Poetic Justice, Gnomish Gliders and the Sacred Egg...
You are so close to meeting Alucard...
Wind blows through the canyons, o’er yon desert deeps, when wild it rises atop sweltering heat
We delve through the night; by day do we sleep, with pygmies below, black shadows that leap
When the gliders bear us, we’ll pray for Godspeed and soar through the canyons from mountain’s high peak
Though lowly in station, still freedom we seek—lonely the tale of One, Two, and Three...
—Song of Ator Periconias
***
Cil paid him no more attention than a slight curling of her lip. Besides, she was busy looking at the hamsters above. "Such cute, hardworking things," she said, her green eyes bright.
Three and Two dragged One past them and toward the pantry. Brand rose and followed behind the struggling dwarfs at a leisurely pace, intending to observe their doings.
The pantry was a small, tall chamber with walls stacked high on two sides with food stores and cooking implements. Sacks of grain were on the floor, and the improvised shelving was stocked high with stores. On the left side of the chamber was a sort of cramped kitchen, with cooking benches, and an ingenious wood-fire oven molded into the wall with a clay chimney. Beside this, a natural rock basin supplied fresh water from a hidden spring. There was an ingenious drainage system around the basin so that, as it constantly overflowed, the water was caught in a moat and carried away into an exit hole at the corner of the room.
Two and Three laid One gently on his side near the basin, and began dabbing his head and face with a damp cloth. This went on for some time, and Brand, growing bored, wandered back into the main room.
Cil seemed at peace, relaxing on Brand's bed and gazing around the room like an inquisitive cat. Berengar had returned to his favorite cushion and was shuffling a rough pack of cards he had found amongst the crates.
"Care for a game, Brand?" he said, as Brand took a cushion opposite him.
"Sure, nothing to do until that scoundrel One is back among the living. He better have a good exit plan for us..."
"Will you play Sharks or Clavilet?"
"Sharks—Clavilet is an evening game," replied Brand suavely.
"Here, have a drink," Berengar offered, pouring Brand a goblet from a great skin of wine. He kept the skin for himself, drinking directly from it, and began to deal out cards.
A couple of hours passed by, with Two and Three coming and going—checking on their brother, joining in on a hand or two, and then wandering off again to tinker on some affair or another. Brand grew impatient. "Berengar, let us go and check on One."
"Aye, why not," replied Berengar, happy to get away from another losing hand. Three nodded too and rose with them. The group made their way into the pantry together, and found Two pressing a damp cloth on One's forehead.
"I see you're still trying that gimmick," teased Berengar.
Two scowled up at him, muttering under his breath.
"Well," continued Berengar, now standing with arms akimbo, "at least his eyes have closed. A more natural slumber, to be sure."
"Aye, that was quite uncanny, with eyes wide open and all, was it not?" replied Two with a grim chuckle.
Berengar bent down and examined One with an officious air—feeling his pulse, sniffing his breath, and performing various other unaccountable actions. Then he nodded firmly. "It's as I suspected. He needs professional treatment."
"Really?" said Two, concerned. "Where will we get one of those?..."
"Allow me," said Berengar, stepping close. With one great hand, he picked One up by his leather jerkin and pitched him headlong into the basin of icy-cold water.
One glided into the water like a stiff board, face presented upwards, arms by his sides. Nothing. A twitch of the muscles. His eyes flicked open. A silent scream bubbled out of his mouth. Then, with a convulsive start, he thrashed upright, the end of a strangled cry becoming audible as his face emerged from the water.
"Yeaarrkk!" He looked around in surprise, then snapped, "How did you get in here?” he said, staring at Brand and Berengar. Then, remembering they were his guests he grimaced and gathered himself, “Where's Pikar?... Wait, what time is it? Give me ten more minutes..." he muttered and, closing his eyes, he lay back in the pool, floating with arms folded behind his head. He rested his eyes for a moment before speaking again. "Two and Three, prepare breakfast, would you? I have just had a terrible dream..."
Two and Three became animated. Their brother was okay! "Sure thing, One!" they replied in unison, then got to it.
One cracked open a sly, little eye and peeked sidelong at Brand and Berengar. "Vile wretches! So it wasn't a dream. Just my luck..." He looked more petulant and surly than ever. "What?! Can't a man bathe in peace? Off with you!"
Brand and Berengar turned their backs and swaggered slowly from the room.
Noting their unhurried gait, One took further offense. "Know you no speed? Begone, I say! Go!" he raged at their backs, shaking his fist and splashing cold water in their direction.
Brand replied stubbornly, "I'm going, but I shall not rush helter-skelter through this cramped and disorderly burrow."
One shouted more invectives. But they faded out as Brand returned to the main chamber.
Brand and Berengar went back to playing cards for a time. Occasionally, Brand watched Cil from the corner of his eye, observing this anomaly of a girl with great curiosity. She seemed entirely content, entertaining herself by gazing around the room or working the areas around her wounded thigh with her strong hands. Occasionally, she would get up and stretch like a cat, then hobble around to ensure her leg didn't freeze up completely.
"It's quite cool in here, though the smell could be improved," she said, to no one in particular.
Brand looked over from his cushion and ventured a casual comment. "Yeah, it's nice, isn't it?"
Cil looked at Brand as if he were an unwelcome insect. "Who asked you, ugly?" Then she scowled and stuck out her tongue in childish fashion.
Brand frowned with displeasure and looked away.
Cil flashed her teeth, then turned her attention back to the hamster in front of her, making little squeaking noises and scratching its ear with one finger through the cage.
Shortly after this, Two and Three came out, cleared the table, and laid out the evening's repast.
One appeared with a large mug of wine, and it was clear he had been drinking—his cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were slightly glazed.
"This damnable headache is only just leaving me. Ah, the sweet embrace of wine," he mumbled, trying to sound cheery. However, it was impossible to hide the surly glower on his face at the sight of Cil.
Brand grabbed his chart and brought it to the table, sitting across from One.
"Okay, One, we made a deal. Here is the chart, but first, tell me the escape plan as we agreed."
"What? After you meddled in my affairs? The deal is off. Find your own damned way out!"
"What!? Oathbreaker!" Berengar ejaculated, jumping to his feet.
"We did not shake on it!" persisted One stubbornly.
"Nay," Three spoke out, "you said 'done.'"
"Break your word on a struck deal," Berengar grinned icily, "and The People's Law of the Outlands no longer applies to you, as you well know."
"Meaning...?" replied One stonily, pausing mid-drink and giving Berengar a glassy-eyed leer over his shoulder.
"Meaning," replied Berengar, his eyes pieces of steely flint, "all other rights of yours are null..." One brawny hand shot up and clasped the hilt of his sword.
One stared at Berengar for a long time, his pride vying with what little reason remained in his befuddled mind. Then, swallowing his pride, he answered, "Forgive me. It was the wine, and this damn clout to the head..."
Berengar nodded, accepting One's apology.
One took another swig of wine, and then told them the plan.
"It takes two days and a night to clear the pygmies' territory. The first night, they would sniff you out and come upon you in unguessed numbers." He paused and looked shrewdly at Berengar. "I know not how you eluded them the night Brand was captured."
Berengar vouchsafed nothing.
One continued, "Our situation is precarious, to say the least. So, we wanted a sure-fire route of escape should things turn sour. Three here, being the genius that he is, constructed three contraptions of wood and canvas—like large birds. He said he got the idea from some old sketches. He calls them 'gliders.' He made three of them for us, and said that if it ever became unsafe here, all we’d need to do is grab them and charge off the large outcrop higher up the mountain... that they’d carry us, swift as an eagle, and out of the badlands."
Brand looked at him for a long moment. "And you have tested them?"
"No. We never became desperate enough to attempt it." One shrugged and scratched his bald head.
Brand narrowed his eyes. "This was your great plan?"
"Well, what I’m getting from your chart is as great an unknown."
Berengar's eyes became wide and wild. He turned slowly to face One. "I have been waiting for this moment for a long time."
Brand gave an anxious grimace of reluctant hesitation. But Three broke in. "They will work as designed! I swear it! And I shall show you how to operate them! I would have tested them myself—if One had let me..."
"Great—" Brand said, with exaggerated sarcasm.
"Well said, Three!" cut in Berengar, sprinting to his feet in excitement. "I like a man confident in his craft!" He turned to Brand, his great arms raised above his head, "Brand, I've always thought it would be grand to fly like a hawk—high in the sky, wind in my hair, master of the lands below. Would you deny me this?"
Brand still hesitated. "But what of Cil?" he said, gesturing toward the girl, who had just taken an interest in the conversation.
"What of Cil?" she mocked. "Don't you dare think of leaving me behind. I will fly with Berengar, if you're too cowardly to try it."
Brand drew back in disbelief. "Are all Outlanders mad? But what of your leg?"
"My leg is as sound as my mind. Besides, flying is better than walking for me right now, stupid!" She rolled her eyes.
"Then, we fly!" said Berengar, his eyes faraway and wistful. He was completely enraptured. "Three, begin the training..."
Crack.
"I'll master the contraption before the day is out..."
Crack.
"We shall fly like... What in Makmellah's name?"
Crack! The sound of a hard, crisp substance snapping apart tinkled through the chamber. Everyone went silent. All heads turned toward Berengar's hammock, where the noise had emanated from. Brand jumped to his feet, calling, “The sacred egg!"
***
Read the next post to continue your adventure through the wacky world of Old Earth!
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A creepy folklore story set against the moonlit gardens and rivers of rural Japan, Yōsei-tachi no Kyōen (A Banquet of the Fairies) is a chilling stand-alone story woven from the darkest strands of myth and memory.
A Japanese horror short story Inspired by, and heavily reminiscent of classic Japanese animated fantasy...
