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Authors: Brian Lumley

BOOK: Ship of Dreams
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Sub-Serannian
By midnight the groundwork had been completed and as much was known about Zura’s advance troops as could be gleaned without actually entering their lairs. Those “lairs” were of course the subterranean (or sub-Serannian, as Hero had it) engine rooms which supplied the sky-island’s cavernous flotation chambers with near-mythical, gravity-defying essence. The chambers themselves were vast natural and artificial caves buried deep in Serannian’s heart-rock, from which the essence was vented as its efficacy waned. Some of this vented essence went to the air-baths; the rest was allowed to leak into the sky around Serannian, there to become one with that aerial Gulf Stream known as the Cerenerian Sea.
And so far Eldin’s assessment of the situation had proved to be accurate; for through a system of covert surveillance organized by Chelos Smith and Allain Merrinay, it had been discovered that indeed the zombie saboteurs had infiltrated not only three of Serannian’s four master engine rooms but also three secondary stations. They had been in complete control of these vital underground installations for some twenty-four hours;
but before that, as a coercive measure, they had kidnapped and made hostages of certain of Seranian’s citizens—namely, the nearest and dearest of the flotation engineers in charge of the target stations.
Now normally Serannian’s citizens were staunch and upright as any you might find in all the dreamlands, and had circumstances been otherwise and the enemy merely mortal the suborned engineers certainly would have found a way to fight back. Such was the love of the populace in general for Serannian that they would willingly give up their lives for the airborne city. This adversary was
not
normal, however, and the circumstances were quite extraordinary.
When a human felon takes a hostage as a means of coercion or for blackmail purposes, there is always the chance that he will eventually release his prisoner whether or not his purpose is achieved. Zura’s zombies, on the other hand, had left no doubt whatever in the minds of their engineer victims as to what would happen to their loved ones in the event of their secret invasion being discovered. And because the zombies were what they were, the engineers were certain that if their wishes were not met, then that their loved ones were doomed. Who might bring to book someone already dead?
Also, while Serannian’s citizens were aware that the city was threatened, Kuranes had not seen fit to reduce his fears to specifics; he had no desire to bring about wholesale panic among the populace. Thus, while the flotation engineers appreciated that the zombie infiltration of their plants must be part of some far greater menace, they were not aware of the exact nature of the threat. And so they carried out their duties as before, reporting for their shifts as required, and all the time hoping against hope that the zombie plot (whatever it was)
would come unstuck and the threat evaporate. And after all, that was as much as could be expected of them if they were not to jeopardize the lives of their loved ones.
This had been their predicament as reported by Chelos Smith’s surveillance crews; and now, as the midnight hour went by and members of relief shifts of engineers, in their sadly depleted homes, prepared in desultory fashion for work in their various underground plants, so Smith’s and Merrinay’s hastily mustered fources waited at the dark entrances to those scattered buildings which housed the elevators. A dozen men in all and hand picked, these were the vengeful forces which had been deemed fit to impersonate the engineers, to penetrate the flotation plants, to liberate the hostages and destroy Zura’s zombies before they could perpetrate their acts of sabotage.
Twelve men forming six teams, one to each suspect plant; and as Smith had more than hinted, one of those six teams was comprised of David Hero and Eldin the Wanderer. Now, kitted out in clean white engineer’s coveralls, they waited with Councillor Smith himself and two other stalwart citizens at the head of the shaft which fell to one of the city’s main plants. And with practiced punctuality, fifteen minutes before the hour of Two in the morning, the genuine engineers converged despondently on the scene and entered the elevator building—immediately to be greeted by Chelos Smith.
“All right, you men,” his voice called from the shadows as the engineers were about to enter the elevator’s cage. “Take it easy—we know what’s been going on.”
Tired, nervous and edgy by reason of their predicament, the pair started violently and one of them dropped his bag of tools. They turned toward the five men who stepped forward into plain view. “What’s all this?” one of them gulped, his Adam’s apple visibly working, face
white in the sudden beam of Smith’s glowstone hand-torch.
“No need to pretend to us,” Eldin growled. “We know your plight. How many hostages do the zombies hold?”
“Hostages?” the second engineer managed to get the word out. “Zombies? What are you talking—”
“Listen,” Hero snarled, his chin starting to jut aggressively. He grabbed the two men by the loose material at the neck of their coveralls. “There’s not much time. If you want to see your sweethearts and loved ones alive, just answer a couple of questions truthfully and with none of your flim-flam. We’re not patient men …”
“For the last time,” Eldin growled and lowered his scarred face to peer searchingly into the eyes of the engineers. “How many hostages, how many zombies?”
“Five zombies, four hostages,” gulped the tallest of the two. “A hostage from each shift’s family.”
The other engineer grabbed at Hero’s arm. “But wait!” he cried, his voice cracked and high-pitched. “You don’t know what you’re doing. These are dead men! They’re cold, emotionless. You can’t stop them. How can you hope to rescue our people?”
“We have more experience of Zura’s zombies than you’d ever guess,” Hero answered. “And we’re not engineers, we’re swordsmen.” He tapped the pommel of his sword where it projected through the waistband of his baggy coveralls. “Also, we’ve studied diagrams of the plant. We’ll be able to find our way about with no trouble at all.”
“And you’re wrong about the zombies, too,” Eldin added. “They can be stopped. It’s easy. You just behead ’em!”
“But—” started the taller of the two.
“No buts,” Chelos Smith cut him short. “This is the
only way. Just hope and pray that Hero and Eldin here—yes, and all of the other fighters we’ve chosen to do the job at the other plants—just pray they can pull it off. Personally, I’m sure they can. Apart from these two, we’ve employed the greatest swordsmen in all Serannian.”

You
are sure they can pull it off?” the engineers spoke as one man; and the smaller of the two continued: “You’re talking about the lives of
our
wives, daughters—”
“Man,” said Eldin gruffly, “we’re talking about the life of Serannian itself—or the death of Serannian if we fail! But we don’t intend to fail. While we’re gone the councillor will explain the whole thing.” He picked up the fallen bag of tools and stepped into the elevator’s cage. Hero took the second bag from unprotesting fingers and followed his burly friend. The two turned and slid the door shut. They stared out for a moment through the door’s metal lattice, then Hero pressed the down button.
As the elevator lurched and began to descend, Smith called, “Good luck, you two!”
They smiled grimly at his old face and Eldin answered: “Luck will have nothing to do with it.”
Sinking out of sight, Hero added: “See you all in half an hour.” Then the adventurers were alone and darkness filled the cage, and the square of light above them grew smaller as they fell toward the heart of Serannian.
 
At the bottom of the shaft two zombies waited, the cowls of their white but now stained robes thrown back to reveal heads from which black, dry flesh curled in strips to expose gleaming white bone beneath. The elevator worked on flotation essence and a gauge on the wall showed lowering pressure as the bottom of the
cage came into view. The zombies moved jerkily forward, swords in hands, their hideous faces peering through the metal lattice of the door as the cage bumped to a halt. Beyond that lattice, the “relief engineers” stood with their backs to the door.
One of the zombies rattled the cage’s door impatiently, then both of the dead men grasped at the external handles and yanked the door open. As they did so, the pair in the cage turned, stepped forth, swung their heavy bags of tools and released them in unison, then drew their hidden swords in a slither of whetted steel.
The zombies never knew what hit them. Knocked aside by the heavy bags of tools, they were allowed no time to recover. In a single moment their rotting heads were rolling and their twitching bodies toppling, and without pause the adventurers leapt for the door to the engine room. They threw the door open and hurled themselves through, taking in at a single glance the view that met their eyes.
Seated on the metal plating of the floor and roped to fat pipes that passed along the wall behind their backs, one matron, two younger women and a lovely girl, a mere child, huddled together. A zombie with a sword in his belt—arms akimbo, his cowl thrown back to reveal a face and neck alive with wriggling worms—stood guard over them. A second zombie kept watch over a pair of engineers where they worked, chained to the mountings of the great, throbbing engines. The third and last zombie was shepherding two more engineers toward the door—the very men Hero and Eldin had come to “relieve”—and in the center of the floor stood two medium-sized glass carboys of thick green gas, their stoppers firm in their necks.
For an instant the scene seemed frozen. Then as if time had been stopped briefly and restarted, everything
came back to life. Perhaps, because of the very nature of zombies, the latter cliché is redundant on this occasion; but if death itself can quicken, then such was the case. The zombies recognized Hero and Eldin as strangers and therefore as a threat; the hostages, clapping hands to mouths, were likewise astonished but for the opposite reason; the weary engineers on their way to the elevator dropped into shocked crouches, their jaws falling open.
Then the adventurers were moving into action. As they sprang forward the zombie guarding the hostages started to draw his sword and the one behind the crouching engineers shoved them stumbling into the path of the bearded avengers. Eldin was able to knock aside the man who blocked his way and leap toward the hostages, where already their monstrous guard was lifting his weapon to use it on the helpless females. Eldin, seeing that he had no time left, hurled his sword with such force that he threw himself off balance and went sliding full length across the floor. His straight sword, however, flew unerringly to its target and slammed into and through the zombie’s chest, lifting him from his feet and throwing him down.
Hero meanwhile had untangled himself from the still astounded engineers and was closing with their former guard. The latter, instead of attacking as he might well have done, had picked up one of the carboys. The jar was unstoppered now and its contents were about to be poured into an injection valve to one side of the throbbing engines. The third zombie had taken up the other carboy and was making for the door back toward the elevator. Hero’s decision was therefore instantaneous; he hurled himself madly at the monster who threatened the engines.
And without the assistance of the chained engineers,
certainly he would have been too late. But even as the green gas began to flow thickly from the mouth of the carboy, so one of the men swung his chains against that jar and shattered it, filling the room with clouds of green gas and flying splinters of glass. At the same time his partner closed the valve, thus blocking any chance of the gas being forced into the city’s flotation chambers.
By that time Eldin was upon the fallen zombie who had stood guard over the women. Avoiding the thrust of the downed creature’s sword, he somehow contrived to yank his own weapon from its chest and hack at its head, which with his second blow flew free and so put an end to that particular threat. Hero, too, was engaging in a little swordplay; for as the gas began to disperse in the engine room, so the zombie at the injection valve drew his sword and turned on his charges. The engineers were still chained to the engine mountings and could not run, but Hero was not about to see them harmed. His swordplay was dazzling as he engaged the zombie, disarmed and neatly beheaded him.
Then, as Eldin raced for the door to the elevator and Hero saw to the freeing of the chained engineers, so there came that sudden, sharp tilting of the floor which told that not all of Chelos Smith’s teams had been successful. At least one of the sky-island’s engine rooms had been put out of action. The engines throbbed more powerfully yet as they fought to compensate, and little warning shudders seemed to run across the metal-plated floor in answer to the now uneven distribution of stress.
Now the engineers were setting free their loved ones, working in an almost surreal atmosphere of mixed elation and nightmare dread, still unable to comprehend their good fortune and yet filled with horror at the realization
that indeed someone was intent upon seeing Serannian go crashing to its doom.
Then Eldin appeared in the doorway and his face was grim. “I got him,” he said, holding up his slimed sword, “but not before he tossed his damned bottle into the elevator shaft!”
“Does that mean the elevator is out of order?” Hero breathlessly questioned.

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