly the only creature (or was it concept) to reinforce that idea.

The entire explanation introduced a cosmology I found vaguely disturbing; the book seemed to claim that elementals backed those elemental forces which drove the world, and that was how the entire process worked. If I wasn't just reading too much into this, then what was next? The four humors of the body? Some sort of half-hearted Kabbalah?

An hour later my tea was cold and I was sick of waiting. The morning crowd was wafting in, and the barmaids were back to deal with them. No one had sat down close to me, however; the nearest person was two tables away and eying me warily over coffee. Conversation was muted... but at least it existed. It was eleven.

“Caitlyn, are most of the guests out of their rooms by now?”

She stopped and turned.

“Yes, most. Why, what are you planning?”

“To roust my companions of course. We need to get moving; the mysteries of the world won't solve themselves.”

“Hmm, should be fine. We usually have Gar start things off about now anyway.”

Well, that's pretty kind, letting the drunks sleep in late. So there won't be any problems with me going upstairs and knocking on a few doors?”

She shook her head with a grin.

“Pound away, anyone not up yet should be. Anyone who complains, well they can complain to Gar.”

I handed the tea pot to her as she moved to leave, and stuffed my book back in my bag.

“That's a pretty sound customer service decision. Happen often?”

“Only twice so far!”

And then she was gone. Hmm, in a week, twice seemed often. Oh well, back upstairs with no need to creep this time. I knocked at a polite volume on the door of room number 2, Karl and Matt's. I was greeted with silence. So I knocked a little louder. Then louder still, and there was still no response.

So it was time to take the kid gloves off.

My sword would make a good conductor, as well as offering me some control over the direction of the sound, and possibly even distance. I'd never done this before, but it should work. It was a mild worry that I seemed to keep resorting to magic for the most mundane things, but it is what it is. I was going to be kinder than Gar, I was sure. The rooms were all next to each other, which definitely helped the next step.

Some concentration, some focus on my blade, and a good whack on the door with it were all that was required to get the ball rolling. At my urging my blade acting like a tuning fork, spreading a low, persistent, and absolutely nagging sound directly into the rooms I was targeting. It took less than a minute to get results, though they weren't the results I was expecting.

I almost lost my breakfast as multiple sounds of others upchucking hit my ears over the resonant tone I had made. Whoops, looks like I had found one of THOSE sounds. It hadn't affected me that way... but they were drunk after all. Ugh, I had just made more work for the staff here; they were not going to be fond of us. I hoped they'd let us stay on our way back home... if we came back this way that is.

The door in front of me opened, and Karl stared blearily out. He had some vomit running down his chin. He did not look at all pleased, but responded calmly enough.

“Morning. Could you please stop that noise?”

I stopped, just as the next door opened and Thomas roared through it.

“Someone stop that infernal racket before I kill them!”

He promptly bounced his shoulder off the door jamb. He couldn't kill a fly, as uncoordinated as he was. Well maybe by falling on it; he was a huge guy, after all. I decided to ignore him; looking further into the room I saw Matt staring at the puddle of puke on his bedding, he looked out of it, and that made me feel guilty... at least a little. After all none of them looked in any way near sober, even after seven hours.

“Morning. Almost check out time, so I came to wake you all. Sorry about the results.”

“Why would you pick that way, you witch?”

Did I hear correctly? Did Thomas just call me a witch?

“Well it was me or Gar you neanderthal. Which would you have preferred?”

He shut up as heavy footprints sounded up the stairs. Well, speak of the devil and he shall appear; there was Gar. He looked less than unhappy, though he wasn't looking at me. In fact, he looked downright terrifying at the moment.

“Lady Muse, these drunks bothering you?”

“No, just needed to wake them up. Can you help them get cleaned up, please?”

They needed a good dunk to clear their heads. And maybe some pharmaceutical help with their inevitable headaches. I could handle that end, if they asked nicely. I couldn't help carry them all, after all. Gar probably could, if they left their armor off. Then again, it looked like I didn't have to; I finally noticed the stable hands behind Gar on the stair way. The last room, the one with Phil and pastor Collins, hadn't even been opened yet.

“Sure I can do that.”

Then he bellowed, startling me.

“Alright you lot, get up! You had your fun, now it's time to pay for it!”

He put an arm around Thomas and guided him down the stairs; he wasn't gentle, but he did keep him from tumbling headfirst and breaking something he might need. There were enough stable hands to grab everyone, and they did so, quickly and quietly. I wanted to help, but there was no one left to help... and I wasn't cleaning up all that vomit. Caitlyn was waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

“Sorry; there is an awful lot of... mess up there.”

Her cheer slipped a bit.

“It's OK, it's not your fault.”

“Actually I think it was. The magic didn't work as I expected.”

She nodded to the two girls that went by, headed upstairs with soapy water filled buckets and some kind of gloves on their hands. While the two passed me they weren't smiling, but they weren't frowning either.

“Nah, that's not your fault. Really! The drink around here makes people puke all the time! We're used to it.”

She leaned in close.

“We just charge them for the clean up.”

She smiled, and I couldn't help it; I smiled back. The service of this inn was excellent.

Toledo looked quite different from the last time I was here. It could have been the buildings, none of them over four stories and all of them made of wood or cut stone. It could have been the sprawl of it, with the winding and narrow cobbled streets. It could even have been the market with unrefrigerated meats, butchers nearby watching with naked cleavers in their hands, or the loud farmers selling vegetables out of carts, many of them small and wilted looking. Maybe the obvious open drainage was a clue, or the smells that were ranging from faintly rotten to absolutely disgusting.

It could also be the fully moated castle on the obviously man-made hill overlooking everything. It was sort of rough to tell.

We went through the gate with our escort, the esteemed Captain and his merry men. Who actually had been merry, and nice company for the trip. He waved at me with a wide grin when we split up; he had to report in and we had to find rooms for the night.

“Sheesh, finally. Thought that guy would never shut up.”

Matt did not appreciate the good Captain, or his small talk.

“At least he made things easier.”

The escort had cleared us from any further harassment by other patrols, gotten us in the gate of Toledo with ease, and had kept us from getting attacked on the road. Of course, I wasn't sure about the last part, but with thieves in my room last night, I wasn't about to deny the chance, no matter how tame this area looked. Monsters had nothing on mankind sometimes, after all, and the thief hadn't been a Kobold.

Or if he was, he was a very tall one.

The inn recommended by the Captain was called the “Sword sheath”, and was probably only recommended because the military or cops or whatever they wanted to call themselves had an eye on it already – but that suited me right down to the ground. Some of us had other ideas though.

“We shouldn't be where any organized military can watch or find us.”

Some of them wanted to give me a headache.

“Phil, if we vanish they will just look for us until they find us, and then trust us less because we vanished in the first place. We need to work within any official channels left for now, we need the information they are likely to have.”

Your average mugger or murderer isn't likely to have ideas on what happened to the world, after all. Or if they did, they were unlikely to be useful. There would be plenty of time to check whatever dark underbelly this city had (and I had no doubt at all that it had one) after we had exhausted the side of the street with actual paid spies.

The inn itself was down the main street (I didn't catch the name, road signs seemed to be missing) and near the market. It was not all that different from the road in we'd stayed the night before. Smaller, less sprawling, and without a barn for animals, it still managed to leave the impression with me – probably because it was clean and looked well cared for. I could smell food inside, meat roasting vegetables frying, and they didn't smell as if they were burning.

I missed the lack of trees around it though; even this main street felt a little claustrophobic to me.

The inside was brightly lit thanks to the use of actual skylights made of glass colored a washed out blue set into the slat roof. The place looked clean and smelled of mint – and unwashed people of course. There was a sizable crowd, mostly Men in uniforms and clad in steel; Phil's hands were already twitching, and Thomas looked a little green.

Karl and I, on the other hand, strode up to the bar as if we owned the place; after we all wiped our feet of course. I didn't even have to remind them this time. Aside from a few curious glances, mainly at Ethan, our party was ignored. The bartender was old, graying, and had long since run mostly to fat; though he was in that curious not quite overweight stage. He smiled as we approached, showing some bright shiny teeth.

“Can I help you?”

Alright, so it was polite, but it seemed a bit less so than one would expect. Karl answered while I kept my mouth shut, per our agreement.

“Yes, we'd like rooms if possible.”

“Of course sir! How many?”

“Four.” That was 2 of us per room. I wonder who Karl wanted me to room with. I wasn't sure if I should object after my last inn experience…..

“Of course sir, that will be eight gold.”

Eight gold!?! Per night? Was this place the Ritz or something? Karl handed over the money with a raised eyebrow. The bartender just shrugged and handed him four crude keys. Thinking back, eight gold was around a thousand dollars in my head; I knew what I guess were something like exchange rates. I also knew that while I could afford it easily, staying here for long would probably bankrupt my companions. We needed to find our answers quick or we'd be in back washing dishes or worse.

Karl handed me a key on the walk back to the group. “You'll be with Pastor Collins.”

That made sense – Pastor Collins wouldn't try anything, and he as ex-military, he was better in a physical fight than I was, or even than the robes he wore suggested. So if we wanted to bait a repeat performance, then squash it, he was the perfect choice. He was even a lighter sleeper than I was.

I wasn't in any hurry to dump my stuff in the rooms for obvious reasons, so I took a chair while the others went on up; not that I blamed them, they didn't have bags like mine. I passed the Key to Pastor Collins and flagged down the barmaid as they made their noisy way up the stairs.

The barmaid was less young than the last example, and less pretty, with limp stringy dirt colored hair and a disinterested attitude. Then again, getting groped all day by men with metal gloves while wearing crappy wooden shoes might have something to do with it.

“I'd like a bottle of good wine, and a pitcher of beer for my companions, please.”

“hm, We've some Sigalan red if you want.”

Sigalan red jogged another memory I didn't know I had. Sigalan was an elven kingdom, in Idaho, or what used to be Idaho. On the border of Oregon, or what used to be Oregon, they grew some surprisingly good grapes, somehow. There was some sort of trade secret there that I could almost tease out of my head… but all in all it made for a mid to high quality wine; just short of the truly expensive vintages.

“That will be perfect, thank you.”

She flounced off, literally avoiding a grabby hand by less than an inch. The guardsman the hand belonged to looked amused. Maybe this was a game the two played or something; she didn't seem all that upset either.

I had a book pulled out (my bestiary) and was taking my first sip when the guys came back down. They were pretty noisy and much more relaxed. Phil wasted no time in telling me why as they all sat down, almost fighting over the pitcher like starving dogs over a piece of meat.

“The windows have bars in them; all of them. They are pretty sturdy, too. You'd need a pry bar or hammer to take them out, and it's make a lot of noise. The locks are terrible, but no absolutely awful. Makes things a bit harder for any mystery guests.”

That combined with the military presence the place had, off duty or not, will definitely help. Still, there were other ways, especially with spells. It would be nice if the esteemed Captain had this in mind when he recommended the place, rather than the watching thing. But he could probably manage both thoughts.

“Ah, lass, you read my mind!” Ethan effused at me, blowing froth from his beard.

I managed to keep any of his froth from hitting me; why he'd sat next to me I didn't know.

“Not all that hard really, Ethan. There is only one thought on it, after all.”

He laughed so loudly everyone turned to look; I hid in my cloak hood.

“You've got the right of things there! A day of walking and a cool beer is the only thing I want. Makes the hot dusty day worth it.”

Well at least he didn't take offense and yell at me.

Karl was too busy drinking to comment though Matt was grinning. Thomas was staring into his own half full mug as if it contained something dead – which it may, I didn't actually specify any quality for the beer. An oversight caused by the fact that I wasn't drinking that swill. The others didn't seem to mind, at least.

Randolf had a different take on things. “You should drink this instead of that fruity smelling wine; it'll put hair on your chest.”

I looked down with an arched brow. He shrugged back at me.

“Drink enough, maybe the hair will replace those?”

“Surprisingly tempting, but I think I'll pass. This stuffs pretty good.”

Karl looked relieved to not have a fight on his hands. He really should have more faith, I'm not that touchy.

“So did you order food too?”

“Of course not, I didn't know what any of you wanted.”

Phil finished draining his tankard and stood up. “None for me, thanks. Got things to do.”

So he was going to prowl for information. “You sure? The meal is included in the inn price.”

For as much as the room cost, it had better be. He visibly waffled for a moment before shaking his head.

“Nah, I'll get something along the way. Got to see a man about a horse.”

Karl waved the barmaid back, and she avoided another pinch from the same guy with a grin on her face that matched his; apparently it was a joke after all.

“What can I get for you?” She didn't have a notepad or a menu, I realized. In fact, there wasn't a menu posted anywhere. She also didn't have a name tag.

“Whats' today's special?” Karl asked her.

“Roasted pork and butter beans, with summer squash, or grilled vegetable medley, which is green beans, carrots, mushrooms, grilled and then put in a salad with some tomatoes and radishes.”

So, a vegetarian option, huh?

Everyone else ordered the pork, and the barmaid just nodded as if she expected it. But I just wasn't feeling it today.

“I'll take the grilled vegetable medley.”

Of course everyone but Pastor Collins stared at me as if I had said I'd murder everyone in the room.

“What? Some day's you just feel like a salad.”

Randolf immediately barked out: “I don't.”

“Well, I do.” Philistines. It wasn't like I didn't eat meat; I'd eaten deer jerky on the trip, and rabbit. I just didn't feel like it right now. Hm, was philistines even an accurate term anymore? I was willing to bet the books we now had no longer mentioned the culture. Another thing to check on….

The barmaid skipped off again, taking a few more orders from memory before skipping off into the kitchen. It was mildly impressive, actually, even if most people probably ordered the same thing.

“So, how do we go about finding our answers, lady Muse?” Matt asked, obviously trying to needle me.

“I've got to wait on the good Captain to find time to escort me to the castle, so I can see the wizard in residence. A guy by the name of 'Stick.'” From what the Captain said, he's the one co-coordinating the 'what the hell happened' efforts here.”

“Well that sounds like a whole lot of useless waiting.”

Pastor Collins spoke up: “I believe I can help with that. There are bound to be churches here, with other men of the cloth, whatever cloth that may be now. If I get in touch with them, we might get some answers.”

It seemed unlikely it would be that easy, but it was worth a shot. Karl seemed to agree.

“Alright, but take Thomas with you. It might be dangerous alone.”

Randolf grumbled but stood up when Pastor Collins did, and followed him out the door. Of course, he still had the tankard in his hand, and it was full, but I doubted there were public drunkenness laws on the books anymore. It certainly wouldn't hurt his disposition any, so there was less chance of scaring off any clergy.

Ethan took his cue. “On that note, I'll see if I can contact any Dwarves. There should be some here, and they may know things we don't.”

He stumped out, leaving his own tankard while I looked on. Karl hadn't assigned him a buddy; he'd just waved as he left. Was it just that he was a fighter and Pastor Collins wasn't, or were there maybe some trust issues there? I mean, I didn't trust him, he was a dick. But I thought he and Karl were getting along.

Thomas stood up a mere beer later, wiping the foam from his mouth with a hand.

“Screw this. It's too annoying in here; I'm going outside.”

With a shrug I returned to my book. And then there were three; at least Karl and Matt didn't seem to want to go anywhere. They both looked pretty bored though, so I reached into my bag and pulled out my spellbook and another bestiary edition.

“Do something useful, don't just drink.”

Matt shrugged. “Well, it's better than tiddlywinks or dice.”

Karl just started flipping the pages, no doubt looking at the illustrations. I knew he could read, and I wasn't letting him off that easy. I had to admit the illustrations were very well done however; very lifelike. I didn't really want to know how the artist had gotten some of the creatures depicted in it to hold still in such poses long enough to draw or paint them… that way lay madness.

It was probably magic anyway; the games always made stopping time seem like child's play.

I was done with my wine and the section on elemental contracts when the Captain walked up to our table. The sun had to be setting outside, judging by the light.

“You're late Captain.” I don't think he ever had told me his last name; if he had, I didn't remember it, and I wasn't going to call him Captain Harry.

“Sorry, got held up when making a report to all the assorted brains trying to figure out what happened. You'll be pleased to know that they add Solace and Shrewsberry to the map of affected areas, and the grilled me for an hour on Georgetown for answers I didn't have. Then of course, they sent me to find you, because you'd have an eyewitness account and a much better understanding of what went on there, and never mind that they had delayed me from going back to get you in the first place.”

I grinned and pushed a clean tankard his way. It was going to be his anyway, I'd ordered for him too. That the boys had gone through the first pitcher didn't change that.

“Stay the extra five for a drink? You look parched.”

He sat with a clatter and a sigh. “You read my mind, Lady Muse. Though I really shouldn't here. Word might get back to my superiors regarding my prompt service or lack thereof.”

Karl gave an amused look. “Their fault for wasting time as much as yours. I doubt anyone here is going to rat you out, and if the information is that time sensitive then we should have been there already.”

He nodded but drained his beer in one gulp, so fast he almost choked, then stood up. With a shrug I stood up too. Karl and Matt both stood up a moment later, at the same time.

“If you'll follow me, Lady Muse.”

He led the way out, to where two of his own men were waiting in the street while Karl and Matt both followed me. Somehow I rated two buddies in our system, when Pastor Collins only rated one? The Captain had probably not wanted to spook us, which explained how many men and why for him, but I had to work to stave off the anger. Mildly insulting it may be, it was also accurate that I was one of the weaker members of us, and going into what could be a lion's den.

Karl had to come anyway, as he was our expedition leader; Matt was just being a concerned friend. Nothing to set their hair on fire for.

The streets were more open in the burgeoning darkness; the merchants and stall vendors had closed up shop and most of the people out seemed to be rushing home. There were torch brackets on the walls here and there, but no torches lit, and it was probably going to get very dark very quickly.

“Not paying the torch guy?”

The Captain smirked. “Nope, city is still busy getting lumberjacks to cut the wood. There is a nice convenient forest that popped up not far from the city though, so it's not all bad.”

I thought about it; that would be an awful lot of wood. They needed to switch to natural gas… or magic. Made me wonder, though; shouldn't this city have something like that already, considering the changes everywhere else I'd seen? I could see small towns closing up at night, but cities, even bronze age cities, tended to sleep late. Something else for the book.

One of the escorts was fumbling a torch; I kept forgetting human eyes were worse than mine.

“Well I'll do my part. You all can save your own torches.”

A slight hum and light bloomed, bright and warm as the sun. The captain whistled in appreciation while the guard just shrugged. I sent the ball on ahead of us and the captain led the way. He led all the way up the hill at the edge of town, and to grounds of the castle I was admiring earlier: it was much easier to admire from this range.

The pile of stones was literal, made of local granite blocks big enough to use as a table. It was gray and shot through with bands of dirty yellow. The cobbled road led right to the moat, which was about 20 feet across, and a drawbridge to go over it. There were soldiers all over, and more than a few were carefully watching my ball as it floated up. The rest were watching us – almost as if who would be watching whom was scripted.

“The lady Muse to see the Explorer's council.”

“Of course, Captain Sark, they are expecting you. One moment.” The guy, a tough and grizzled looker who could probably give Randolf a run for his money waved at the guards behind him, and the drawbridge started lowering with a screech.

It took a moment while each group politely pretended we didn't exist to the other for the thing to finally lower. This close I could see the cracks in the treated but obviously aged wood, and the rust in the iron bands holding it together. It didn't even creak as we walked over it, but that kind of lack of maintenance probably said something about the minds of past occupants – or current ones.

The inner courtyard seemed to echo my thoughts. there were the usual outbuildings; the smithy, the stable and farrier, a covered well and a grain silo, barracks and a garden… but the smithy was ramshackle for all it's large size, the stable was unpainted and the wood slats were beginning to warp, and the garden was overgrown. Only the castle itself and the barracks looked cared for, for all that the other buildings were occupied. Cheap candles glowing through windows gave that game away.

There wasn't any sort of chapel, and I couldn't help feeling that there should be one. Didn't all castles used to have one as a standard? Maybe it was in the castle proper or something, but that didn't seem right.

We were quickly led past a truly massive banded iron gate and into the castle proper. I snuffed my light as I walked in; I did not want to cause any misunderstandings. Here things were obviously cared for, with vibrant tapestries dusted fresh flowers placed strategically for color. I suspected if I lifted up one of the corners of the rugs in the receiving hall however, there would be dirt under it. I could see staff working on cleaning, but they were listless; uninterested. The only good news was they seemed even less interested in us than they were in cleaning.

They didn't lack for delicate looking glass and tin lanterns, placed everywhere with an oil and wick burning merrily away.

We were led around the front and to the tallest tower because of course the wizards and wise men would be holed up there. Never mind that the tallest tower was easiest to shell or nuke and visible from great range than the rest of the castle.

There had been plenty of soldiers outside, but there seemed to be precious few in here. Just two in the receiving hall, and two in front of the tower door proper. They stiffened and waved us through, looking at me the entire time.

The ground floor looked like a war room, with a large round table and several people, a few in armor, and many in a multitude of civilian dress, hunched over what looked like maps and reports… most on paper, but some on parchment. Unless I missed my guess that one in the upper right corner was on badly cured sheepskin.

There was a second table, just under the open window, full of food and drink of all kinds. It took full advantage of the breeze and flies, but those grazing on it didn't seem to mind too much. I resolved not to touch anything; I'd eat my ration mix before I touched that mess.

The first person to look up and notice us had to be the mage Sticks. Mainly because, well, he was a collection of sticks. I could see his arm bones, his cheek bones, and if not for the none too clean white robe made of cheap cotton, I would probably be able to count ribs. Worse, he had a large mustache that looked like a caterpillar bristling on his hatchet face; it almost seemed alive. I guess it was making up for the fact that it was the only hair he could grow anymore.

“Lady Muse, thank you for your timely report on the villages and sights you've seen. We've been expecting you, and have a few questions…?”

“Why yes, I am Lady Muse. And you are, sir? Who are your companions?”

He flushed.

“Ah, I apologize. I've not slept in a very long time. I am of course Sticks.' he glared at the Captain as he gave the moniker, there had to be a story there, 'and I'll go around the table for you.”

He started pointing. “From the left, we have Salamander, Pile, and Crone, and Sir Finley Surrat, Sir Dennis Barrington, and Captain Howell, our captain of the guard.”

The first three were obviously magic users: Salamander was a small handsome man with orange hair dressed in oranges and reds; all his clothes had a sort of flame pattern, and he was smoking. More of a dead giveaway could not be given. Pile was the groups Pigpen, in a dirty black robe made of burlap; he even had smudges on his crude featured face. The Crone was a rather ugly looking middle aged human woman, all bony planes and edges, but far from looking witch-like. Almost like a female sticks; She was still glaring at sticks.

“Katerine is my given name. Please call me by it, and don't be like these other assholes.”

Sir Finley Surrat coughed.

“I'm Muse, and I'm pleased to meet you. These are my friends, Matt, and Karl.”

“Pleased to meet you all.' Captain Howell drawled back at us – was he southern, and if so how did that translate so well? 'Now, if you'll come over here, we will try to answer your questions so that you may take the answers back to your patch of the world.

They led us to the table, where a map rested. The map was new and showed the castle we were in. A significant portion of the map around Toledo was covered in a faded pink color. I recognized it as having come from a type of pigment from crushed rocks, and rubbed into the parchment. Shrewsberry was newly colored.

“The colored region is the one we know for sure is like the surrounding area. We were going to mark suspected areas too, but Cro – err Katerine correctly mentioned that it would hamper later marking efforts on a now very expensive map, so we decided not to.”

Katerine elbowed him. “They didn't need to know that, you dolt.”

I focused on the map while they argued.

The area colored in was large in square miles, but there were very few areas marked out from farther out than Shrewsberry – which I'd sort of expect, given the state of travel now. What was less than reassuring were the two small areas marked with a skull and crossbones. I doubted Johnny Depp had found some friends and set up shop, which meant they were marking danger. A third sported the same symbol, but I knew all about it – Georgetown.

“What about these spots?” Karl had noticed, and didn't hesitate; his finger was tapping the skull closest to him.

“Well, that one is the old quarry. It used to be an old coal mine but reconverted itself when everything else did. The only reason we know that is because of old maps; to date, only one scout sent into the area has returned, and he said he some really large people there… giants.

The other spot is the town of Normal, which isn't anymore.' he grinned, but the rest of us failed to laugh, so he stopped. 'A day after whatever happened, happened, the town was taken over by rioting orcs, who have been there ever since. Talks are currently ongoing to resolve the issue peacefully, but that's all I really know. We've been a little busy looking for the root cause, rather than dealing with symptoms.”

“Find anything interesting?” I'm an idiot; I shouldn't have interrupted. Sticks didn't seem to mind though, or even notice. His eyes were bright as he replied.

“No, although your own report does lead us into some interesting territory in that regard.”

Matt did it this time. “How so?”

“Well, Georgetown wasn't a ghost town in any sense of the word. Now it is. But it's more than that – according to the report that captain Sark gave us, you stated that time worked differently there, and at different locations within the town?”

“From what I observed, yes. It seemed too risky to stay and observe the process, but that is what I – what we all saw.”

“Right, well it's more than we had to go on. With that sort of phenomenon happening, it's not that big a stretch to say that whatever happened was dimensionally related.

Katerine snorted. “Says you. I think it's a large stretch, especially considering that we only have one incident to go on, and that only on the word of some people we don't know – no offense, dear.”

Dear, huh? “None taken.”

Sticks almost slapped her with a waving arm.

“But it's not just one incident! There are other reports, dozens, all stating the same kinds of things!”

“All even less substantiated than this one, and on a much smaller scale! We haven't proven anything with this!” Katerine fired back.

Clearly this was an argument they had argued before.

“But this is a fully substantiated report, witnessed and signed by several people, and investigated by our own troops!”

Katerine huffed and crossed her arms. “It's a start, is what it is. And that's all it is.”

Sir Surrat coughed again.

“So, Lady Muse. Do you have anything to add to your observations as reported to us?”

The implications of the event being some sort of time effect we all suffered were staggering; if these people had other reports, no matter how unsubstantiated they were, it didn't look good.

“Just that I'm not sure those ghosts there were ghosts, after all. At least now. If time was affecting them differently they probably died, but if it was another sort of dimensional interaction, then they might just be – trapped. And unable to do anything.”

Something which in my opinion was far more horrifying. Sticks broke that train of thought as it was leaving the station.

“You mean like the town and everything in it was out of phase, or similar?”

“That's exactly what I mean, but I don't see how it would work. It seems pinned to a locale, but if it's fixed then why doesn't it stay put when the Earth moves, or even move to another location? Having it fixed in one place, on one town, seems suspicious.”

Katerine shook her finger at us both. “It's all unfounded speculation, and that's enough of that.' She put a hand in Stick's face, forestalling his retort. 'I'm not saying you're wrong, I'm saying we don't have enough information to know, and it may be detrimental to pursue one avenue of thought when there might be others we never consider as a result.”

I actually agreed. “Another thing to consider is that what happened in Georgetown and other places, may be a symptom of something else related to the cause we're looking for but not related to the cause itself. It's not likely, but it's something we can't ignore.”

They both stared at me, mouths open. Salamander face-palmed in the background, muttering something I heard clearly: “Not another one.”

Sticks recovered first. “True, it wouldn't do to get ahead of ourselves. More expeditions will need to be sent, and our current ones informed of the possibility of more Georgetowns. Captain Sark, please send more runners.”

Salamander face palmed again, while Captain Howell paled.

“We cannot send any more runners; the last group we sent haven't returned yet. We simply don't have anyone to spare.”

That was a lie, I was sure of it. There were plenty of people around if you weren't paranoid. What did the guy in charge, this Duke Oher, think was going to happen? Was it Duke Oher? I was pretty sure Captain Sark had told me it was, at one point. At any rate, the man seemed a little too fixated on security.

I was pretty sure Captain Howell knew what I was thinking; he didn't call me on it though. Captain Sark went the table and snagged a drink; he was a very brave man, there were probably flies in it or something.

“So, Lady Muse, your report says you've seen dinosaurs and kobolds in your travels?”

I nodded. “Yes. The dinosaur actually attacked Solace. I don't mean to sound arrogant, but it was only quick spell-work that saved lives. In fact, if there are other towns that are not covered the way Solace was, troops should be dispatched to serve there.”

I wouldn't say Solace 'is' covered since I'm not there and I didn't trust the magical backup they had in my stead.

Sir Surrat coughed. “We do in fact have troops on their way, even to the borders of the kingdom, in order to protect the populace. Those that need the help, that is.”

And also to secure the borders against invasion no doubt. The lord here was definitely on the paranoid side. Whatever, it worked for us. The more people flooding areas, the more information we got. I wasn't even sure it was a bad thing.

“So, since we shared, mind if you return the favor, so we can do our due diligence?”

Katerine looked at me sourly, while Sticks just shook his head.

“The cribs notes version is we are just as lost as you are. No idea what happened or why, though it's beginning to look like it had something to do with time or other dimensions, somehow.”

“Well then, can I read your reports and dispatches? Would you mind?”

Captain Howell gestured expansively. “Not all all; be our guest.”

I took a seat and a stack of parchment… and then the Captain slapped down a much larger stack next to me with a grin. “I'd take it as a favor if you'd organize them by region, according to the map there.”

It was going to be a long night.

I yawned and sipped my tea, wishing I had more; my travel cup (carved lovingly from wood by an artisan who used to be an artist – a sculptor) was not insulated, and the tea within had long since grown cold. I flexed my fingers in my gloves.

It was an unusually chilly morning, so why was I out in it?

The quarry was covered in a light fog which obscured vision past a hundred feet. Good for us to avoid detection as we sat over it, but bad for us to actually see what was going on below us.

A mining operation, conducted by people ten feet or taller without any power tools. They simply slammed rocks together with enough force to shatter them, then picked through what remained. I knew it was still going on because I could hear it, and we'd watched it happen before the fog rolled in. I also knew about the forges, used to smelt the metal once it was found. So we knew what they were after.

What the stone blocks being made for some hundred feet away from that I had no clue, but houses would be my guess. The entire area was denuded of trees and that left me feeling exposed, even with the fog surrounding us.

Another sip of bitter cold tea and I glanced to our fearless leader.

Karl had been given specific orders. While my mandate from the powers that be at Toledo was to look for magic and magic explanations, Karl's was simple. Ask the Giants to move; if they wouldn't move, force them to. That was the job we'd been given to keep our access to the information network the lord of Ohio was creating.

In a word, it was bullshit. It sickened me. There was some hope for a peaceful resolution, but if these giants were like the kind I'd read about, I didn't have much. Giants were stupid, historically. I'd have to try very hard not to allow that past history with giants to color my current perceptions of them.

“What do you think, Lady Muse?”

“I think we try to negotiate.”

Randolf growled in disgust and almost threw the rock he was holding. He stopped at the last minute only because he wasn't sure if it would give us away; he was even more anti-giant than I was. He wasn't really fond of anything, really. Even his fellow humans.

“Right, no doubt about that, but how do we make sure we all live if negotiations go south? Not wanting to kill is one thing, but....”

“Yeah, I'm with you. I'm thinking.” How could we cover our retreat if we go down there to talk with the people that might be angry, territorial, and the weakest of which could chuck a rock better than a catapult could? If we pissed them off, we'd have seconds, at best.

“I'm actually a fan of not going down there at all. At least, not in person.” I finally decided.

“Illusions and trickery? Smoke and mirrors? I approve but didn't figure you as the type.” Phil stated. I couldn't even see him, he was blended in so well.

“I'm not, normally. But I can handle a simple projection of Karl and add his words to it easily enough.” The elements were more my forte if anything was; I was pretty versatile.

“Sure, sounds like a plan.” Karl agreed. “But am I the one going to be doing the talking, or are you?”

“Well, you are. You tell me what to say, and the projection says it. We will have to be a bit closer for this to work, though. The outskirts of their operation, at least.” My range for such a complex illusion was a bit better than that, but I needed to hear what they said, and with the fog muting sound that was problematic.

Of course, that same effect made it much easier to sneak up on a people who had ears big enough to fit my hand in... if I wanted to do such a thing in the first place. We crept down carefully, near one of the trails the giants made but not on it, and stopped behind one of the frankly huge stone walls that were being erected; I could peek around it and see the broad strokes of what was going on, which was another plus.

“Hm, I can make us all invisible too, if you want.”

Pastor Collins chimed in, his whisper hoarse. “I can further mute any sounds we make.”

“Not sure that's a good idea,” Brian whispered back. “Won't that mute sound coming to us, too? And any communication we need to make?”

Karl shook his head even as Pastor Collins nodded his. “Yeah, let's not do that. Save it though, for a quick getaway if we need it. Having these people not able to pinpoint us could mean the difference between playing catch and not. Go ahead Muse, your show.”

I looked at him,fixing his features in my mind. It probably wasn't important what the puppet looked like, but I wanted to show I meant what I said about Karl calling the shots. Some focus, and more concentration than I expected, and there it was, a clone of Karl made of light and will. I made it walk around. It walked just like him, and the boots met the ground as expected. I could even make him stumble over loose stones, silently.

The steady pressure in the back of my head wasn't unexpected, but it was unwelcome. A mental command and sound was added, at a very low volume; I whispered, and clone Karl whispered in Karl's voice right along with me.

“She sells seashells by the seashore.”

Karl gave me a 'really?' look so I shrugged at him. “Alright good to go.”

Having clone Karl say that right next to me ear was disconcerting. Karl motioned the go-ahead so I had the clone march straight into town as if he owned the place. I also cast a quick as mass invisibility in the meantime. We would all be visible to each other as blue outlines, but not visible to anyone else. It didn't take long for clone Karl to be noticed, and one giant started over. I adjusted the sound.

“Take me to your leader.” Well, that was loud and clear and caused more of the giants to notice him.

I could feel the almost physical pressure of more of those stares from my companions. So I was a nerd and I sucked at improvising; sue me. If Karl wanted something better, he should have told me first.

The clone of Karl was soon surrounded. One giant, standing at fourteen feet tall and bellowing orders, strode up. He also had more of his kind looking for other intruders. I was happy we were invisible. I did notice the language being spoken wasn't one I knew.

Then he switched to English. Or whatever passed as English, now. Some common language all peoples seemed to share, or at least all the ones I've met so far. “Who are you?”

I started repeating Karl; reading his lips and making the sounds come from my illusion.“My name is Karl, and I represent the duchy of Ohio. I came to see what happened to the people who were living here, and the previous scouts.”

The giant tasted the word as if unfamiliar with it. “Duchy of Ohio? We know nothing of this kingdom of Ohio. We needed a home, and this area looked promising, so we took it. There were none to contest us. There were humans who came after, but they attacked us, so we killed them. They were weak. Are you weak?”

“No. What of those?” I had my projection point to the rubble of obviously human made houses.

“They were empty when we came. No one was using them, so we knocked them down.”

So either the mining town that was here vanished in whatever happened or they ran when they saw the giants and the giants decided that meant the place was abandoned. The former seemed less likely since there were reports from and about the town for at least a day after the event. But if not that, then where did the population go? They should have been around to say something if they had just run off, giants or no giants.

If the soldiers behind us decided the giants had done something, there would be bloodshed. I didn't want that if the giants were innocent. If they were guilty, and this one was lying to us, well, I'd probably start things off myself. But we needed proof, and I didn't really see anything definitive here. No graves or bones or anything lying around, no freshly turned earth. Seemed the giants just wanted whatever was in the rock itself, or to shape rock; I didn't know.

Some new/old instinct, perhaps.

Come to think of it, they said they killed the scouts for attacking them; if so, where were those bodies?

Karl came to the conclusion at the same time I did and made me ask. The answer was better than I expected. The boss pointed to the other side of their settlement or camp or whatever. “We made cairns for them.”

There were three, and they were very solid. So, they didn't eat humans, or if they did they were restraining themselves. And no village worth of corpses.

“You have settled on Ohio land, and if you wish to remain, you must submit yourselves to the authority of the Duke.” I stared at Karl as I repeated it; the duke had actually prepared a for this eventuality? Even told Karl to say that line for it? He nodded. Well, things were going to go to hell quick.”

“Is this Duke you speak of strong?”

Well, that wasn't the answer I expected. It was probably leading to it, though.

“Yes, he is.”

The giant nodded. “Good, then we fight, and the stronger one keeps the land. Tell him to come. You leave now unless you want to fight.”

Yep, it led right where I thought it might.

“I will tell him, and I'll leave. I'll come again.”

The giant nodded again. “Okay. Leave now.”

At Karl's direction, I walked the projection out of the circle of gathered giants, making sure to match the sounds up. Once back to us, I cut it and just managed to hold back the grateful sigh; that sort of thing was hard to do for extended periods.

“Let's get out of here before they realize there's more of us. One guy may not seem a threat to them, but all of us here skulking around? That will piss them off.”

I had no doubt about that, and the fog was beginning to lift. Karl gave pastor Collins the high sign, and an eerie silence dropped. We snuck out. We'd gotten back up the trail successfully, going wide past four different giants who were looking for intruders and were in the clear by the time the silence spell cut out. I dropped my own spell right after, not bothering to stifle the sigh this time.

Phil looked at me. “Why are you on your tip-toes?”

I looked down, then dropped to my feet. Oops. “I was sneaking. Everyone knows that when you sneak, you do it on tip-toes.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.”

I sniffed at him. “You just have no proper respect for sneaking etiquette. A shame really, considering your profession. Well, your new profession.”

Phil grinned widely, taking a drink from a skin I knew didn't contain water. And this early, too. “Old profession too, for all that I didn't get caught. Don't look so surprised, you knew I was a hood; everyone did.”

“I wasn't surprised at that, just surprised that you admitted it, and in front of the local law.”

Karl chimed in. “We never could pin anything on him, and he knew it. Even now, without a specific admission, I can't do anything and he knows it.”

Ethan, who had been so quiet the entire morning that I'd forgotten he was there, finally spoke up. “As riveting as all this is, can we talk about it later, when we're all safe and not facing death by rock burial?”

He sounded pretty irritated but had a point.

Karl thirded it. “Yep, agreed, time to leave and meet our friendly liaison.”

Or friendly liaison was the commander of the soldiers a few miles behind us. A full hundred men, all armed and armored, led by one captain Kruger Short. Captain Short was cold and aloof, or at least he had been last night when we met him. Our job had been to scout the location and report back, then offer magical support in the event of a threat while his soldiers eradicated the menace. I wasn't sure I liked the word choice.

I had my suspicions, but I'd wait and see.

The hike back, a good two miles down a fully paved cart road, was an easy one. Nothing jumped us, which actually made me more nervous. A little screwed up, I had to admit, but there it was. Captain Short was waiting for us on a field just off the quarry road. While he still had a number of men with him, he was somewhat shy of the hundred and twenty or so he had started with.

That was actually a good thing. With the number of giants down there, even men in armor with a squad of cavalry wasn't enough to actually attack with, so the chances of a peaceful resolution just went up; but I did wonder where the others had gone.

“Ah, there you are, back safe and sound. So, what news do you have for me?” He directed the question at Karl, visibly ignoring me entirely, even though we were walking right next to each other.

“Well, your scouts managed to piss off a large group of giants and got themselves killed. Somehow, all three of them. The giants claim the village of workers was abandoned when they found it. They tore it all down and moved in, and are making their own settlement. We didn't see any evidence of graves or corpses, and no evidence the giant's were lying; they buried the scouts, but not anyone else. Admittedly, we didn't look too hard; I thought you should know what's going on before we risked getting discovered.

Captain Short looked us all over, frowning. “That's appreciated, but the job is only half done, then. You need to go back and find any evidence there; if you can, find out where the workers went and where they are now. I've got patrols checking on the towns nearby, so you won't need to do that.”

Ah, so that's where they went.

“Of course, the giants will still need to answer for the lives of our scouts, but the workers and their families are our first priority.”

I couldn't stay silent at that. “What are you going to do? Attack them? Kill them all?”

Captain Short looked at me the first time, his outrage plain to see. “Of course not, don't be stupid. But murders must be answered for. Only the guilty parties will be punished.”

He meant the leader, no doubt, the one who answered our questions. As the one in charge, he was responsible – but that really wasn't a good idea. I had no real idea how the giants might take the arrest of their leader, but I doubted it was well.

Nevertheless, he had a point. Not punishing murderers would cause problems later, and it was the right thing to do besides. At least the decision wasn't mine to make. I wasn't going to support his decision either, not if I could help it. I wasn't along to help kill a bunch of giants who might have been human before, and could have been provoked into killing. Not that anyone knew that yet. With luck, they wouldn't need to find out.

Was the rule of law even the same anymore? It couldn't be, the circumstances were all wrong, and yet I didn't want to believe it was. At the same time I knew that if the giants had found and attacked us, lethal force to escape was an option I wouldn't have hesitated on. It probably made me a hypocrite, somehow.

Of course, it didn't help that I didn't trust Captain Short; it felt like he was looking down his nose at something disgusting every time he looked at me, and trying not to inhale a foul stench. I was half tempted to show him what a foul stench was.

“Alright, time we should be going, right Karl?” Brian stated, moving up to my side, and I realized I'd been staring – well, glaring really – at Captain Short.

I didn't think asking him about his plans was stupid in the least. Antagonizing him, perhaps, but not simple questions.

Karl agreed. “Yep. Time to go. Come on, Muse, let's go find some villagers.”

Together they all but manhandled me away from the Captain and his men, and soon we were headed back down the road towards the giants.

“What are you even doing, antagonizing the armed man like that?” Randolf had the nerve to ask.

I looked to Karl, and he sped up, but not before I could see the disapproval on his face. Brain's face was much more open. “I was trying to make sure he wasn't going to go through like a scythe and kill a bunch of people in cold blood.”

“They aren't people, they are giants. Large, ugly, dumb, murderous brutes.” Randolf scoffed.

Pastor Collins sided with me. “She's right. Murder is wrong, no matter how big the person is.”

I couldn't believe what I just heard. “Not that long ago, less than two weeks, in fact, giants didn't exist. Can you be so sure about that? Them being dumb and murderous? They could have been rocket scientists or physicists before.”

Randolf shook his head in disbelief. “But they aren't now. We have to deal with the now, not the past.”

“No reason we can't try to deal with both. We are trying to figure out what happened in order to reverse it after all.” Thomas answered him - before I could. I couldn't have said it better myself, actually.

Randolf said nothing, but clearly, he did not believe in the mission anymore, if he ever did. On that I wasn't sure I could blame him; this was daunting. It looked like the entire planet was affected, at least from where we sat.

“Alright, enough. Quiet, and focus. I don't want to get buried alive. Lady Muse, can you still cast your invisibility?”

I nodded. “Sure, I can do it again. A few more times.”

“Good, that'll be the plan, when we get close.”

We walked, getting off the road as we got closer. The fog was gone, so we were forced to take it easy and slow to remain as silent as possible. There were still giants everywhere, looking around.

Pastor Collins cast his silence spell, (which ironically was a somewhat loud prayer requesting silence, and therefore not silent itself) and we carefully picked through the remains of the human settlement. The closest thing to a crime was rotten food. No bodies, human or animal.

I was beginning to feel the strain of my spell when someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was Phil, and he made a bunch of signs. Since I had no idea what the hell he was actually signing, he sighed soundlessly and gestured me away. We all regrouped and he led us away.

I hadn't even noticed Phil leave the first time, but when he led me away from the settlement ruins and to the edge of the forest near a gully, it was obvious he had at some point. At some point in that trek, sound returned, and we were all treated to the lovely sound of Randolf kicking rocks with metal shoes.

We all glared at him, even Karl. Why not? Ethan was fully armored too, and he was quieter.

“So, footprints.' Phil whispered, pointing them out. 'Not a whole bunch, but enough. There was a large number of people, human – or elf – sized, that went through here, and they did it all at the same time.”

Thomas studied the prints. “Yep. About a week ago, maybe a bit longer. Should be easy to track.”

Karl took a look, then stood up. “Lead on, then.”

I didn't bother. Both Phil and Thomas were better than I was, even if I did know what I was looking at, and I wasn't about to go grubbing in the dirt more. I followed along as we dodged giants. It was getting harder and harder to focus, and objects around my peripheral vision were getting fuzzy. I realized my breath was coming in gasps.

This was bad. “Wait. Got to stop....” I released the invisibility spell, and everyone stopped, ducking down and looking around for the threat. I started feeling better immediately.

I slid down a tree and took a seat. “Sorry. Just couldn't hold it any longer.”

Brain crouched beside me, a water skin in hand. “Nah, we should have asked. Still, almost two hours, for all of us. That's not bad at all.”

I took a gulp. “Sorry, it wasn't really affecting me... until it was.”

Karl blocked the light. “You should tell us if something is affecting you.”

“That's just the thing... normally it doesn't work like that. I cast the spell, the spell works, and then cancels when it runs out of energy. That's all. I'm not sure why this spell worked differently.”

“This looks as good a spot as any to take a rest. What do you say, boss man?” Ethan asked.

I looked at him gratefully while he pretended not to notice. Karl shrugged. “Sure. No giants around, everyone take five.”

I was tired, sure, but I wasn't made of glass, and I recovered quickly. Five minutes later I was ready to go – only no one seemed to believe it.

They were all still lounging around, looking almost obscenely fresh. Throwing twigs at each other, or just staring off into the distance. Ethan was braiding rope, of all things. I got up... and no one got up with me. So I could either say 'I'm ready' and look like an ass, or just stand there.

I grabbed my own canteen. Water was all well and good, but skins made it taste weird; filtering it through wood was much better. At least Pastor Collins was breathing hard too.

Brian threw a twig at me; it stuck in my hair. I pulled it out and sent it back.

Randolf got involved. “You know, it is around lunchtime. I could definitely use some lunch.”

“Sure, break out the trail rations.” Karl assented.

I swear it was a plot. I was NOT made of glass. We could even be eating while moving – after all, this was kind of a time sensitive case here.

We ate. I cracked open my book and tried not to glare. I wasn't really needed as a pair of extra eyes. Soon enough I was getting tapped on the shoulder.

“Time to go,” Brian whispered, apologetically. He offered me a hand up, which I took.

Almost a shame, really. Reading about water and how it exists to flow gently and exploit ruthlessly was interesting. Unscientific, but interesting. Also, nothing I didn't already know; the grand canyon exists after all. Or maybe that's 'existed', but the book made it sound like it was an intelligent decision. Or at least that there was more at work than simple cold facts and chemistry.

I wasn't a believer yet, but I was getting there. I'd just made people invisible earlier today, after all; something physics said was impossible. Well, conventional physics anyway.

“Thomas are we still following those tracks?”

“Sure are, Lady Muse. Something you would know if you bothered to check.”

“That's what you're along for.” Well, him and Phil both, really.

If Thomas was feeling confident enough to joke, I was pretty sure we were out of giant country.

We continued to follow the tracks. For hours. We didn't see anything in the meantime; nothing dangerous, nothing harmless. Not even squirrels or birds. It reminded me uncannily of Georgetown, though there didn't seem to be any of the same crackling tension in the air; it was more as if anything alive and mobile had better places to be.

To be fair I still heard creatures stirring, I just didn't see them. Perhaps it wasn't that odd, considering I was walking with two noisy ironworks with legs.

The problem was we still hadn't found any villagers by an hour towards nightfall. We circled to decide what to do about that.

“We can't go on, we don't know enough about what's ahead,” Thomas whispered.

I agreed with that.

“But we should just push through another hour, they might not be that far ahead, and then we're done.” If anything Randolf sounded disgusted with the whole trek. I guess if he viewed the entire expedition as a massive waste of time (as he seemed to), that was reasonable.

The other issue was how to get in touch with Captain Short, and let him know we were still on the job and where; we hadn't crossed any other towns or villages. Which might also be a little odd, but I wasn't sure; wouldn't a group of refugees head towards civilization, and not away from it?

Without a horse, trying to send someone back and expecting them to reach us by morning was stupid. So Karl, of course, turned to – Pastor Collins? What?

“Can you send a message to Captain Short? Will your goddess allow you to?”

Pastor Collins nodded, with a glance to me. Nervous? “Yes, I believe so. I can ask, of course.”

I kept setting up my tent, but when Karl walked by I couldn't keep silent. “I could send messages too, you know. Probably easier than Collins can.”

Collins glanced over from where he was building the fire up as Karl stopped. Yes, he was definitely nervous about something.

“Sure, but Captain Short doesn't like you, and you don't seem to like him much either, so having Pastor Collins do it seemed like a good idea. You can handle the direct report to the Duke's agents at Toledo.”

I gaped at him. Was he going over Captain Short's head?

He grinned at me. “Captain Stone asked for reports too, and while I'm sure he meant from Captain Short, he never said as much and I was there. I'm also sure your friend Twig would like to know what's going on.”

I shook my head. “His name is Stick.”

“Whatever. Will you do it?”

“Sure, but why?” I was already forming the bird of light and air which would relay the messages to the capitol. The bird was more flashy, but it would be easier and more effective in the long run.

Karl shrugged. “Man strikes me as a bit of a bigot, and I want our backsides covered. Going to see about hunting a little.” He ghosted into the woods before I could finish casting and collect myself.

Just when I thought I had him figured out, Karl surprised me. I probably owed him an apology of some sort. I made sure the alarm spells I cast excluded him and tuned out the sounds of the good Pastor's chanting as he started his own message spell.

I was pretty sure mine was more efficient. I was finished with the alarms before he was with his prayers, after all.

Phil came back, throwing his sleeping bag near the fire and throwing himself down on it. I hadn't even realized he'd been gone, though it made sense; there was work to do, after all. Pastor Collins didn't so much as flinch at the noise or production.

“The tracks just keep going.”

I frowned. That was odd. We were fast on foot, despite one of us being a dwarf. We were at least as fast as a group of refugees saddled with gear. They should have bed down for the night close to where we were, as this was close to maximum walking distance for a day and we hadn't passed a campsite earlier. So did they just not stop? And if so, what scared them so much they left their town and kept going? Buildings of any kind were at least cover; it didn't make any sense.

Karl came back as Pastor Collins finished up.

“No Game at all. Well?”

Pastor Collins went first. “Captain short knows and approves. He said to keep going until you find them; his scouts found no evidence of any of them in the other towns or villages around here. Not so much as a farmer had seen them, he said.”

That was odd.

“Lady Muse?”

Oh, right. “All parties that need to know will be informed by the end of the night. My bird will bring back all their replies.”

“Good enough.” I frowned. He sounded like he had an issue there, perhaps with the speed of my spell? As if trying to inform a bunch of people and hear their replies could be done all at once. Sure, anyone could do that for one person, but several?

“Impressive.” Pastor Collins noted. At least he knew the difference.

“As I was just saying before interrupted,' Phil interrupted. 'the tracks keep going, steadily.”

“How deep are they?” Brian asked.

“Not very. I'd have to say unloaded if asked, but I'd be more happy about it if someone else could verify.”

Thomas just nodded and stood up. I threw some trail bread and jerky his way; with no game that was supper. I could hear him crunch down on the stuff as he left, and winced. I'd stick with my own trail mix, less likely to lose a tooth that way.

“Think it's safe to say something is going on,” Karl admitted, taking his own share of the food I was passing out.

Ethan took his share and bit in with gusto. I wasn't worried about his teeth at all; they were probably granite. “Are we safe here?”

“Safe enough,” I answered. “I've got alarm spells and wards all around us, so if anyone or anything that isn't us tries to entire the clearing we'll know.”

Sure, it wasn't perfect, but we wouldn't wake up with giants piling rocks on us.

“Good.”

We all waited. Thomas came back, and I actually spotted him before I had Phil, though I didn't hear him. I busied myself scanning for the light of tell-tale fires nearby; there weren't any.

“Phil's right. The tracks just keep going, even and unloaded. Something is definitely wrong with them.”

“Great. I'm going to bed, enjoy your night. Don't forget to wake me up for watch.”

I wouldn't put it past Brian to try and let me sleep buddy system or not, and I didn't want to miss my bird coming back. Sure, it should last until it reports in, but something weird also happened earlier, with my magic. I didn't want to take chances.

At least there were still crickets to hear and fall asleep to; complete silence would always be eerie.

Morning dawned, bright and early. I was alive and rock free, so plan A was a rousing success.

I dressed and opened my tent; only Karl was awake, poking the fire with a stick and muttering. He looked up as I stepped out, forewarned by the noise. Phil shifted slightly in his ratty bedroll.

"Good morning, Karl."

"Good morning, Lady Muse."

"What, no coffee?" I half joked. I could really go for coffee right now, or even the much easier to make tea.

"I didn't feel like wandering off to collect wood in the dark," was Karl's answer.

I turned to face the rising sun. "A good point. So it was all quiet last night?" I'd almost said after I passed out dead to the world, but that wasn't the impression I wanted to give.

"Yeah. There were some giants that walked by a few hundred yards that way," Karl pointed back the way we'd come. "But they were loud and didn't see us."

"I see." I'd slept right through that. It was a safe bet I hadn't fooled anyone.

"So, what happened to you yesterday, Lady Muse?"

"I don't know. Something about the area we passed through seemed to sap my vitality, and maintaining the invisibility spell on us didn't help; either I'm not well suited for such a spell, or the drain required to hold it goes up the longer I maintain it. I'm still new at this magic thing, so when we hit that area - well, it caught me by surprise, is all."

Karl's face thundered and his voice became a low hiss. "If you think your spells can fail, you need to tell us first! If we rely on your magic and it fails at a critical moment...."

"Bullshit; I did warn you. I told you how long we had, and I kept it up longer. You don't need to act like I suddenly became unreliable. I've told you all the risks so far, at least all I know of. How can I be faulted for a new experience!?! There was something wrong with the ground we moved through yesterday, and it messed me up. Don't act like you didn't notice."

Karl's face twisted into something unreadable, but I didn't need to read it to know I scored a hit.

"Pastor Collins said the same thing." he admitted.

If he wanted to question my competence (again) that was fine. He could get all the second opinions he wanted. The real question was something else, however.

"Did he say what it was?" Because I had to admit I had no clue, other than it felt like being unable to breathe.

"No, he just said it felt evil. Which is great and all, but it doesn't tell us anything."

Maybe it did. And if it did, the good Pastor had to at least suspect what it was. Maybe he didn't want to worry anyone. I certainly didn't; if I said the word, it would end up happening.

My poker face wasn't as good as Karl's. "You know something?"

I busied myself with readying water for boiling; there should still be enough heat left in the embers for that. "I suspect something. I don't want to say it and be wrong."

"Come on, spill." Karl insisted.

I sighed. "Fine, but I could be wrong. I want that clear, here."

He nodded, leaning forward eagerly.

"The key is the pace. The townspeople are walking at an even pace, without varying, through broken terrain, and beating us. They are also not weighed down by baggage, or much baggage. The patch of ground we passed last night could have been unhallowed ground, I don't know what you call it. Something that saps magic or life energy."

I was guessing life energy, myself.

"So you're guessing undead."

I nodded. As chilling as it was, when you undead into the rest of the puzzle pieces, it made sense. But all of the villagers, converted to undead? I didn't want to see it. Even worse, I didn't want to see whatever could do that, and do it so quickly.

"Right, well, thanks for sharing. Next time, no matter how bad you think the news is, don't make sharing your speculations like pulling teeth."

"I don't like sharing weak theories, and this one is pretty weak. But fine."

Karl thought a moment as I broke out the tea... and Phil shifted again. Then he broke the silence again.

"So, no lingering effects from whatever it was yesterday? Also, what do you recommend if it is undead?"

"I recommend not jumping to conclusions until we have more evidence. For all we know, it could be an army of smart kobolds or something."

Karl took some water for his own tea. "Alright, no need to snap. But you feel alright?"

I took a sip and let the bitter and delicious heat warm my insides. "I feel fine. Full of vim and vigor, and all ready to go."

It kind of sucked that I was the only one who was affected by whatever that was yesterday, but it was probably a magic thing.

"Good. So, want some breakfast?"

"Not if it's from this area." I didn't trust it, and I'd rather dig into my own food reserves than forage.

"Fair enough," Karl stated... and then he clapped. Loudly. "Get up! It's morning and time to get moving! We have villagers to save!"

There were groans, and the camp started to stir. Ethan shot me a look as he rolled out of an actual bed of rocks, but I couldn't read it at all.

I looked the other way as the neanderthals put themselves back together; the sunrise was very beautiful, and they were not. Wait, I should probably strike my tent; I pulled my gear out and busied myself doing that, mainly so I didn't get tasked for something else.

It was good that I had because everyone was ready to go by the time I was done; if I'd waited any longer, they would have been waiting on me... and insufferable.

We picked up the trail, and picked up the pace, moving right into what wasn't quite a jog, but was probably as close as one could get in an overgrown area like this. But even with the pace, we didn't seem to make up any ground. If anything we were losing it; there was no evidence of a camp or any signs that the people we were chasing stopped, even for a moment.

"Lady Muse," Karl broke the rather unnatural science, his face serious. "Can you send another bird with an update?"

"Easily. What do you want it to say?"

"That we are still in pursuit of the villagers, or people who were likely to have seen what happened."

Well, that should help delay any action against the giants. "Alright, got it." I formed another bird of light and air and set it free. It should take a few hours to arrive... which would be just in time for the important people to wake up, probably. Rich people didn't normally get up at the crack of dawn.

I turned to Thomas. "So, how close are we?"

He looked up from a track, chewing on a stick, and spoke around it. "We lost time. The good news is we can probably make it up. This is a march we're following, not a sprint."

We kept going, and by the end of the day, even I could tell that we were gaining. However, that wasn't the only thing that was happening; any game that had been in this forest was gone. The forest itself was dying, the trees stunted and leaves a yellow spotted cliche straight from an early movie days sound stage. Not that you could see the color of the leaves in those movies, but I bet they were this kind of brown spotted yellow.

There was a feeling, pervading it. A sort of tense itch behind the shoulder blades and eyes that only got stronger; I'd noted it yesterday, but it was much more localized today. It made me more than a little jumpy and guessing by the darting eyes and unsheathed weapons, I wasn't the only one. Even Ethan was actually being silent for a change.

Almost by unspoken agreement, we all slowed, focusing more on silence than speed. The forest seemed to conspire against us on that front, proving no shortage of dead limbs and brush to part noisily before us.

But despite the feel of the place, and despite the look of it, nothing jumped out at us. When dark fell we stopped, again by unspoken assent. None of us wanted to go anywhere in this forest in the dark.

"Why are we stopping?"

Well, almost all of us. "Because the footing is treacherous, Randolf. Do you want to break a leg?"

I could just see his scowl at my answer in the deepening gloom. "I don't want to mince around this forest all year looking for these missing villagers. We can still push ahead awhile, I say we do it."

We both looked to Karl. He sighed. "I swear, you guys... alright, show of hands. Who wants to camp?"

Every hand but Randolf's shot up.

"Damn it. Come on! Do you all really want to spend the night stuck here?"

No, I was pretty sure none of us did, but the alternative of fumbling around in the dark was worse. I wanted to say that, but I kept my mouth shut with effort.

"Moon will be up tonight, and bright. There won't be many clouds." Thomas noted almost absently as he leaned back against a tree. He then jumped up as the tree creaked under his weight.

That was surprising. I wouldn't have expected Thomas of all people to come down in favor of groping in the dark.

Karl was surprised too. "If we can see, we can try it, but I make no promises. For now, set up and get some sleep in. Randolf and Ethan, first watch."

Well, if we could see we could continue, no matter how bad an idea it was. Whatever was in this forest was stronger at night, I was sure of it. Even if I was just pulling that idea out of my butt, running around a dark forest at night was a bad idea.

I set my wards in a hurry and set up bedroll by firelight. As much as I wanted my tent, there just wouldn't be time if we needed to move later.

No one spoke; we all ate in perfect unnerving quiet, ears straining for any sound that could be from an animal instead of a falling tree or branch. This time, everyone ate from their stores; not even Thomas was willing to hunt here now.

......

I woke with a start to find Matt hovering over me, already back in his armor, and clanking loud enough to raise the dead - or me.

"Lady Muse? Time to get going, the moon is up."

"I'm awake." The moon was indeed up, and while not full, was close enough to it, seeming to over over us with stark brightness, as if to try and rival the sun itself.

Well, I could see well enough; if I wanted I could draw the scenery, down to each fold of the bark on the trees. The humans probably could too.

We packed up and were back on the trail inside of 5 minutes; the worst time waster was picking up my reusable wards. Pastor Collins and Phil both used that time to rub the sleep from their eyes. I eyed the kicked out fire; tea could have helped.

We walked carefully, as soundless as shadow itself, and heard nothing but the occasional branch falling in the breeze.

Nothing jumped out at us. It was clear that by this point fire was to be the biggest concern. The hours passed and the moon sank below the horizon; by that point, we were all tired.

Karl pulled an ember from his pack and lit a small torch I didn't know he had. "Alright, camp again. I'm not losing a foot to a gopher hole."

I tried, but I couldn't sleep. So I read instead, using the firelight and sort of keeping Matt (who had watch) company.

"So what do you think has infected the trees around here?" Matt asked out of the blue.

Well, I could lie, but I didn't feel like it. "Blight. Death itself."

"Well, that's dark."

I shrugged. "You asked."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"What does Pastor Collins say?" There was no way Matt hadn't asked.

"He said it was some disease... but he looked a little off doing it. Constipated no doubt."

Matt had made sure Pastor Collins could hear that last as he walked by, smiling all the while. Pastor Collins didn't waste time responding. "That's totally it. I was staring at that thing you call a face, and suddenly had to go or ruin my clothes."

Wow, brutal. "Good one."

"Thank you. But to answer your next question, the woods might be infected with something... else. But without past experience to compare it to, I just don't know. I will admit the terrain makes me feel uneasy."

"I think it does that for us all," Phil stated around is own crude mouthwash... which was basically pure alcohol from what I could smell.

Karl broke us up with "Get ready to march." Then went off to stand at the edge of camp, trying to look like an bad boy or action movie star or something. With a shrug I doused the fire, pocketing the last of the hot water carefully in my travel cup

We all got settled into a rough formation and started off. I had to work at not spilling any tea.

Hours passed in travel before we found the first body.

It was a deer, thankfully enough, but none of us would be eating venison. It was an old kill, rotten and festering, but with few insects swarming it. It looked to have been clawed or chewed apart. Just a few yards away was another... and this carcass was a bear. Similarly aged and similarly stinky, it was also a little light on insects.

Yeah, I didn't like where this was going. Judging from the smell, these two weren't the only ones.

"What do you think?" I asked Thomas.

"Lot's more where these two came from... but the tracks of the animals have been obliterated by the trail we're following.

It was an actual animal graveyard, of everything from squirrels to deer to bears. Everything that could live in a forest was dead here.

There was also more than a little evidence of fire here; the broken husks of trees were blackened and charred, and the undergrowth was so much ash wafting on the fitful breeze.

So first fire, then a truly massive number of animals, then people marching through? It didn't paint a picture I could make ready sense of, and from the looks of it neither could anyone else.

Unless... no; that was too ghastly. But still, I got up close to a few of the corpses, just to make sure. And I saw it.

Thread.

There was only one reason this squirrel would have thread embedded in it's fur. If it was pieced back together after it died.

"Karl, Pastor. Take a look at this."

Ethan followed the two over. He'd been more quiet and subdued than the rest of us lately, but he took one look and cursed, loudly. Karl's mouth tightened, and Pastor Collins whitened.

"I take it you see this, then? It's not just me?"

"Necromancy!" Ethan spat and cursed again.

"Unless some needed to perform an autopsy on a tree rat, I have to agree with our short friend." Pastor Collins opined.

Just great. I was too tired for this. "I was kind of hoping I'd imagined it."

"No such luck," Tomas ground out. "And we can't even load the normal standard for this sort of thing. The forest is too dead, any out of control fire risks killing us."

Screw that, I was loading fire anyway. Well, that and water, just in case I needed to put out the fire.

"Come on, let's move. Heads on swivels." Karl ordered, and set off. Ugh.

We tightened up a bit but didn't slow down. Every step further was a step into ground where the earth itself seemed to groan under the weight of evil. Or not evil... maybe entropy? Why would I think the absence of life or presence of death evil, whether it's true or not? Was this another foreign thought invading who I was? I'd never thought of death as evil before - if it was, it was very well camouflaged insidiously among the other thoughts I dealt with; nothing like the in-my-face thoughts I'd had the first day after the incident. Or event, or whatever it was.

I couldn't do anything about it, but I wondered if everyone else was having the same issue... or if it was worse for them. Did they even second guess themselves anymore, if they ever did?

Should I still second guess myself?

Before I could come to conclusion night fell.

"We should keep going," Randolf stated, right on cue.

The moon was already out tonight, fat and low, mocking us.

"It's a very bad idea to try and confront a necromancer in the dark if we're still making that assumption."

"A worse idea to wait and let the necromancer find out we're here and come for us. We need to hit them first."

"No," Matt said. "We're going. Now that we suspect necromancy, we should move quickly, and try to save as many people as possible. They can't all be dead."

Shame still felt the same. "You're right, Matt. You're right. Let's go."

Even if I thought differently, we should assume there were lives we could save; if we didn't, we would regret this moment for the rest of our lives.

Karl nodded and stalked off silently; Phil ghosted ahead to mark the best route.

We made very good time and kept going until the moon went under the horizon. Karl stopped and at the all clear hoot from Phil lit a torch. I took that as my signal to drop like a stone; I was in good shape, but tiring was tiring.

I looked at my tent; it was too much effort. Why hadn't I made one that would set itself up? My bedroll was easy at least. There would be no reading tonight.

......
Morning dawned as mornings are wont to do; this one was a little more chilly than the last, with a bit more dew on the ground and a fine mist swirling about our feet. That was good because if someone had to get fire-happy, all the moisture might curtail any spread of it.

Of course, it also brought the smell of decay that much closer to my nose, but I'd accept the tradeoff.

"You're cute when you scrunch your nose up like that," Phil told me with a smirk as he walked by.

Ethan strode along in his wake and made a show of looking me up and down. "I don't see it, man."

"You have to be tall enough to ride the big boy rides, Ethan," Phil told him without breaking stride.

What a jerk.

"How about I chew off your kneecaps, Phil?" Ethan asked as they finished walking out of my range.

Yeah, you tell him short stuff!

Wait, where were they even going? "Karl, where are those two going?"

"To the little boys room. They didn't want to do it in the middle of camp." Well, that was a relief; I was pretty sure no one wanted to see that.

Wait. "Don't bother," Karl continued; "They are using the buddy system, and not going far. No need to worry."

I worried anyway. I packed up, getting ready to move... then realized something.

The trail would be hard to follow until the mist burned off. But the sun was hours away from cooperating from that; it was overcast, and rain was threatening. I took a look; Thomas also decided to take a look.

"Can you follow it?" He asked me.

"Barely. Can you?"

"Sure, it's hardly a small or difficult trail. The targets aren't even trying," he replied. "But it's always nice to have a second and third opinion."

I wasn't sure I liked the choice of the word targets, especially from someone who agreed with us last night on saving lives. But then again, who was I to judge?

"Phil? Randolf?"

"Alright, third or fourth opinion," Thomas admitted. "I haven't actually been doing this as long as it appears."

Good point, I had just been assuming since he was the woodsman he could do it and do it easily when he had only been a woodsman for as long as I've been throwing spells. I had to remember that while other people were assuming about me, I was assuming about them.

We got ready to move - and Ethan and Phil came back, all but linked arm in arm. I hoped they washed their hands, but didn't have the guts to ask.

We moved in order of line, following the trail beaten into the dead undergrowth. This time, however, even I could tell we were catching up. That track there for example, despite being washed out by the dew, it was easy to tell it was laid yesterday. Probably early yesterday, but the leaf fallen in it made it clear the track was laid before the wind gusts yesterday, but not baked well enough to set.

I didn't really need to deal with it, though, bracketed how I was. I just needed to deal with the normal idiocy.

"He's right, you know," Matt said from behind me, pointing at Phil.

"Right about what?" The age of the tracks, the length of time the cloud cover would last? Or even how close we were?

"When you smell something rank and scrunch your face up, it makes you look very cute."

Oh, my Gods. "Shut up and focus, you idiot."

"Oh I am, I am."

"On your surroundings. Your other surroundings."

"Will do. Don't worry Lady Muse, I won't let you take an arrow in the knee!"

He really went there. "That was bad, and you should feel bad."

Matt tended to joke under pressure, and he was really cutting loose this morning. It wouldn't do to take it personally.

I wasn't sure how long the change had... changed, but I noticed about mid-morning.

There were birds in some of the trees. Not many, and not in every tree, but every once in awhile as we traveled, perhaps every hundred yards or so, there was a crow watching us as we passed with unblinking eyes in utter silence.

I signaled Karl, but rather than dropping back he just nodded. So, he knew then.

The stench of old death started to grow, to overpower everything else; even the clean tang of the mist, which if anything, seemed thicker than before.

We were being set up. The final straw was the first sounds we heard from our surroundings in days, carried by the weather and terrain so that it appeared to come from all around us - whimpering and sobbing.

A house loomed suddenly, a short squat thing made of logs, previously hidden by a line of trees. The windows were broken but the structure appeared strong. I was almost certain the sounds were coming from there.

The roof of the house was covered in silent unblinking crows.

There were two bodies near the door; one very old, and one new. The old one was stretched out full length as if running from the house, and the new one was slumped over in a chair on the small porch. They had the old faded burlap garments one would expect from poor villagers.

Karl broke the silence. "Hello?"

I stared at him then quickly refocused. Was he an idiot? You didn't ever give away your position like that! You should always make the horror movie bad guys work for it.

The sobbing cut off abruptly, but the whimpering continued. Then a new sound joined it; a mangled sort of yelling that made my blood run cold.

The crows all flapped their wings at once and cawed, the sound like a gravel-filled scream from a thousand throats.

I started focusing my power, and Pastor Collin's white glow drew my eye; I didn't let it distract me.

The bodies all around us, all standing up as the crows took off as one? That was distracting.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!" Thank you for the color commentary Matt, I'm aware the crows are diving on us. They broke off the shield I snapped into place. Well, most of them; two got through. Randolf knocked them out of the air with well-timed sword and shield blows.

The rest treated my shield as window; which was good since it was my strongest one and I couldn't keep it up forever. Then I realized they were coming at us in more than the directions my semi-circle was covering; Matt driving me to the ground with a yelled "Get down!" was my first clue.

Being squished by someone wearing mail hurt, and he almost brained me with the shield.

But his heart was in the right place since I felt the birds bouncing off it silently. If he hadn't held the shield up they would have been bouncing beak first off my unprotected face. A quick glance up showed the birds coming around for another pass, or cutting through my friends.

Then Pastor Collins got involved. "In the name of Minerva, be at peace!"

The rebuke spread in a radius, and bird bodies dropped like noxious hail when it hit them. There were still a few around, but their numbers were cut drastically.

That only left all the human zombies, currently closing in.

A ball of fire washed over my shield, incinerating more of the enemy. My shield held but faded; I'd lost the focus required to hold it, and it was destined to fail. The body on the porch stood up with a cackle I could hear.

Oh. So that was our necromancer.

"Thought you could hunt ole Enas, did you? Thought he wouldn't know? Well, these are my woods! Mine! And I always know!"
Why do they always talk? Yes, thank you crazy person, we know you're crazy. My lightning bolt lanced through the crowd and knocked him off the porch. He'd dodged the worst of it though, somehow; he wasn't jittery or seizing on the ground.

"Lady Minerva, protect us!" Pastor Collins yelled, holding his amulet aloft. The brilliance around it surged painfully, and the zombies who had been attempting to claw our front line apart staggered back, boiling and hissing like disgusting teakettles.

"Annoying." Enas spat, and a bar of pure darkness struck out from his hands to strike Pastor Collins in the chest; Collins went down like a stringless puppet, landing face first in a puddle.

"Matt!" I pointed with one hand, drawing my will in the other.

"On it!" He replied, and started over. Ethan was already there, however, having somehow crossed the distance fast enough to block the next wave of crows from attacking Pastor Collins directly. I left them to it.

Lightning didn't work, huh? We didn't need more fire. An elemental could work. Earth? No, Air. Much harder to spot and nuke.

The call formed in a hurry and I sent it, I could see the elemental form behind the figure of the necromancer, but I doubt anyone else could.

Then I dodged, avoiding a sickly purple beam that shot out from the necromancer's hands more on instinct on anything else. I was beginning to sense a trend here, spell-wise.

I was pretty sure I didn't want to get hit with a beam of any color.

Karl, Randolf, and Thomas were circling the wagons as the undead, no longer held at bay, closed in. Matt and Ethan had our rear, where the undead were already beginning to close in... it looked like their primary target was our cleric.

The good news was the necromancer had already thrown one fireball. if he could manage another we were sitting ducks, but while it was a spell most casters learned, it wasn't one most casters could spam.

The air elemental was a total surprise, apparently. It tore into him with reckless abandon, flinging him a good twenty feet, where I could swear I heard something snap.

I had to give him this much; he was a tough old bastard. He got up, screaming curses and obscenities, and started another chant.

It was then that the door burst open, and people started filing out of the cabin at a run. Living people, mostly kids. Running amongst the aggressive zombies and crows without a care - or as if something worse was chasing them.

"Have fun, shit stains! Chase me and they'll all die!" He then stepped through his conjured doorway, disappearing.

I knew the spell, and it had a low range; I scanned quickly and spotted the tell-tale flash. He had gone North; a direction was good enough for now. The zombies would follow their last command, and the last command was probably to kill everything living.

I sent a new command to the elemental, who was halfway into chasing the necromancer down. I was tempted to let that command ride, but I needed the firepower here.

I focused, relieved to see Pastor Collins sit up, and dropped a wall of fire around us. I left an opening in it, a doorway or threshold almost eight feet wide; wide enough not to burn, and easy enough to defend.

"Anyone alive who can hear my voice, please, come to the wall of fire! It has an opening, and you'll be safe inside!"

I said there was an entrance, but a few panicked people chose to disregard that part, instead focusing on safety. Pastor Collins healed them as we watched the zombies crackle and pop. Occasionally one would get too close to our 'door' and Ethan would shove it back, while the taller of our armored party focused on the remaining crows trying to hassle us. Between my air elemental and Thomas's arrows, we gave more than the illusion of safety.

Most of the survivors were in some kind of shock, with a thousand yard stare into the flames... or at a zombie or corpse that they no doubt recognized. A few were staring at the backs of our warriors, their expressions unreadable. A few of the kids were staring at me with open fascination.

The circle began to fill up uncomfortably as people trickled in. All in all, there were maybe two dozen villagers, and of those a dozen were kids. It was standing room only for awhile until the spell dropped... and the fires lost some intensity, but kept going. Perfect.

"Time to move, so I can do something about the fire."

Now that the spell wasn't maintained and the fire wasn't roaring, it was easy to hear the sobbing coming from those around us. We shuffled out, and I dumped my prepared water spell on the flames while I focused my elemental on starving the flames the necromancer had made.

I looked over to Pastor Collins. "You okay?"

He was gasping, but he nodded. "Yeah, whatever that thing used, it isn't permanent."

I knew what he'd used. a bolt of pure entropy designed to sap the life from a target. And he was lucky, yes it wasn't permanent; otherwise, he could have been debilitated for life. I had no idea what the green beam was, and had no desire to find out. I needed to read more, though; there was so much I didn't know.

A woman, her face caked in filth and covered in lines, grabbed me. "You must find the others! This isn't all of us, and my Adam is still out there!"

Phil and Thomas were already moving; I couldn't hold the air elemental anymore, but I could see people fleeing in a panic too.

"We're working on it, Ma'am." I shook myself loose and picked a direction the others hadn't. Matt backed me up. I was thankful for that since I was running low on power and there were still a few of the more confused sort of zombies running around.

"Wait!" Karl shouted, and we all stopped, looking back.

"Let's do this right. No splitting up. People, if you can, call your own, tell them it's safe now, or safer, where you are; it's unlikely they will believe us. If you're going off to track people down, buddy up, and buddy up with us; we can help protect you. If you get into trouble shout, and we'll move to assist you. Got it?"

A surprising number of heads nodded, the villagers seeming to find backbone they were missing before.

Karl clapped, the sound like the crack of a gunshot in the silence. "Alright, let's move; we've got lives to save."

It was the sniffling that gave it away; not the big racking sobs, but the quiet crying of someone who desperately wanted to keep it quiet. With my ears, it wasn't hard to pinpoint the source, which was up and to the left. I pointed to the tree; I could just make out a little hand clinging to the bark.

I stopped and waited as Mrs. Castillo, who squared her shoulders and adjusted her ratty shawl and stepped forward. "I think I recognize that voice. Ida honey, is that you?"

Mrs. Castillo worked in social services back before the event and was someone all the kids recognized. She all but demanded to come with me when she heard I was going South-East. That was where most of the kids had run... and likely the direction where the necromancer had run.

The aforementioned Ida shifted a little, revealing a girl coated in dirt and a ragged dress. She was clinging to the tree like a Koala, and the one foot I could see was covered in mud and more than a little blood.

Smart of her, to climb the tree. With the crows gone, the only undead who could get to her that we'd seen were the squirrels, and they seemed to have no standing orders the way the others had; I had led our small party right by two, and all they had done was watch as we went by.

I still nuked them of course; at the very least they were eyes and ears we did not need reporting in.

"Mrs. Castie is that you?" The girl who was probably Ida asked, almost as if she couldn't believe it.

"Yes honey, it's me. Come down, it's safe now."

The girl wasted little time, sliding down so quickly I winced; she had to be leaving skin up there.

I turned away from the scene, giving them privacy while I scanned our surroundings; some of the zombies had proven... sneaky, after a fashion. One of the villagers had gotten bit by a skeleton missing its legs, inching its way through the dead undergrowth on arms alone and all but impossible to spot. He was being treated by Pastor Collins and was expected to make a full recovery, but it stressed the need for vigilance.

A shout from Karl rose above the other shouts with an ease that I envied. "Lady Muse! Check in!"

"Still here and all is well!" I fired back. I was tempted to enhance my reply with magic, but I didn't have any to spare.

If the necromancer were to circle around, I'd need everything I had left. It was unlikely, but I had to concede the option.

"Heading farther East!" I shouted again, and took a drink of water from my skin, watching Ida watch me. I held it out with a small piece of trail bread and almost lost a hand.

Watching her guzzle started another slow burn of anger in me. That and a little concern; there was no way we had water for everyone or even all the kids. But I wasn't sure the water around here was safe to drink.

"Not so fast, you'll choke."

Ida nodded and continued guzzling. Mrs. Castillo cut that short when she grabbed the little tyke by the hand. "Alright, come on. Let's go find the others; did you see which way they went, Ida?"

Ida took a moment before replying. "I saw where Bobby went."

"Alright, which way did Bobby go?" Mrs. Castillo asked, much more patiently than me.

Ida pointed a direction out that was a little more North than I was originally willing to go. Mrs. Castillo hoisted her up, mindful of her feet. "Alright then, let's go. Help me call to him so he knows it's us, okay?"

Ida nodded. I followed behind but Matt moved up, taking the lead as quietly and quickly as he could with his sword exchanged for a small smith's hammer.

Mrs. Castillo was pretty strong; she carried Ida without complaint, bellowing louder than I was capable all the while, calling Bobby's name. Ida yelled for all she was worth, and when the first skeleton (a deer) responded to our approach she flinched.

Matt made short work of it, however; without any mass, a skeleton ramming into a mailed man wasn't going to get very far; and the hammer put the abomination down.

Neither Mrs. Castillo or I paused; she was confident in us now (or didn't want to show fear in front of the kids) and had to make sure nothing was lurking to take advantage.

There wasn't, and a hundred yards down in a hollow stump a face peeked out. "Is it gone?"

"Yes, it's gone. You can come out now, it's safe. Well, safer." I couldn't lie to the kid, after all.

Mrs. Castillo shot me a look as she adopted her soothing tone again. "What the nice lady means to say is, it's perfectly safe to come out for now Bobby. Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

Of course he was; none of the villagers had much food or water the last three days. At least he was more careful to avoid spilling than Ida had been. His feet were in better shape too.

We were now at the edge of ready support; if we went any further, we would be out of sight and much more vulnerable. "Any other children go this way, Bobby?"

Bobby looked at me with wide eyes; I was pretty sure I hadn't grown a second head or something, but he was making me second guess. Were they all going to be this mistrustful? If so my headache was only beginning.

Mrs. Castillo snapped him out of it. "Bobby! Did anyone go this way?"

"Only Mr. Peterson! That's the only one I saw, I swear! Ida took the only good tree and I had to run longer, so I found the stump and crawled in, and that deer thing tried to get me!"

Heh; that was some voice of authority there. I'd have to take lessons or something.

"Alright, which way did Mr. Peterson go?"

"Straight last I saw. Right past the stump."

"Fine, let's go find Mr. Peterson." Mrs. Castillo sounded angry. Volcanic, actually. Obviously, Mrs. Castillo would have words with Mr. Peterson when they met.

Unless Mr. Peterson couldn't talk anymore. Then Matt would speak to him.

Mr. Peterson wasn't actually that far; barely few football fields away. He was almost grossly overweight and leaning against a tree, panting. There was nothing threatening near him, which seemed odd to me. Why hadn't the deer followed him?

"Mr. Peterson."

"Mrs... Castillo." Mr, Peterson panted back.

"Is there any reason you left a child alone against a nightmare and ran away?"

Mr. Peterson and I both winced. Well, at least now I know why she was mad. "Mrs. Castillo - no. We don't have time for that. Save it for later."

Mrs. Castillo pursed her lips and frowned. "Fine. But there will come a time, Dan Peterson."

The now fully named Dan Peterson stepped warily over to us. He still had his shoes and all his clothes, which was different from most of the villagers; for some reason, most of them were half naked or in rags.

"Is there anyone else past you? Did you see anyone else coming this way?"

"...No."

Why was the man still panting, over an hour since the fight? If he had sprinted, how was this as far as he'd gotten?

Those questions weren't really important... but I didn't trust this guy to notice who else was around when he was running.

"Alright. Mrs. Castillo, Mr. Peterson... could you escort the kids back to the main group? They need medical attention."

We didn't have a stable camp; we were on the move. I'd argued against it, but after an hour of waiting, we were leaving the scene of carnage behind, a mass pyre in our wake.

I thought it unlikely the dead could be defiled again, but the villagers had been insistent. My sole contribution was to burn the cottage down for good measure, with all that was inside; five minutes of simply looking in the place had convinced me it was the better option. Even the bookcases - some knowledge was best buried. Or burned, in this case. And we had already announced where we were to everything around due to the previous fires. The fire shouldn't spread, but I was keeping an eye on it just in case. Truthfully after a look inside the cottage, I was sure the entire forest was a lost cause anyway; the taint, the corruption, was quick and total.

I'd still put it out if the fire got out of control, but fire might be the only thing that could purify this place.

Pastor Collins rushed over to Ida the moment he caught sight of her. "And who is this little cutie, hm?"

Way to sound pedo-bear there, Pastor Collins. Your bedside manner needed some work.

It didn't work for Ida, either; she just buried her face in Mrs. Castillo's sizable assets and dug in.

She looked up as the healing magic took hold though, and watched s her feet knitted themselves back together.

Mr. Busby, a shoe salesman turned cobbler, was ready with a pair of sandals for each child woven from the local dead grass. They were a little large and probably wouldn't hold together for very long, but they would protect their feet while they lasted.

All the children who could or could be healed would have to walk; we couldn't spare enough adults to carry them. We couldn't even spare the energy to heal all the adults, not that most of them wanted healing while there were children in need.

Ida tested them out while Bobby slipped his own on; his feet were made of sterner stuff.

Mr. Busby continued weaving; something he could do while walking apparently. Mrs. Donelson walked up and grabbed his large bundle of usable grasses.

The others were also grabbing bundles or makeshift weapons. Mostly rotten branches or corroded metal bars. Who knew where they managed to find those. A few had some butcher knives. We had shared of course; I had kept mine except for a few daggers that really wouldn't do anything against what we were fighting, but then again my sword and main dagger wouldn't really either; both were too light to bash bones and I needed something to fall back on since my available magic was low.

We formed up with Randolf and Karl in the lead with Pastor Collins behind them, the villagers in behind them, Phil on the right and Thom on the left, and Ethan, Matt, and I bringing up the rear. The armed villagers, male and female both, were mostly placing themselves on the sides and I appreciated the trust. Or what I perceived as trust. I chose to take it as trust anyway.

The group was bigger by at least twenty people than when I left, and most of those were kids, which made me feel instantly better about the danger we were all in.

As if the entire group didn't make noise enough (the giants had been quieter) every few steps some people appointed to the purpose would bellow the all clear and position check for the benefit of those still missing.

"How far North did you go?" I asked Ethan, more for something to talk about than anything else.

Ethan had been one of a few to go straight North, past the cottage in the search for survivors. Since our destination was the opposite direction, there was only so far people could go in that direction; we were all supposed to stay in sight of each other, but I'd not been able to see Ethan's group - which had been Ethan, Thomas, and Phil. All ghosts in their own right - or short.

"About a mile," Ethan admitted readily.

That put the group a good ten minutes or more out of range of help if something went wrong.

"I know that look. I had the scouts with me, and I can take care of myself. No need to worry."

Fine. "Did you find anyone?"

"Four lost souls, fumbling around in the woods. No children though."

"How did you fool Karl?"

"Thomas did something with his voice; pitched it so it would carry, even through the woods."

That was handy. I could probably do the same with my illusions, come to think of it. But not here; it was all kinds of bad idea to fool the living people like that here, much as I'd like to continue the search. If I had the juice I'd use an air elemental to find the missing; it would scare them half to death (and only that far, hopefully) to be sure... but they wouldn't be alone and in danger. Still in danger of course, but not facing it alone.

The woods were empty. Suspiciously so, now that we knew what they were full of. There were even fewer signs of life going in, now that the birds were gone. Of course, I was happy about that. At first, some few people answered the shouts and joined the trek, but other than looking them over to make sure they were dead and faking it, I stayed aloof. The trickle stopped at six (one man, three women, and two children) after the first hour's walk.

Hours later and miles away from the carnage people were beginning to murmur to each other; to slow down. To relax.

I wanted to yell at them, to tell them to focus up, that things may not be over yet, but I didn't really have the heart to. People who had already been pushed past normal endurance just didn't have anything left; only the adrenaline and healing had been keeping them going this long. Karl was in front, pushing things.

"Karl," Just a hint of magic carried my voice to him; I wasn't about to yell over everyone else yelling.

Karl turned and saw what I was seeing. "Right. alright everyone, take five; we camp here."

Randolf all but threw his gear down and tore his helmet off to reveal his reddened face, but didn't say a word. the others were a little more sympathetic; well openly so at any rate, regardless of their true feelings.

I went up to Karl. "How are we set for food?"

"We're out after this," Karl replied. "and there's precious little to go around as is. Not to mention nothing to hunt in this place. The necromancer didn't bother feeding any of them. At least he didn't take the food and water they managed to grab before being rounded up."

"And am I right in assuming water is the same?"

"Yes; we're screwed on water."

"Well, I can help on water, at least. But I'd like to borrow the more able of the villagers if possible. Give them something constructive to do."

"Why?"

I knew he'd looked, but how had he not seen? "Look at them a moment."

Karl cast his gaze back over the crowd again, and I knew this time he took in the dejection. "Point taken. As long as it's actually useful."

"It will be - just trust me a little here."

I went over to Mrs. Castillo; she would get things done with the right suggestion; she was one of few with her head up.

"Mrs. Castillo, can I ask you for a favor?"

"What do you need, Lady Muse?"

I pitched my voice to be just loud enough. "I'd like you and some able hands to help me with a project; it would certainly make me sleep easier tonight, and probably will help you all too."

"Oh, and what's that?" Perfect; not only was Mrs. Castillo intrigued, but many other heads were raised.

"I want to collect brush and build a deadfall around camp. The dead, well they aren't agile. A small sort of wall of branches and the like will not only give us warning in the night, but it may well trip them up too. And if we really need to, we can fire it."

"That...doesn't sound like a bad idea. But what if something else fires it?"

A good point. "I guess we build it far enough away that we won't get burned?"

"That sounds like a lot of work." Mrs. Castillo replied. There were a few nods around us.

"I plan on trying to do it myself, but that's why I'm asking for help."

"I'll help," Mrs. Castillo replied immediately and levered herself up. "But why not stakes or something similar?"

"The wood isn't good for it," I took a branch in hand and snapped it to demonstrate, the sound brittle and loud.

"But it makes a great alarm; I see. We can also spread a few branches like that past the deadfall; that would make stealth much harder."

"A good idea." I really should have thought of it.

Mrs. Castillo and I started gathering sticks and branches; the kids started helping immediately, throwing twigs at each other. Soon enough most of the villagers had joined in, and a sizable wall of sorts began taking shape. One of the adults, a larger man, even shouldered a small tree and knocked it over, then had to get some help dragging it back. When the singing started, I did my best to join in.

I didn't know the words, of course, it was some working song about farming.

We finished as the sun started to set, and I started on my next task. "Karl."

"Lady Muse." His tone was light and he seemed set to banter, but I could hear the tension underneath.

"I can't do anything about the food issue, but if you'll see that all the water skins and containers that could be used for that purpose are gathered together, I can fix that one."

"Pastor Collins has been communing... and he says he can fix the food and water issue. I'd rather you worked on a fire that won't rage out of control the moment we set it."

"Alright." A little disappointing, but he could do it I guessed."How big a fire?"

"A bonfire, if you can manage."

"Consider it done."

There was no rock to pile up, so I simply used some magic to pull bedrock up from under the dirt; sure it was temporary (The only reason I'd do it; I didn't really like the idea of long-term landscaping) but it would work well enough. Some of the bigger logs pulled in were devoted to the purpose of fuel for it, which I wasn't thrilled about but I saw the need for.

The chill of dusk was more than a lowering of the temperature after all. We needed the light. The humans most of all; they did not have the low light vision Ethan or I did.

A simple flint and steel were all the magic I needed; I watched the fire grow from something small into something as tall as I was. The villagers shuffled closer, hungry hands reaching for the flames. I found myself on the outer circle with Ethan, facing away from the flames, preserving our eyesight.

I tapped him, pointed to myself, and then to the other side. He nodded and stood a bit more straight, facing outward and scanning his side.

When I got to my side, I followed suit.

The sound of Pastor Collins calling to his goddess hit my ears over the general noise. I turned a bit just in time to see a full bakery of bread shimmer into existence on a spread cloth. Several crude clay pitchers of what appeared to be fresh water joined them a moment later.

I had to admit that was better than I could have managed. Not only was it food, but it was more water than I could manage quickly.

The kids were pressed into service to deliver the bread, a loaf per person. Ida brought mine over, her own hanging out of her mouth and her hands full. She was still chewing like a champ.

"Thank you, Ida."

"Mrghgh!" she replied and ran off to the next person, one of her own who was fine tuning the branch wall on this side; making it more treacherous.

One bite and I had to control myself to avoid spitting it out; the bread was bland and had a slightly bitter tang. Pastor Collins could make more food clearly, but he couldn't make it taste decently. Of course, that wasn't stopping the villagers from all but inhaling their portion down; it was a good thing Pastor Collins hadn't made more, they were risking making themselves sick as it was.

The water made the rounds too, and it was much better; sweet and pure, almost tasting as if it had been filtered. I made sure to fill up my canteen while Ida tapped her foot with her hands on her hips.

"Thank you again, Ida."

I could understand her this time. "You're welcome!"

Pastor Collins collapsed on a log beside me with a grunt; he looked tired - which meant he probably shouldn't be carrying around logs as chairs.

"The conjuring take that much out of you?" I had to ask; I thought his goddess took on the cost.

"Being able to work miracles, to ask and have your God or Goddess answer, let alone provide at all, takes some getting used to. But in this case, yes. Minerva offers some of her energy and the knowledge, but I provide the lion's share."

That made some sense. "Well then take a load off."

"I plan on it... but first I wanted to ask; why aren't you closer to the fire?"

"You're ex-military; you really need to ask that?"

"You can actually see then?"

I nodded. "Ethan and I both, though I think my vision is better than his. We're keeping watch as best we can. Though soon, we will probably both need sleep. Heck, we all will; we hiked and fought and searched and hiked some more. I do not envy the people drawing the short straw."

"Maybe it won't be necessary."

I turned as much as I could without ruining my night vision to stare in Pastor Collin's face directly.

He gave his best wry grin in response. "Yeah, I don't believe it either. The evil hasn't left these woods."

I couldn't argue with that and resumed my scan. "I'm going to bed down more or less here. No tent, just shake my bedroll out and siesta."

Far away from the fire, where I might be cold, but with a bedroll, I'd be less cold than the villagers would be here. I'd also be in a better position to do things without the worry of friendly fire.

"Sounds like a plan; I'll join you."

I tapped him on the leg. "I'd appreciate the company, but no. Please take the other side, near Ethan if you can swing it."

Having both spell casters near each other while waiting for an attack was the height of folly; not only could the attack come to the side of us that had no caster support, but if the necromancer was still out there, one dropped spell would take both Collins and I out.

Honestly, it had me worried. Pastor Collins was ex-military; where had his military mindset gone? Was he continuing to change? Were we all? I reached for my journal and wrote everything down as best I could remember, sparing nothing.

I finished and looked up to find Ida and Billy both silently watching me. Like any child, they had questions. The good news was their first question put my fears to rest before they could fully wake.

"Can you really write in this darkness?"

Full night had draped it's blanket across the sky for some time, yet with the firelight behind me, this much was easy.

"Yes, Could you read any of it?"

Billy shook his head, but Ida felt the need to explain. "No, but it's not that I can't read or anything. It was just too dark."

"Of course," I told her. I'd been sensitive about my reading skill once upon a time too when Matt and I were in elementary.

Billy stepped up after seeing that Ida hadn't gotten her head bitten off. "So what were you writing? Was it a spell? Are you really an elf?"

Oh right, these people had been missing for some time. They probably didn't even know the fate of their homes, come to think of it. Well, I wasn't going to be the one to tell them.

"It was a recollection of the day's events and my own memories, not a spell. And yes I do seem to be an elf. At least one version of an elf. I take it you didn't have any elves in your village after the event?"

"No," Billy answered, his eyes gleaming reflected firelight. "We were just us. And then that guy... he...."

"No need to get into that," I stopped him as gently as I could. "I know what happened, or well enough."

Billy sniffled a little but went silent. Of course, that was more because the other kids were now approaching. The small mass exodus garnered the attention of more than a few adults, but none of them moved to save me.

"Are you really a mage?" One asked; she was a blonde girl, bigger and older than Ida.

"I am."

See Sarah, I told you! She was the one who did the magic!" A dark haired boy said, limping up.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Yes Giles, you did. You were right, she wasn't a warrior."

Wait, what was going on here? "You thought I was a warrior?"

"Well, you do have a fancy sword," Sarah answered. She had a point.

"But no armor." Another boy countered, glaring.

A boy so small he made Ida look big gave his opinion: "You're pretty."

"Um, thanks," Yes, this was rapidly descending into the awkward. "Alright kids, I know you all have questions and I don't mean to ignore you, but I think it's time to get some sleep."

"We don't want to sleep!" Giles complained.

"Yeah, can't you do some magic for us?" My smallest fan added.

"I didn't mean you all. I meant me; I've had a long day and I'm tired. I'll answer any question you have for me... in the morning."

I had to work to pull my bedroll out of my pack without giving away the nature of the bag; I had to wait until the kids were suitably distracted or one of them would sneak around and try it out and lose an arm or something.

Fortunately Mrs. Castillo provided a ready distraction. "Alright kids, you heard Lady Muse. Maybe you could ask Karl or Randolf about their exploits as warriors? I'm sure they have many good stories."

I laid my bedroll out. "At least one of them involves a dinosaur."

The exclamations were almost deafening. "A dinosaur!?!"

The little mass exodus was gone much faster than it arrived, all clamoring noisy for 'the dinosaur story'. I smirked as Karl got all but buried.

Ida had stayed, however. She ducked her head before asking: "Can I sleep with you?"

No idea why she wanted to do that. "That's not a good idea, Ida. If we get attacked out here, I'm a priority target, so being near me is dangerous. Besides, we don't have enough blankets for everyone, so you're going to need to stay close to the fire."

Ida had a pretty adorable pout, but she agreed readily enough. "Alright."

She also moved off closer to the fire... but plunked herself down as close to me as she felt she could get away with; right in a line between me and the fire. She was out of earshot, however.

Mrs. Castillo took advantage. "Is what you said just now true?"

"About me being a priority target? Yes, it is; the necromancer saw my face, and saw me cast magic to counter his."

"Then I owe you an apology. I thought you were keeping apart because we annoyed you."

I shrugged. "You don't owe me anything, but for the record right now I'm keeping watch. Which I won't be doing much longer; I need sleep badly."

I could admit a small bit of envy for the villagers; I didn't think I was weak or anything, but the stamina they had shown so far was astonishing. I could probably stay up longer myself, but I needed a recharge in the worst way.

"I understand," Mrs. Castillo said, and maybe she did. "I'll leave you to your rest then. Don't worry about a watch, your own party is quite skilled and on the job."

"I'm not really worried," I yawned out, laying down. "I just have better eyes than those guys."

I closed my better eyes as Mrs. Castillo got up to leave.

I opened them to an attack, signaled by the crunching of branches all around our camp. That was the first warning, but it was a good one. The second was Phil's shout of: "Up and at 'em!"

The fire was banked and I could see no sentries, only bodies in ragged clothes camped out on the uneven ground around the fire, just beginning to stir. I could not make out my companions at all, but for once I woke clear headed.

I rolled as the cracking got uncomfortably close, only to watch as what could only be the remains of a deer plow headfirst into the dirt next to my bedroll amidst the snapping of bones. My sword stroke took it's head off cleanly enough, and I turned toward the next victim, only to find there wasn't one.

The fire shrank some more as torches appeared. I had to squint at first, but those torches told the tale; small as the deadfall was, it was doing the job we built it for. All the dead, human and animal alike, were busy being trapped in the deadfall. They were still working towards us, but it was going to be easy to put them down permanently.

Well, all but the squirrels.

They weren't any more agile than their larger counterparts, but they were small and quick, able to dart in between the branches making up our obstacle and charge us almost completely without impediment - and there were hundreds of them. Possibly even thousands. Ida was the only person close enough to grab, (mainly because she had come closer to me when the attack started, rather than running away like a smart kid) so I did and held her close as the swarm closed in.

A quick spell and my control of air around me was focused and enhanced; I could now produce concentrated gusts of wind. Since the squirrels didn't weigh much, the small cyclone I placed around me swept the ones charging at me away before any of them could reach. Or you know, spit bugs on me or something.

Unfortunately, I couldn't do it for the entire camp. Pastor Collins was up and had his prayer or whatever it was already going, with the kids crowded around him. The rest of my companions and the villagers doing their best to respond were in trouble, however; my party was mostly unarmored for sleep, and the villagers didn't own any.

Should I fire the deadfall?

No, the squirrels were too fast, and there were still deer around; if even one managed to get through while burning they would stand a real chance of firing us in return. I hadn't really accounted for squirrels in numbers like this; how had the necromancer even managed this? Had he depopulated the entire forest by himself, and if so how? That would have taken far too long alone.

I didn't have enough juice to summon an elemental, even a weak one, and that wasn't what we needed here in any case. I couldn't pull another shield like I had this morning for the same reason.

Lightning was overkill, but it was my best bet; I knew how to fork it now, and I split it as much as possible.

It still exploded the crap out of all the squirrels hit, which was probably a good five dozen of them. Other than some wild hair, none of the villagers had been affected, and more to the point it had cleared them of vermin.

So I followed up with a mini-blizzard.

The cloud formed was no more than twenty feet across, and the range was barely enough to cover my side of camp, but the hail and sleet dropped destroyed anything that came in range utterly. Which was a good thing considering I was about out of energy again. I let Ida slide down as the wind dissipated; she had been clinging so tight my arm was numb. I joined her on the ground.

"Oof, you're heavy kiddo."

Ida didn't even acknowledge me; she was too busy staring at the snowstorm. I kept in range to grab her if she made a break for it - it wouldn't spare her any more than it would the squirrels who were still funneling into it with complete abandon.

Matt slammed down beside me. "You okay?"

"I was until you scared the shit out of me."

He batted a squirrel that had come from another direction to us into my storm. "Not like you to lay down on the job."

I pointed to the storm. "I'm tired. Let me catch my breath and I'll join you."

Matt nodded and turned to face a side. I levered up and took the other - just in time for the attack to be stymied completely as every visible squirrel in the camp just dropped and fell apart. I didn't see it, but I felt the surge of warmth and light flow that ended them flow through me and continue on to hit most of the larger undead.

Those left from that attack or purge or whatever it was, started shambling off in retreat as fast as possible. I didn't have the energy for a fireball, and if they scattered they could spread the fire and kill us, so even mundane fire probably wasn't the best idea... But that didn't stop mundane missiles from taking out as many as we can target. It won't stop little conjured bullets of air either from being effective either.

Thomas fired the first shot, but the rest of us weren't far behind. Even the villagers got in on the action, testing their throwing arms.

But none of us went into the woods to chase.

"Come on," Karl said. "Let's move."

Much as I wanted to, much as all of us did, no one objected.