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Authors: Brian Lumley

BOOK: Ship of Dreams
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Again, Gytherik
“That’s Gytherik, said Here.”He’s somehow picked up our trail.”
“You state the obvious beautifully,” said Eldin.
“Not
our
trail,” Limnar contradicted, “mine. He must have gone back to the volcano, saw my snapped bit of rope lying where it fell, picked up the trail from there. Actually, I thought I saw the gaunts over the shores of the Southern Sea before I set out on foot for Zura, but I couldn’t be sure.”
“Well, now you’re sure,” said Eldin. “And now we can tell Gytherik where his father is. That will release us from our pledge to Mathur. Gytherik himself can flap off and find his father a shantak-bird’s egg.”
“Or,” said Hero, thoughtfully stroking his chin, “we can do a little trading with the gaunt-master.”
“Trading?” Eldin was immediately suspicious. “What sort of trading?”
“Yes,” said Limnar, “tell us more. What’s young Gytherik got that we want so badly?”
“Gaunts!” Hero laughed out loud. “He’s got gaunts—and they’re five times as fast in the air as one of these
damned ships. By the time Zura gets to Serannian, we’ll have been waiting for her for at least a couple of days!”
“What?” Eldin’s bull roar signaled his disapproval. “If you think for one minute that I’ll—”
“Think?” Hero cut him off. “I damn well know you will!”
“Hero’s right,” said Limnar. “Kuranes needs as much time as we can win for him. I’m all for it. It’s a good plan.”
“Oh?” Eldin snarled. “And what happens if we tell Gytherik about his old man and he just hops back on a gaunt and leaves us here anyway?”
“We don’t tell him till we get to Serannian, stupid!” Hero answered. “Anyway, here’s the man himself.”
Coming up fast from behind, a little higher than the ship’s mainmast, Gytherik led his gaunts in a Vee-shaped formation. The youth’s eyes scanned the deck of the black ship until he found the three where they stood by the helm. Now he gestured and his gaunts swooped down into the rigging and settled upon sails and ratlines, worrying at them in an attempt to disable the vessel.
“Hey, cut that out!” yelled Hero.
“Dammit all, you need us more than we need you!” roared Eldin.
“And that’s the truth!” Limnar shouted.
“Gytherik,” Hero yelled, “will you listen to me? We’ve found your father!”
And at last there was a reaction. Gytherik hauled his huge beast back up and signaled to the lesser gaunts to join him in the sky over the ship. From on high he called down, “What kind of trick is this, David Hero? What do you mean, you’ve found my father? You can’t possibly have found him. Nor will I—until you’re dead!”
“Wrong!” roared Eldin. “We know where he is, and we know how to set him free. In fact, we’ve promised to do just that. Now then, for the last time, will you talk?”
At Gytherik’s command his great gaunt sideslipped and drew level with the ship’s bridge. The rest of the gaunts flew off to a respectful distance. “Go on,” said the gaunt-master, “talk—but it had better be good.”
“All right, listen,” said Hero. He crossed to the rail and leaned toward Gytherik. “As Eldin said, we know where Mathur is and we know what it will take to free him, but we also want something from you.”
“Name it and it’s yours,” cried Gytherik, beginning to believe. “But only tell me where my father is. Tell me, and if you speak the truth you’ll have no more trouble from me. But if you lie—”
“Hold it, Gytherik,” said Hero, “you’re in no position to threaten. Not anymore. If we tell what we know straight out, that’s it. We’d never see you again.”
“But that’s what you want, isn’t it? It’s what we all want.”
“Not quite,” said Limnar from Hero’s side. “We have a quest of our own, Gytherik. We have to get to Serannian before Zura and her armada. You help us and we’ll help you.”
“Zura?” Gytherik called back. “I saw her fleet leave Zura the land. What’s she got to do with it?”
“With your problem, nothing,” growled Eldin as he joined his friends. “But it’s a problem for thousands of others. Zura intends to send Serannian and all her inhabitants plummeting out of the sky. Her reason: to strengthen her army of corpses, her zombie minions. After that—” he shrugged. “She’ll murder all dreamland!”
Gytherik flew his gaunt closer. “And if I help you to
get to Serannian before her, you’ll tell me where my father is and how to set him free?”
“That’s the deal,” Hero nodded, “yes.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“Can you afford not to believe us?”
After a moment or two Gytherik shook his head. “No,” he said. He hovered his great mount over the deck and reined in. The gaunt settled and immediately headed for cover in the shadow of a sail. Gytherik dismounted and turned to the three. “They don’t like sunlight, my gaunts,” he explained. “And they hate flying in daylight. Can I bring them aboard?”
“That will be all right,” answered Limnar, captain of his black ship. “They can go down below if they like—providing they don’t touch anything.”
Gytherik called down the lesser gaunts and they all filed below, like a troupe of faceless pterodactyls. Now the adventurers could see the strain on Gytherik’s young face, his visible weariness. “I suppose it’s time I began to trust somebody,” he said. “On my own, I’m aging a year every week! But what’s all this about Zura and Serannian? Does she really mean to destroy that beautiful, sky-floating city?”
“She does indeed,” Limnar nodded gravely.
“That can’t be allowed.”
“Our sentiments exactly,” said Hero. “Do I take it then that we’re agreed?”
“Maybe,” answered Gytherik cautiously—and then: “Since I’m over a barrel, yes.” He stuck out his hand. There were handshakes all round, following which Limnar asked if it would be safe to go below decks with the gaunts down there.
“By now they’ll be fast asleep,” Gytherik answered. “They won’t stir unless you give them a kick, probably not even then. They don’t make for good company, I assure
you. Not just because they’re unpleasant creatures; chiefly because they’re boring.”
As Limnar went below to attend to the buoyancy engines, Eldin said: “You’ve put my mind at rest no end, young Gytherik. I was beginning to believe you actually liked those rubbery horrors of yours!”
“Oh, you get used to them,” the other answered. “But you may believe me when I say that I’d have no truck with them if they hadn’t become necessary to my search. However distasteful, they’re certainly handy as a means of transport. If we let them rest through the remainder of the day and bring them out at dusk, we’ll be in Serannian by this time tomorrow morning.”
“One thing,” said Hero. “I counted eight little ‘uns, and your big ’un makes nine. I was just wondering how we’ll all manage?”
“My big ’un, as you call him, is tireless once he’s airborne. He’ll take me, for I’m used to him. The captain is tall but slight; the two smallest gaunts can take him. Two each of the rest for you and the Wanderer. That leaves two spare to spell the rest of the bunch. It should be easy—provided you wrap up warm. The way I see it, we’d climb to a high altitude and then simply glide for most of the way. The gaunts are good at gliding.”
“Er, yes, we know,” muttered Eldin.
“Eh?” Gytherik looked at him, and when no answer was forthcoming continued: “With the wind in this direction it shouldn’t be at all complicated. We’ll need to rig up harnesses for you that the gaunts can handle, so that they can change over without difficulty when they spell each other. Also, you’ll have to put your trust in me …”
“What’s that?” said Eldin sharply. “Oh, yes, that’s right. For of course you could tell them to drop us right out of the sky.”
“Why should he do that?” asked Limnar as he appeared from below decks.
“As a short cut to my father,” Gytherik answered. “I don’t blame you fellows for worrying about this. After all, I’ve already tried to kill you twice!”
“Listen,” said Hero. “As far as I’m concerned those were pretty half-hearted attempts. You weren’t giving it your all, else we’d be dead. Anyway, you’ve already proved your own sincerity by landing on this ship and placing your gaunts in our hands. And we’ve proved ours. If we were simply trying to trap you we could do you in right now.”
“So if we all trust each other so much,” said Gytherik, “why don’t you tell me what I want to know? About my father, I mean.”
“The temptation might be too great,” Limnar supplied the answer. “You might just go shooting off on your own to free him. And we really do need your help. All Serannian needs it. By helping us—just this once—you can clear yourself of all other misdeeds. Namely, your attempts on Hero’s and the Wanderer’s lives.”
“We’re sinking,” said Eldin, who had been silent for a while.
“That’s right,” Limnar agreed. “I’ve blown gas out of the chambers. Hero, did you make those fishing lines last night?”
“You’ve just reminded me how hungry I am!” Hero grinned. “Come on then, let’s do some fishing.”
 
The fish were biting and in a very short while several large ones were turning brown over a small wood fire which burned in a large copper pan in the center of the deck. With the flotation chambers filling again and the ship rising once more into the sky, the four sat down to their meal and made plans. Limnar, who perhaps had
the greatest interest in saving Serannian, had most to say:
“I think,” he started, “we all should take it easy today. Do some sleeping, take turns at the helm, have another good meal later tonight. In this fair wind the ship will continue to fly herself. We’ll go for broke and see just how high we can sail her. That will save the gaunts. Then, tonight, when they’ve had their fill of sleep and darkness gives us cover, we’ll scuttle this hulk and go gaunt riding. What say you?” And he looked from face to face of the others.
“We’ll need to make harnesses,” reminded Hero.
“And I’m not too sure I like the idea of the gaunts simply holding me aloft in a web of ropes,” added Eldin. “Can’t we tie the harnesses to their damned necks?”
“Uh-uh,” Gytherik shook his head. “They’ll need to spell each other, remember? No, I reckon Limnar is right. Our best bet is to get as much height as we can out of the pirate. Then the gaunts won’t be flapping so much as gliding. That way they’ll last much longer. In any case, they don’t tire easily. But I do. Right now, I’m for a nap.”
“I’ll go along with that,” said Limnar, rubbing at his eyes. “While we sleep the adventurers here can fix up the harnesses and keep an eye on our course and altitude.”
“Right,” Hero agreed. “We’ll wake you in the early afternoon and get our own heads down. Then—”
“Then it’ll be evening,” Eldin rumbled ominously, “and we’ll be placing ourselves at the tender mercies of Gytherik’s gaunts.”
“Don’t you trust me after all then, Wanderer?” Gytherik chuckled.
“’Course I do,” Eldin forced a grin. And less cheerfully: “I damned well have to, don’t I?”
Under False Colors
As the last rays of the sun illumined the sky to the west in a golden glow, so Gytherik mounted his gaunt and his three new friends climbed into their harnesses. All four of them wore parkas roughly fashioned of sailcloth as protection against the cold, for their altitude was now such that thin ice shrouded the rigging and their breath plumed in air which made the tiny hairs crackle in their nostrils as they breathed.
Two miles or more below them and some five or six miles to the west—like flyspecks on the golden, slowly closing window of evening—Zura’s fleet forged for Serannian, and even at so great a distance that silent armada exuded its monstrous threat. And as Limnar had pointed out half an hour earlier, if they could see Zura’s ships she could probably see theirs. Which was why, just before Eldin climbed into his harness to be lifted gently up and away from the frozen ship, he threw a fire-brand down into an open hatch.
Below decks things had been quickly prepared: oil intended for the engine had been splashed over coils of rope and the flotation chambers were pre-set to vent all of their mainly mythical essence in one mad rush.
When that happened the black ship would drop out of the sky like a comet, blazing as she went, and Zura would see her fatal fall. Then that Mistress of Death would worry no more about the lone pursuer and her unknown, unsung crew, and the mission of the four would be kept that much more of a secret.
And the plan worked to perfection, for indeed Zura saw the unknown vessel plummet to her doom—but she did not see the flock of gaunts (known collectively as a “grim”) which came winging down the wind to pass high overhead in a long, swift, silent glide …
The armada was silent, too, and only a single, pale blue light—insubstantial as a death-fire—bore any testimony at all to its presence there in dreamland’s night sky. That was the light from Zura’s cabin on
The Cadaver,
where she now lay in the arms of a fresh lover … dead only a day or two from strangulation at the hands of a jealous husband. Zura had taken the liberty of removing his purple, protruding tongue, but there was little she could do about his glaring, bloodshot eyes …
And into the cold night glided Gytherik’s gaunts, with their burden of shivering humanity clinging tight to frozen harnesses and setting their teeth against the windy rush of their flight. Mercifully, as the miles sped by and their altitude rapidly decreased, some of the numbness went out of them. Then a warm wind from the south found them and they opened their sailcloth parkas and finally discarded them, gray rags that whirled in the slipstream of the speeding gaunts before sinking in spirals and pirouettes to disappear in darkness.
Overhead the stars turned in their slow wheel and the moon arced like a slow, silver celestial discus from horizon toward distant horizon. And the hours sped by and
the glide continued; and strangely, the adventurers began to discover a fantastic exhilaration in their weird journey across dreamland’s heavens. They felt like great nocturnal birds, masters of all the capricious winds of night, and the pure joy of living rose up in them like bubbles in champagne. Even their mission and its utmost urgency took a backseat to this sheer
joie de vivre;
so that as dawn issued its first roseate gleam far behind them, they actually found themselves despairing of the coming day. They wished that their ride could go on and on …
Then, in a faint dusting of light far ahead, they spied that darker blot in the dark indigo of the sky, that half-magical, floating mass of rock, flesh, blood, soil, myth and miles-high adventure which was Serannian. Far off as yet and below them, the night lights of the city grew brighter with their steady approach, until it seemed to the four that they sped toward some scintillant asteroid frozen in a catastrophic fall to earth.
But frozen for how long? Zura would see that fall resumed if she could—was on her way right now to do just that—and who to say her no? Thoughts such as these sobered the fliers as the miles shortened between themselves and the aerial city; and as dawn bloomed more fully behind them so Serannian’s lights seemed to dim and her bulk loomed massive in the sky.
The wings of the gaunts were beating now, but beating tiredly for their glide was long ended and they had flown for many a mile. Thus it was a weary throb of air which first alerted the pikemen atop Serannian’s walls to the grim’s arrival; that and the sight of their nightmare, prehistoric shapes growing out of the fresh risen sun as they sped toward the legended sky-island. Ah, but a change had taken place along that wall! Its once welcoming turrets and embrasures were now battlements
in the fullest meaning of the word, where showed the squat snouts and shining mirrors of ray-projectors and the solid platforms and piled boulders of hastily but sturdily constructed ballistae.
Limnar Dass was first to alight upon the wall, and as he loosened himself from his harness so the challenge came from close at hand: “Who goes there? Friend or foe?” And from along the wall to both sides there were cries of alert and the scrape of weapons hastily realigned.
“Hold your fire!” cried Limnar. “We’re friends. I’m Captain Dass of Kuranes’ fleet, and these men are the King’s agents. Aye, and even the gaunts are friends … of a sort.”
“Hold fire!” the cry echoed all along the wall as an Officer of the Pike climbed up with three guardsmen to where the gaunt-riders were dismounting. A thin dawn mist hung over Serannian’s walls, and the officer came forward carefully through its swirly veil to stare hard at the sky-captain.
“Dass!” he said. “Limnar Dass. Indeed it is you. We’ve orders for you and your friends, Limnar.”
“Orders?” Limnar clasped the other’s outstretched hand. “What orders?”
“That in the event of you and your friends returning to Serannian, you’re to report to Kuranes on the double.”
Limnar nodded. “I expected some such. And I can see that Lord Kuranes has not been idle in the last week or so. Does this ring of armaments surround the entire sky-island?”
“It surely does,” answered the other. “Doubtless Kuranes will tell you all about that when he sees you. I’m sorry to be so abrupt and off-hand, Limnar, but orders are orders. You’re lucky that the Tilt is lying in
your favor; you can be with Kuranes in little more than an hour.”
“Less than that,” said Gytherik, stretching his limbs. “Just give the gaunts a couple of minutes to recover their strength—” he jerked a thumb at the faceless, rubbery creatures where they huddled together at the very rim of the wall, “and they’ll be ready to take us on the last leg of our trip.”
“A magician?” said the Officer of the Pike, warily eyeing Gytherik up and down. And as Hero and Eldin approached he added: “And a pair of wandering rogues! I’ve heard plenty about these two in the last few days, and very little of it complimentary. Strange company you’re keeping, Limnar.”
“If you’ve anymore insults, constable or officer or whatever you style yourself,” snarled Eldin through his beard, “keep them to yourself. I’d as soon cave in your tin helmet as listen to anymore of your loose, uncivil lip!” He loomed over the suddenly silent captain and glared down at him.
“Easy, old lad,” cautioned Hero, catching at his friend’s elbow. “He means no harm, and we’ve no valuable time to waste in cracking skulls.” He turned to the officer. “You run along now and, er, give your orders. We’ll be on our way again in a minute.”
“Er, well, yes—” agreed the cowering officer, staring upon into Hero’s wild-seeming face; and he retreated with his men down stone steps and into a nearby bartizan.
Now the four stretched themselves and did a few warming exercises on the wide wall. The sun rose higher and the mist lifted, and the gaunts began to shuffle about uncomfortably as they felt the sun’s rays warm on their clammy hides. Finally Gytherik said:
“Right, let’s get on our way,” and without pause he
called to his great gaunt and climbed up onto the base of its neck. “And when at last we reach Kuranes’ manor house, then you’ll tell me what I want to know, right?”
“Right,” agreed Hero emphatically. “And after that it’s up to you. If you want to stay and help us fight off Zura, fine. If not—well, we won’t blame you. You can go off on your own and see to your father’s rescue. And we’ll all wish you the very best of luck. Actually, I myself wouldn’t be so keen on the coming fight if I didn’t figure that we owe Zura a bloody nose.” His eyes narrowed.
“Damn right we do,” growled Eldin. “And she’ll be sorry she ever tangled with us, you may believe it. But it’s not your fight, Gytherik. You must do as you think best. If you choose to go after your old man, well, that’s your choice. Just make sure you give him our regards when you see him.”
Moments later the grim launched itself from the wall and, with Limnar Dass taking the lead, rose into the sky over Serannian and set a course for Kuranes’ manor house. And it was then that the sky-captain spotted something in the city’s great harbor—something which caused him to call out:
“Down there, lads—look! That white ship amid the harbor’s clutter.”
“What of it?” Hero yelled back.
“Don’t you recognize her lines?”
“I do,” boomed Eldin, “and her Kraken figurehead!”
“One of Zura’s ships?” called Gytherik. “Are you sure?”
“I’d know those lines anywhere,” cried Limnar. Ships have been my whole life, remember? What say we go down and take a closer look?”
“We had better do just that,” Hero agreed. “Kuranes
may not know it, but suddenly I’ve a suspicion he’s harboring a viper in his bosom. A black one painted white!”
They zoomed down out of the sky and alighted on the white ship’s deck. Hero freed himself from his harness and went to the rail where he chipped at the fresh paint with his sword. “Limnar’s right!” he growled to himself as he touched the black surface beneath the white.
“And look at this octopus figurehead,” boomed Eldin. “Even with its white paint and its sea-green eyes, still it’s the very picture of evil!”
Limnar, who had been below decks, came up white-faced and trembling. Eldin caught hold of him and steadied him. “What’s down there?” the burly adventurer demanded.
“Carboys of gas,” Limnar answered. “Green gas! And bales of straw where other bottles have lain …”
“Here now, what’s all this?” came a gruff, official-sounding voice of inquiry from the gangplank. A stout little man puffed into view followed by half a dozen pikemen with their weapons at the ready.
“And who the hell are you?” questioned Eldin in his softest, most dangerous voice, his eyes narrowing as they settled on the glinting pikeheads where they were leveled at him and his companions.
Hero stepped forward to lay a restraining hand on his belligerent friend’s shoulder. He knew that Eldin was close to eruption. He was like a smoldering volcano which suddenly rumbles and emits clouds of steam, threatening at any second to vent its fury over all who stand near. And Hero fully understood the older man’s mood. So much had happened to them—they had triumphed over so many difficulties—and yet even now, when all should be plain sailing, still there were petty
obstacles to be overcome and fat, petty men asking piffling, flatulent questions. And as Hero had correctly deduced, Eldin had just about had enough.
“Dammit!” The burly adventurer shrugged Hero’s hand away. “I’m cold, tired, hungry—and I’m bloody angry!”
Before Hero could utter a word Eldin whirled on the newcomers, his straight sword leaping into his hand to shear cracklingly through six pikeshafts as if they were straws. Then its edge came magically to rest—one eighth of an inch from the little fat man’s neck. “You,” Eldin grated, his face split in a white, mirthless grin. “I asked you a question. Who are you?”
“Ulphar,” gurgled the other, his eyes threatening to pop from his head. “Ulphar Oormell. I’m the harbormaster.”
“Well, then, harbormaster,” Eldin growled, “call off your dogs, and quickly, while my patience lasts.” And he glared at the pikemen where they had backed off against the ship’s rail.
“Now then,” said Hero placatingly, getting between Eldin and the soldiers, “that’s enough fooling about for now. Limnar, be so good as to tell these fellows who we are, will you?”
Limnar quickly obliged and as the tension eased so Eldin sheathed his sword. When Hero saw that his friend once more had himself under control, he ventured, “Great oaf! We’re on their side, you know.”
“I know it,” answered the other. “It’s just that I think someone should tell them, that’s all.”
“Yes, well, Limnar’s doing that right now,” said Hero.
“So there you have it in a nutshell,” Limnar finished his brief explanation to the still goggling harbormaster. “Without a doubt this is one of Zura’s ships, disguised
to get into port here in advance of her main fleet. Which means that there are spies and saboteurs already in the city. Now we have to get to Kuranes as quickly as we can. You’ll excuse us?”
The fat man nodded, his jowls wobbling like jelly. “Of course, sirs, most certainly. And what’s more, I’ll fill this ship with guardsmen like flies round a pot of honey!”
“Oh?” Eldin cynically rumbled. “Well, just make sure they’re less easily swatted than this lot. If not, Zura’s dead ’uns will surely climb all over them!”

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