Three Naughty Dwarfs & Their Dirty Secret: A Captive Maiden...

But little did they know... "Oohhh, she the devil... She a bad lil' b*@$, she a rebel!"

"(Note: This story stands by itself, but if you would like to read the full series from the beginning, start with The Living Light Part 1.)"

***

Brand cursed. He had been so enthralled by the story that he, like an indiscreet player at cards, had let the blueprint side tilt forward. He quickly pulled it back, blocking further observation.

 It in fact detailed a strange metallic cylinder, its cross-section revealing an inner array of intricate, glowing cables and nodes. A hundred lines stretched from each component, ending in what appeared to be labeled tags. Brand, of course, could only guess—that’s what he assumed they were, as neither he nor Berengar could understand any of the symbols.

 I'm not a man who tells all he knows," he said to One, frowning at the dwarf’s prying gaze.

 One became suddenly cheery. "I will strike you a deal you cannot refuse—but all in good time. Why haggle when we barely know each other? I've told you our story—so, what of yours?"

 "Yes!" Chimed in Three excitedly. "What of you? And of you too, Tall Man?"

 "Brand's story is much more exciting than mine, I'll wager," chuckled Berengar. "He's seen more beauties than you three or I could ever dream of."

 One sat up, a lewd smile curling his heavy lips. "Oh, and how is this?"

 "What kind of beauties?" said Two, for the first time showing interest in the conversation.

 Brand stared daggers at Berengar, who was now hiding behind his kebab. "It's nothing that exciting. I was raised in a house of ill repute, in Drift's End—the outer district of Revilis Ko'hur. My mother was the mistress of the house, and, well... my father, I never—"

 "Raised in a cathouse! Tell us of the girls!" broke in One impatiently.

 "The girls!" echoed Two.

 Brand pursed his lips. "That's all you dirty dogs will get from me. I shall not speak ill of my sisters."

 An all-round riot broke out. Mugs slammed against sturdy oak, and curses flew as the two dwarfs shouted their outrage at being denied. Then, they turned away from Brand in disgust, and went back to their meals.

 Brand went to finish, "Well, after that—"

 One raised a hand, cutting him off. "We have heard all we care to hear. Tall Man, tell us something interesting."

 Brand made a sign of contempt, glaring angrily at One.

 "Well," said Berengar thoughtfully, "I recall my travels started when I was no more than fourteen winters of age. It was after a village festival, and I found myself in the hayloft of my father's barn—half-straddled by a buxom redhead on one side, and a sleek blonde on the other."

 "That's better!" declared One. "And then?"

 Brand rolled his eyes. Then, seeing that no civilized conversation was possible with such ingrates, he drifted off into thought while Berengar told one outrageous tale after another.

 And so passed three days of halcyon ease. Brand and Berengar ate and dozed away the mornings on hammocks rigged among the sun shafts, while One, Two, and Three slept in their southern chamber.

 The afternoons were full of much large talk and drinking, Ator Periconias then heading off each night to handle their affairs as chieftains of the subhuman pygmies, only to return at an ungodly hour in the morning, and then once again sleep until well after noon each day.

 Brand checked daily on the sacred egg, which Berengar slept with, huddling it in his arms like some great golden hen guarding its chick. Brand thought he had seen it move that night, but it had been still ever since. He decided that it was probably just a hallucination from his heat-stroke.

 And so it went, Brand passing his days without concern, apart from the subhumans' howls that woke him up at times in the night. And the strange muffled cry, which came infrequently, and which caused him to pause and strain his senses, wondering as to its nature and source.

 One would tell him each time that the shafts and caves work in strange ways, and that sounds had a way of echoing up from deep beneath the earth, somehow seeming closer than they really were.

 This made sense to Brand, as far as the chirping, high-pitched caterwauls that hollered out in the night, but this strange muffled cry was disturbingly different. It sounded much closer.

 It came at odd hours of the day, and Brand had considered the pygmies as primarily a nocturnal race. So then why did this muffled cry, echo through the shafts at high noon? Brand found himself pondering it more and more as the days went by.

 It was now the fourth day of Brand and Berengar's stay in the cavern, and the three dwarfs and Berengar sat around the table on the cushions, as was their habit, drinking and trading boisterous talk.

 Brand had recovered and now was restless, and ready to move on with their journey—his mother's life relied on the whimsy of the Mad King's caprice. However, they had not figured out how to escape the badlands yet.

 One watched Brand as he paced back and forth, and judging the youth's anxiety with the practiced eye of a trained haggler, he took this moment to offer a trade.

 "Ho, Thin Boy! You look about ready to jump out of your skin."

 Brand was, at this precise moment, inspecting the group of hamster wheels on the southern end of the chamber for the hundredth time.

 "And if so, what then?" replied Brand hotly. "We can't stay here and swill away the days forever. If I’m to see my mother again, we must complete our task. Berengar, I find you far too casual."

 Berengar's large face took on a look of bovine innocence. "How now, Brand! You do me wrong. We needed rest, and we took it. Now we need a means of egress and"—he paused to take a swig of ale—"no doubt something will fall into our laps shortly..." He gave Brand his most reassuring grin.

 Brand glared at him darkly for a moment, before turning back to the hamster wheels.

 One, with a crafty glint in his eye, called out once more.

 "Brand, we too have pondered upon a way to escape these lands. But I see you're in greater need than we, and so... I'll make you a deal. Let me study that chart you carry, and in exchange, I'll give you a means of escape—along with six days' provisions. You can't ask for a better deal than that, boy."

 Brand grew suddenly suspicious and cast a sideways glance at One. At that moment, the hamster directly in front of Brand sneezed loudly, and a waft of spittle blew across his face. Leaning back and wiping his mouth angrily, he said, "And why is this chart so important to you? You won't be coming with us."

 "True... Well, I'll be straight with you, as I always am—and always have been, if the truth be told." One’s voice took on that familiar obsequious tone. "You see, we only dare go so far into the caverns, and we've only been able to gather so much knowledge of the ancients. But now that we can somewhat read the writing, any written material is of great value to us. Think of it as simply sharing a bit of knowledge with your good friends—friends who might one day owe their lives to it. Is that too much to ask, considering the hospitality we’ve shown you these past few days? Not to mention the deal."

 "I don't trust you when you talk like that, One. You’ve got the crafty expression of a toddler pilfering the cookie jar."

 “Why, you little—” One climbed off his pillow with clear intent to scold Brand physically, but Berengar rested a large hand on his shoulder and laughed—so loudly that all paused to look at him.

 "Brand, take the deal. So what if One is shrewd and crafty? It's all he knows. You must learn that people come in all shapes and sizes out here in the Outlands—no one person is perfect. Except me, of course." At that, he laughed all the harder. "Besides, what harm could come of it?"

 Brand thought Berengar far too lenient, and knew a rogue when he saw one—as he should, he was raised in Drift’s End! But, he could think of no obvious harm in showing One the chart...

 "OK, One, I'll show you the chart—on two conditions." The hamster to his left squeaked loudly, giving him a side-eyed look as it ran, as if asking for food. "First, tell me what method of escape you have for us. Then, tell me what the chart says."

 “Why, my boy—” One began.

 “What is that strange cry?” interrupted Brand. The odd haunting call had occurred again.

 It was louder this time, and Berengar had heard it too, his uncanny hearing catching it from where he sat across the room. Brand was certain it had sounded out from behind him, and he turned to stare over his left shoulder towards the southern passage.

 One, Two, and Three went silent. Berengar sat up and looked quizzically across the room with his head cocked to one side, listening like a hound. Nothing. The sound had ceased.

 Brand looked slowly back towards the others and met One's sinister yellow-eyed glare.

 “Forget it, Brand. Come sit with us and show me your chart,” he said, without a drop of warmth to his voice. He sat extremely still. A palpable tension filled the room between them, and Brand felt compelled to walk over and sit down as he was bid—to do anything to ease that tension.

 “A deal's a deal... Okay, done,” said Brand.

 “Done,” intoned One. “Now come, sit back down like a good lad...”

 An eerie feeling built inside Brand, and it told him not to let this slide. He had to know what had made that noise. Berengar, had he been inside Brand's head, would have mocked him, calling it his womanly intuition. Well, so what if he had grown up with only girls to look up to? There was the sound again, and suddenly the faint muffled cries of three days reverberated in Brand's mind. And at once, the recollected sounds resolved into clarity.

 It had been a girl's voice.

 Brand dashed into the southern passage, ignoring the calls from One.

 Brand's lean, long legs carried him rapidly through the dimly lit tunnel. It angled to the left, and then opened up into another broad chamber, like the one he had become so familiar with.

 Against the left wall of the chamber was a large table, clearly a workbench, boasting all the necessary tools and devices for wood and metalwork. It held clamps, hammers and saws, hand-cranked drills, bits and scraps of steel and wood. A number of incomplete projects were littered on the bench and around it on the floor.

 Directly ahead was a large stack of wooden crates, filling that quarter of the chamber.

 The right wall was stacked high with many giant hamster cages, most housing a healthy, large rodent, but some empty—obviously the homes of those hamsters currently on duty in the main room—or of those who had been yesterday's lunch.

 Brand ran through the chamber, banging cages as he went, and calling out, “Hello! Is anyone there?! Hello?!” He paused to listen with the practiced ear of a Waggler. He heard footsteps in the tunnel behind him. Three pairs of rapid steps. One pair of long strides. Nothing else.

 Brand reached the wooden crates and moved among them, rapping on their tops, continuing his broadcast. He paused. A faint muffled call? Yes, there it was again. Definitely a girl's voice. And it came from... behind the crates.

 He waded through the crates as fast as he could, and, reaching the far corner, dragged the last crate aside to reveal a circular trapdoor of wood, like the lid to a great flour gourd fitted snugly into the stone floor.

 One flew into the room with Two and Three on either side, his face a horrible mask of wrath. His hazel eyes glinted yellow with hatred in the dim light—the eyes of a hunting wolf. His compact body bulged with rounded muscles, a living walnut-beetle of a man. Two and Three spread out at his sides, flanking him, spitting images of One, but not angry—only tense and determined. All three drew their serrated eight-inch knives.

 “Keep your prying hands out of our business, you ungrateful brat!” One bellowed as they advanced.

 Brand turned to meet them, then, looking down glumly at his belt, realized he carried no weapons. He knew he wouldn't survive sixty seconds with those three brutes among the tightly packed sea of crates.

 “Easy there, friends. I don’t like spilling the blood of mine host—but touch the lad, and you won’t have any further need for secrets, at least on this side of hell.”

 The sheer menace in a voice normally easy and calm gave them pause. All three looked back to see the looming silhouette of Berengar, as he disgorged himself from the tight tunnel and straightened, extending to his full six feet four inches. His face was indistinct in the dim light, but his white teeth glinted in a lion's grin, and blue steel flashed in his hands—he had not forgotten his weapon.

 One froze in indecision, fuming, his bald head red with wrath. He knew the odds as well as Berengar, and his devious mind searched frantically for a route to victory. Two and Three stopped also, waiting for One's command. Two looked only petulant; Three, however, looked ashamed.

 Brand took this moment to tear loose the wooden plug in the floor. He found himself staring down into another dimly lit natural cavern, similar to the main room and the one he now stood in. Only it was empty of clutter, aside from a neat stack of used dishes and a basket with the remains of food in it.

 In the center of the room, staring up at Brand with wide, angry eyes, was a beautiful girl, short but well-formed. She wore oversized, dark-red breeches, tied off at the knees, revealing tanned calves. Her feet were planted shoulder-width apart in ridiculously large, brown shoes with big, gray-colored, rounded toes. She wore a baggy white shirt with the sleeves cut off, revealing tanned and strong—but not unwomanly—arms. A brown silk sash was tied tightly around her waist into a complicated knot on her left hip, leaving a long tassel hanging at her side.

  She appeared roughly the same age as Brand. Her face was symmetrical with a perfect straight nose. Her eyes were large, green, and spaced evenly apart. She had a wild jagged fringe of straight, dark-red hair, the rest of which was piled high, and tied off with a long white ribbon, ending in a tuft which fluffed out like a timber wolf's tail. She had small ears set above a strong but delicate jaw, which ended in a pointed chin. She had thick rosy lips, which were, at this moment, curled in an angry snarl, showing strong white teeth. She was beautiful.

 “What are you looking at, you gawking sunflower?! Get me outta here!” she said, shaking her fist in anger and making crude gestures at Brand.

 Brand looked away from her, and grimaced. "Perhaps I was mistaken, she's a damned wolverine," he muttered under his breath.

 “What was that?? Why you! Don't you leave me down here!” Came the girl's voice from the hole.

 Brand directed an icy stare at One. “What is the meaning of this, One? You conniving, beastly little—”

 “Oh, enough!” cut in One with a dismissive gesture as he paced side to side in the center of the room. “Be damned to you, Brand. I've treated her well and all, fed her, allowed her to keep herself clean, never forced myself upon her yet.” He spoke with angry gesticulations, waving his hands wildly about his head as he paced.

 “Like I'd believe you after this,” said Brand, indicating the hole. “And since it is quite obvious that you keep her captive for some use, why are you keeping her?”

 “Damnit, Brand! It gets lonely out here in the hills. I crave human companionship... She is to be... And don't you dare laugh! She is to be my lawful and wedded wife.”

 Brand didn't laugh. Instead, he scowled bleakly and shook his head.

 “Wife, hey?! I'll show you wife! You misbegotten spawn of an ill-bred...” Brand put the plug over the hole temporarily to facilitate further communication.

 "Well, as you can see, she doesn't want to be your wife, good Ator Periconias." Brand paused, considering that very statement—Ator Periconias—was a three-man show and... He wondered if all three intended to... well... never mind, it was not to be thought of.

 The girl had ceased her tirade and Brand once again removed the plug off the hole.

 "In time, I planned to gain her affection," One growled back at Brand, refusing to make eye contact.

 "We have been good to her!" spoke up Three earnestly.

 "And you planned to, somehow, 'win her over'? By keeping her pent in a hole in the floor? I can see you have a way with women," said Brand angrily.

 "Be damned! She's mine! Alright? Mine! I found her fair and square. Now be off with you two—take your leave from these parts! We struck a bargain; stick to it."

 "I propose a different agenda. The girl comes with us," said Brand, an edge of danger to his voice.

 "What? Would you spill my blood? Break the Law of Host and Guest?" sneered One.

 "I ain't going with none of you!" cried the girl from below.

 Brand directed a pained glance down at her. "I'm trying to help you."

"Words! Nothing but words!" she said with a sneer.

 Brand didn't deign a response. Instead, controlling his annoyance, he reached down and held out his hand.

 A small, strong hand clasped his own, and he pulled the girl up through the mouth of the hole. As soon as she could gain purchase, she clambered to her feet and awkwardly released her grip on his hand. She stood there tense, ready to pounce in any direction—a cornered she-panther.

 Seeing the girl for the first time, Berengar looked her over with a sudden sparkle in his blue eyes, as if an idea had just come to him. "Nay, Brand, we shall not break the Law of Host and Guest. Would you draw Kulzibar down on us?"

 "So you're going to just let them keep her here?" Brand asked, shocked.

 "Over my dead body!" raged the girl, shaking her fist at one and all.

 "Nay also to that, good Brand," replied Berengar, ignoring the girl's comment, but sizing her up and down admiringly. He nodded decisively and spoke with a smirk upon his lips.

 "One, you wish to force her to be your wife? Well then, show us you are man enough to do so."

 "What are you saying, you great oaf?" said One, squinting blackly up at the golden giant.

 "I am saying, you damnable devil of a half-man"—Berengar’s voice took on a steely edge—"either you win her fairly, or we’ll defend her—trial by combat. Go on. Win her love." He waved his sword at One, shooing him forward, a grim smile on his thick lips.

 Brand was staggered by this barbarous proposal—man against woman? He spoke out indignantly. "You can't be serious... that is not a fair fight—"

 A swift buffet interrupted his sentence, and he found himself cupping a ringing ear with one hand. That smarted like the devil! he thought. Had he been clouted with a wooden paddle? But turning to his left, he saw the girl grinning, her open, calloused palm still raised.

 "Not a fair fight, hey?" she said to Brand, flashing her teeth. "And this one's for interrupting my comments with that horrid plug!" She struck again. But this time, Brand dodged deftly between the crates.

 "I'm in a mood to whip all of you today!" she went on. "Trial by combat it is! I am the challenger, and the challenged may choose his preference—armed or unarmed—it matters not to me."

 "Like helping a wounded animal," Brand muttered under his breath as he leaned back—intentionally out of her reach.

 "What was that?" the girl said, advancing on him ominously.

 "I said, 'she must be as hungry as a cannibal.'"

 "Oh... Well, yes. But, I shall do my killing first and eat afterward." She returned her menacing gaze to One.

 Berengar laughed in savage enjoyment at the prospective conflict. He called in a great, booming voice, "One against the girl, trial by combat! The stakes: this fair maiden's hand in marriage!"

 "This 'girl,' this 'fair maiden,' has a name. And that name is Cil!" replied the girl, gritting her teeth. "And, I'll show you marriage!"

 "Cil?" replied Berengar, unfazed. "A good name. A steadfast name." He chuckled with grim humor. "So be it! One against Cil!"

***

Read the next post to find out if Cil wins her freedom — or if the treacherous One claims her as his wife…

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Here is the desciption and link to purchase:

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...