The Rise of the Raccoon Queen
Or The Big Grey Fluffy Butt Matter

A Story of Faerie
© 2019 by M. Mitchell Marmel

(Additional characters by E.O. Costello and W.D. Reimer.)
Thumbnail art by  technicolorpie



Part Fifteen.


Wolf Queen:

We got closer to the building, and we were faced with some disappointment. It was obviously abandoned; the missing roof and the broken windows were a dead giveaway, and the garden was heavily overgrown. From the top of the hill it sat on, we could see more ruins.

“Huh,” I sighed. “At least we’ll have four walls around us, Tali – Tali?” My feline companion had disappeared into the high grass. I heard a lot of frantic rustling around, and she finally popped up, grinning triumphantly with a rabbit in her paw. A fat one, too, with its neck expertly snapped.

“Lunch is served!” she said happily.

I smiled at her. “Right. I’ll set up housekeeping.”

It didn’t take very long to clear a space in the house’s hearth for a fire, and while we ate I looked around, and then cast detect-magick. A few spots lit up where household items had sat. “What’s up?” Tali asked, noticing that I was gazing thoughtfully at the middle distance.

“I don’t know psychometry – few Elves do – but I get the feeling that this place wasn’t abandoned in a hurry.”

“What do you mean?”

I waved a paw around while taking a bite of roast rabbit before I answered. I swallowed, too; Zenobia might have been an evil, Unseelie bitch, but she at least taught me not to talk with my mouth full. “When there’s an urgent need to leave, like some sort of calamity, furniture would be left, food in the larder, and so on.” She nodded, and I said, “But here, you look around and there’s nothing. They had time to pack up.”

“The houses could have been looted,” Tali pointed out.

“True, but looters would smash things if they couldn’t carry them off,” I countered, “and I don’t see the remains of any shattered furniture.” I glanced around at the room we were in. “These people had time to take everything with them.”

“So what caused them to leave?” my feline companion asked.

I shrugged. “After all this time, it’s anyone’s gue – “ Our ears perked at the sound of rocks falling a distance away.

We looked at each other, and bolted to our feet. Two cantrips sufficed to extinguish the fire and quench the ashes, and our ears swiveled constantly to pinpoint the source of the noise.

“Psst!” I saw Tali crouched at a window, and she beckoned me closer. I dropped to my paws and knees and crawled over to her. “Look out there.”

The house we were in was on top of a hill, with what was probably a village spread out to the northwest. We could see a cloud of dust, followed by the sound of falling stones as a chimney collapsed. I strained to hear, and caught the sound of metal striking rock. “Tools?” I whispered.

“Probably. We go see who’s there?”

I nodded. “We stay quiet; no telling if they’re Seelie or not.”

“Right.”

Fortunately, our makeshift clothes made great camouflage as we sneaked down the hill and among the derelict buildings to where we’d seen the dust. As we got closer, we could hear voices speaking Standard Elvish, but in an accent I recognized.

They were either from Eastness, or damned close to it.

We got close enough to catch a glimpse of them, and I almost gave myself away by laughing. The Master, as he never tires of telling anyone, is only five feet four without his antlers; despite the fact that they were horses, these fellows would be looking up at him, by necessity if not in admiration.

[Note appended to manuscript: “Give it a rest, wolfess, please?”]

There were about a dozen of them, industriously working stones loose from the mortar with iron pry bars while others loaded the loose stone into a cart drawn by two huge dray-ants. They were doing what a lot of workers do – talking while working, or pausing frequently to face someone and clarify a point.

Bunch of time-wasters, normally, but I might be prejudiced from watching Elfhamian bucks. These stallions were actually being pretty productive.

One had gone to another, smaller wagon, and took out a stoneware bottle from which he drank. Dragging the back of his paw across his mouth after putting the jug back, he suddenly spotted us.

“EALA!” he shouted, and ran toward us with his pry bar in his paws.

Tali dropped into a crouch, and I pooked, ending up behind him and smacking him in the back of his head. He stumbled and landed on his face while I grabbed his pry bar and whirled to face his friends, who had stopped loading stones and were getting ready to charge. “Hold!” I shouted, holding the iron bar at the ready.

The group of short horses pulled to a stop. “Well, here’s a sight, and no mistake,” one said.

“What the Netherhells!” exclaimed the one that I’d tripped up. He sounded a little hoarse (ha ha) and I glanced behind me just long enough to see that Tali had him by the neck. “You’re Elves!”

“What did you think?” I snarled.

“Here’s me thinking you two were walking haystacks,” the fellow said.

Tali snorted. “Haystacks can’t walk.”

One of the workers facing me, an older one with his mane in two long braids down his back, tut-tutted. “There’s many mysteries and wonders under the Brilliant Light, Missy.”

I stepped to one side, placing my impromptu lance at the rest. “’Brilliant Light?’ Are you bunch from Eastness?”

“That we are,” the old stallion said, “and Elves Don’t Lie.” He threw his chest and said proudly, “We’re the Loyal and Royal Guild of Stonecutters!”


***


Winterbough:

Matt and Michael came trotting up to me as I circled the stele, keeping a discreet distance. “What’s this, Corporal?” the bear asked.

“It’s a Gate.” As soon as I said the word, the mink had pulled a device from a pocket of his jumpsuit and started pointing it at the stone pillar. “I know where we are now,” and I paused to look around, “but things have changed over the years.”

Matt nodded. “So, where are we?”

“Eastness.” I glanced at Michael, who was staring at the device with a mystified expression. “Didn’t Tali tell you about it?” I asked Matt.

“No, but she’s still been out and about on missions. I’m retired.” The bear struck a pose. “I am now a Gentlefur of Leisure!”

“Your waistline certainly shows it,” the mink said, slipping the device into a pocket. “Can we use this to get into the city any faster?”

I shook my head. “There’s no Gates in the city. We’ll have to take your antless cart.” I squinted up at the sun overhead, then at the grass around my hooves. “Talk about sunlight being a disinfectant . . . “

“Eh?” Michael asked, cocking an ear in my direction.

“This place,” and I waved a paw, “in fact, the whole realm, was Afflicted. Rained constantly, this meadow we’re standing in was a reeking swamp, Elves were dying of sicknesses I’d never seen before – and all because the ruler was an Unseelie son of usurpers.”

The mink scratched his head. “We have legends like that, where I’m from. The land reflects the ruler.”

“It wasn’t a legend here, I’ll tell you. I killed King Alastair, and I recall that, when we were leaving, the sun had come out.” We started walking back to the cart. “It’s been years and years since then.”

When we got closer to the cart, I gave a start as a horrific sound erupted from the machine. It took me a second to realize that it was laughing at some story that Fred was regaling her with. “Coo, Fred!” it exclaimed. “You’re such a caution!”

“Don’t you ever stop talking?” I asked. “I thought I could hear you when I was in bird form.”

“Tch, don’t you worry about me, dearie,” the cart said in a condescending tone. “I’m like Balaam’s ass, I am – only do my talkin’ when there’s sommat t’say. Now, if it’s talkin’ you want, th’ Corps’ve got this one car, lean black thing with one red eye, an’ I swear it never stops talkin’!” Matt got behind the wheel, and the cart asked, “We goin’ fer another spin, dear?”

“Just on the ground, my dear,” and her horn tootled as Matt patted her dashboard. “Get in, you three. Corporal, you’re up front beside me.”

As I gingerly climbed in, Fred said, “How come he gets shotgun?”

“Native guide.” Matt glared at him.

“Right,” said Fred. He climbed in and we set off down the road toward Eastness.


***


Jhonni:

Expense account submitted by ‘Special Investigator’ Jhonni Dinar, to the Radiant Assurance Partners of Dawnside District, Eastness. The following is an accounting of expenditures during my investigation of The Big Grey Fluffy Butt Matter.

[Note appended to manuscript: “HEY!”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Yeah, he’s wrong for that.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Well – wait, what?”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “I agree. Your butt’s not that big. In fact, from the back furs can mistake you for a mel.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Why you ringtailed . . . “]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Shaddap, both of you.”]

Expense account item one: One star fifteen dusks – a few rounds of ale at Wesley’s Tap House, while I listened to a certain fur who Knew Things, and could ordinarily be expected to confide in me.

It’s hard for a giraffe to be unobtrusive; as tall as we are, we tend to – ha, ha – stand out in a crowd. Wesley knows me though, and the rat brews good ale, so he makes sure I sit way at the back in the shadows. Ever since a run-in with King Alastair’s goons before he fell, shadows and me have been really close friends.

The certain fur, a scruffy fox named Wulf (I guess his parents hated him), lowered his mug and licked his lips nervously. “Something’s moving, Jhonni,” he finally whispers. “Something bad.”

“Bad things always move in the shadows,” I said. Wulf didn’t tell me his name; I found out, and I won’t tell him how either. “Yours Truly, for instance.”

Wulf’s ears went back and he mumbled, “Not like this. I haven’t seen anything like this since . . . “

“’Since?’”

“Since before the Aerie fell,” he whispered.

That bad, eh? “These bad things got a name?”

I had to crouch in my seat and angle my ears to catch the single whispered word, “Cabal.” Didn’t mean a thing to me.

But I was looking forward to padding my expense account in an effort to find out.



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