Monday, September 3, 2012
"Cap'n! Cap'n, awaken! I bring word from the Queen!" The words are accompanied by shrill blasts on a tin horn that manages somehow to sound like a bagpipe in its death agonies.
Marc swears extensively in French, but sits up, every sense on alert. Rowan clutches the covers about her throat, watching Marc apprehensively.
"What is it, Bit?"
"Trouble in the Unformed Plane, Cap'n, an' what the hell else would it be?" The demifae is the country cousin to the demifae at the Tavern, dressed in homespun rather than silks. He has a shock of orange-yellow hair that sticks up any old how, and he bears a passing resemblance to Mortimer Snerd, or possibly Afred E. Neuman.
"All leaves are cancelled, starting now. You are ordered to report back to the Unformed Plane to prevent a goblin incursion at the western border. The buggers have aligned wi' Redcaps and hae been playin' merry hob wi' our boys. You are to go back and kick their bloody arses till their fuckin' noses bleed."
Marc's tone is dry. "I'm fairly certain that's not quite what the Queen said."
"Och, Cap'n, ye hae to learn to read between the lines."
"Go to the Tavern, get word to the Ravens. We march at first light."
"Aye, Cap'n." Bit snaps to attention, flicks a snappy salute and is gone so fast it takes a second for his image to fade.
Marc swears feelingly, and when he runs out of English he switches to French and swears some more. Rowan watches with a bemused smile.
"Well, Captain, you sure know how to show a girl a good time."
"This won't take long, ma chere. Goblins are tough, but they make the average tree look like a military genius. We just have to keep hitting them over the head until we open a big enough crack to let some sense in. Redcaps are basically brigands, not as smart as goblins. I'll be back in time for the wedding - with bells on." He smiles. "There's still a few hours till first light. I know a way we can while away the hours...."