“Who dares to desecrate the altar?!” He asked, as his pale blue eyes bored into them.

The bewildered foursome looked at one another.

“Better let me handle this one,” Davy said. Mike nodded approval and stood back to watch. Why shouldn’t he be the one to straighten it out? Being from the area, he surely stood a better chance of smoothing things over than any of the rest of them.

“Sorry about that. We were just having a little fun,” He said, smiling and trying to lay on the charm.

Peter watched the discussion and knew right away this was very bad. The old guy was only looking angrier the harder Davy tried to win him over. At first Peter had thought (or hoped) that the crowd was a group of re-enactors or something but he could feel the uneasiness and anger coming off them in waves. Not only that, but how did the whole scene change? The stones being upright was only part of it. Even the air felt different now. The silence was oppressive. He listened as hard as he could, blocking out the quiet rustling and murmuring of the crowd and Davy’s attempt at pulling their fat out of the fire. There was nothing. No planes, no cars on the highway, no far off train whistles, only the wind, a very faint rumble of thunder, and the snorts and whinnies of horses. He looked around and spotted a pair of them hitched to a crude looking cart of some kind. That was not there earlier. He was certain.

Mike carefully looked around them trying not to be obvious as he sized up the crowd and gauged their chances. He didn’t know where they’d go, but it was starting to look like they would have to do something. The crowd had gradually spread out and surrounded them with ease, but most of them didn’t look so tough. One or two of them might be a problem but the odds looked good and seemed even better to him as he realized several of the robed figures were women. He had never hit a woman before in his life, but if that’s what he had to do to get out of this.... Mike thought if they all struck at once, maybe they could break through and get away with a minimum of violence. He just hoped Peter wouldn’t choke in the clutch. Pacifism was fine when the situation allowed for it but he had the feeling that this was not going to be one of them. And for that matter, he wasn’t really sure what Micky would do when his back was against the wall. He did not like violence either. Mike glanced over in his direction to see how he was reacting.

Micky was nervously shifting his weight back and forth as though he needed to take the whiz of all time. The more things he noticed, the more scared he became. He was remembering a lot of details from the book he had been reading. If he was correct, then these were not Druids but in fact a different kind of Pagan. There was nothing on their identical robes to really identify them as one group or another. Involuntarily, Micky began to recall the book’s lurid parts about slavery and torture and human sacrifice that had been described in great detail. At the time they made him squirm, but it was with the interested revulsion that came from knowing you were unquestionably safe from these things. Oh, they had to get away. He felt his heart begin to race and he wanted to just make a break for it. He was on the verge of panic when a calming hand settled gently on the small of his back. Micky turned to see Mike looking at him as though he could read his mind and then he nodded and silently mouthed two words at him... “Not yet.”

Davy’s attempt at smooth talking their way out was abruptly ended when the obvious leader of the group reached out and roughly shoved him backward.

“Lies! You are spies from the outlands! Who sent you?”

“We aren’t spies and no one sent us...actually we don’t really know what happened. This is all just a big misunderstanding.” Davy said, spreading his arms in a non-threatening gesture.

“Be you spies or not, you must pay for your desecration of the high altar.”

The surrounding crowd began to chant something and slowly closed in.

“We’ll rush ‘em on 3,” Mike said just loud enough for his friends to hear. They all tensed and prepared to spring.

“One...”

“Two...”

“Wait!” Everything stopped as a younger man cried out and shoved his way through the crowd to get beside the leader of the mob.

“What is it?” said the elder.

“What if they speak the truth, Mathias?

“Do not tell me that you are taken in by their lies, Eric,”

“Could they not be sent from the Sun God himself?” This question caused a stir within the crowd as they pondered this new possibility while the younger man continued. “If not the Sun God then Teranis?” He said, pointing to the west where the sky was dark and threatening rain.

“What the fuck are they going on about?” Mike said, the countdown temporarily forgotten.

Davy shrugged and Peter shook his head while keeping a wary eye on their captors before asking, “Mick, did that book mention any of this?”

Micky squeezed his eyes tightly closed as he tried to remember. It sounded familiar. Then he had it. “Teranis was the name of the Thunder God that some Druids and other Pagans believed in. He decided to leave out the information that the best way to make Teranis happy was to offer up a little human sacrifice.

“Perhaps this is a matter for Lord Dargon to decide.” The older man only stared at Eric silently as he continued. “These foreigners could be a gift from the Sun God to us so that we may use them to please Teranis and make the war go well with us.”

The elder man considered the idea, stroking his long, ratty beard as he did so. He looked at the guys, who were still tensed and ready to go, and then smiled cruelly.

“There may be no war if things went well with Lord Dargon’s journey to the North. But I agree that their fate should be his decision. We will present them after his return. They must have a value of some kind.”

Screw this action, Mike thought. “On three, “he said, as his friends readied themselves.

“One....two...THREE!”

The four of them lashed out at those closest who were caught off guard. It wasn’t long before the mob had them down and lying at the end of several swords that had been hidden beneath the ceremonial robes. One by one their hands were bound and they were roughly pulled to their feet. No one spoke to them as they were shoved in the general direction of the cart. It was baffling to Davy that as hard as they fought, none of them were injured. Several of their captors were bleeding a little and nursing various wounds but himself and the other three were not so much as scratched. It must be because of the whole Sun God business. They were probably ok until their origins were decided. In the meantime, there were bound to be chances to escape.

The ride seemed to take forever. It was only a couple of miles, but with heavy cloth bags over their heads hiding the view, it felt endless. The cart had a bottom made of boards and they could feel every bump and hole in the dirt path as the solid wheels bounced along. Each of them kept silent. They knew they were being guarded and there was no reason to give any information away. Not that they had much.

Gradually the road became smoother and the horses were able to pick up the pace. More noises began to join the hoof beats and creaks of the cart. There were animal sounds and the voices of other people and the general noise of a populace busy with its day-to-day business. At last things came to a stop. Their captors took care to get them back on solid ground without falling.

After being hustled through a doorway, the bags were removed. Peter wished he could have kept his on. Better to stay in the dark than look at this. Small torches cast a weak, yellow light in the short hallway. From what he could see, the hall lead to a staircase that went down. Nothing good was ever in the basement. He squirmed slightly and glanced at his friends to see if they were as scared as he was. Davy was maintaining a stony expression but the little crease at his brow told anyone that knew him he was worried. Micky was taking in his surroundings and he looked every bit as scared as Peter felt. Mike appeared pissed off as usual, but the quick, jerky movements of his body gave away the fact that his every nerve was on edge.

"This way,” Said the largest of their six escorts. Just as Peter had feared, they were taken to the stairs and began their descent. The bottom opened out onto another hallway, this one longer and with thick wooden doors set into the walls.

The air was heavy and damp and smelled musty and old. Also fragrant was the guard who was waiting near an open door. Dressed in an outfit comprised of leather, animal pelts and rough fabric, he looked like he hadn’t bathed in months. He looked them over one by one, marveling at their outrageous clothing, before his beady eyes settled upon Davy.

“Well! What’s this you’ve brought?” He asked in a gravelly voice.

“Be careful with them, you oaf. Until their fates are decided, you will treat these prisoners decently!” Eric said. The jailer bowed slightly in acknowledgement of the command. One by one, the ropes were removed from their wrists as they entered the cell. The big door slammed closed behind them and they could all hear the metallic scrape of a key in the lock.

The room was small and very dim. The only light came from a tiny window at the top of one of the high walls. A pile of straw would serve as the bed and a wooden bucket was the restroom. For decoration there were heavy iron shackles mounted to one wall and a listless stream of water slowly seeping in between the stones of another. A fat, gray rat briefly provided entertainment, but it ran underneath the door when Mike disturbed its hiding place in the dank pile of straw. He futilely kicked at it and didn’t even come close. Just what the hell was all this? One minute they’re waiting for the sunrise and the next they might not see another. It made absolutely no sense and it was giving him a headache.

Micky was considering the shackles on the wall. A chill twisted down his spine as his fingers trailed across the heavy, rusted metal. Imagine being locked up in these day after day after day with a slow agonizing death as the only key to freedom. The fact that they were being treated relatively well so far gave him a little hope, but not much. Why did he have to insist on seeing the monoliths? If it weren’t for him they would be off in some little cafe having breakfast and planning the day. He gradually drifted over to the bedding, and after checking for more rats, sat down pulling his knees up to his chest.

Davy was looking over the door attempting to find a weakness and having no luck. It was thick, solid wood held together with pins and wide iron bands. There was a little window built into it, but it opened from the outside. It was unyielding. He turned and looked up at the window. It was far out of reach and too small anyway. They were definitely stuck.

The hours passed slowly. Eventually, all four of them were sitting against the wall waiting for who knew what. The light grew weaker as evening came on. Finally Davy spoke up and asked what they were all thinking: “Fellas, what are we going to do about this?”

Silence.

“They think their god might have sent us, can’t we use that somehow?” Peter asked.

“Yeah. What do you two know about all this?” Mike asked, as he gestured toward Davy and Micky.

The rest of the evening was spent trying to pull together some kind of strategy. The planning was interrupted only once when the guard changed. The little window built into the door opened and two bearded faces crowded together to take a gander at them. Mike curled his lip and flipped them the bird, but it was a wasted effort. The guards had no idea what it meant.

Ultimately the events of the day and the darkness got to them. Micky could tell by the combinations of regular, even breathing and light snores off to his right that Davy and Peter were both asleep. The cell was chilly, and he pulled a little of the filthy straw over his legs in an attempt to get warmer. His bed in far away Los Angeles was lumpy, but next to this it felt like the finest down. He berated himself for even allowing the stray complaint to cross his mind. They were facing a very uncertain future with just a weak scheme as their weapon, all because he got bored. Guilt hung over him like a fog and began to get the better of his self control. His eyes stung as tears began to collect and he sniffed quietly so as not to disturb anyone. He didn’t deserve any sympathy.

Mike was starting to doze off when he heard Micky’s sniffing and the rustle of fabric as he wiped at his eyes. Knowing him as he did, Mike was certain he knew what the problem was, and for the first time all day, he knew the exact action to take.

Micky jumped a little when the arm snaked around him and pulled him close. He resisted for a few seconds, but the need for contact and comfort won out. He put his arm around Mike and leaned on his shoulder, crying softly. Mike rested his cheek against Micky’s head and began to stroke the wildly curly hair with his free hand.

“Mick, it’s ok,” He whispered.

“No. No it’s not. If it weren’t for me, none of this would have happened.”

“That’s not true,”

“It is,”

“You didn’t know. There was no way any of us could have known,”

“Yeah, but...”

“But nothin,’ ”

Micky stayed quiet. The warmth and gentle touches were beginning to work. The tears stopped and his eyelids were feeling heavier by the minute. He yawned, unaware of the interior debate going on beside him.

The desire to lean down and kiss away the tears was just about overpowering. Mike wanted to throw away his iron will for once and go with his feelings. That was one of the many things he loved about Micky, the way his friend just went with his heart and flung common sense to the wind. But now was not the time.

He could tell by the limp quality of his body, that Micky had drifted off to sleep. Mike planted a soft kiss on top of the curly head resting against his shoulder and tried for some sleep of his own.

The morning passed slowly and despite all the discussion, none of them were really prepared for the moment when the cell door swung open and Mathias, flanked by several guards, took them to their meeting with Lord Dargon.