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Authors: Brian Lumley

BOOK: Mad Moon of Dreams
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Eeril nodded. “More by good luck than anything else,” he
modestly stated. “I snatched a knife from the belt of one of them, and before they knew what was happening I had managed to stab them both. Then, when I would have switched on the dome, I suddenly found myself weightless and floating toward an open window. Outside the glare was awful and a hideous sound filled the night. I felt half-hypnotised—weak from loss of blood and yet filled with an awful fascination—but as I floated over the machinery I stretched down my hand and at last switched on the dome's power. Then I fell, and—”
“And knew no more until you were found sprawled in your own blood,” Arra Coppos finished it for him. The old counsellor turned to Hero and company. “The ray-gunners had been similarly affected by the mad moonbeam, but when the dome came on they were released from the trance and immediately began to fire their weapons. The rest you know …”
“Man,” said Eldin to Eeril Tu, “you should be abed.” He laid a massive hand gently on Eeril's good shoulder. “Aye, and a hero's bed at that. Ilek-Vad must care well for you. Well indeed, for without you the city was surely dead this night!”
Black Ship of Leng
Through the rest of that night—what little remained of it when the adventurers finally got to bed—they slept a sleep of utter exhaustion in which there was no room at all for dreams within dreams. Up at dawn's first light, they were aboard
Gnorri II
and gone from Ilek-Vad before the city's less exotic citizens were even out of their beds. Westward they headed, out through the invisible force-screen and across the desert and scrublands.
They left behind the three ships sent by Kuranes of Serannian, which had arrived during the night and were now provisioning, and three others of King Carter's fleet which were ready to sail but not required immediately. Limnar had spoken to the commanders of the latter trio, asking that they remain in Ilek-Vad until the newcomers were fully provisioned and rested; then that they lead them out over the desert to an aerial rendezvous in the west. By then
Gnorri II
should have had time to locate and deal with the Lengite party, and from then on the course and actions of the sky-flotilla would be governed by whatever the leaders of the expedition had learned from those treacherous horned ones.
Back in a palace tower, Arra Coppos and several others of Ilek-Vad's dignitaries watched the ship until it was gone from sight, then turned to those tasks which must now commence to ensure the safety of the rest of dreamland's peoples. For
word must be sent to all of dreamland's cities, towns and hamlets warning of the peril in so-called “Leng gold,” of the dangers inherent in any sort of trading with the horned ones, and of Zura's, Thalarion's and Isharra's complicity in the moon-doom now threatening these lands of Earth's dreams.
The first step would be to get a message to Ulthar, for then the messenger-pigeons of the Temple of the Elder Ones would make light work of the rest of the task. And once word of the terror began to spread, then the work would gain momentum, accelerate, until all regions near and far would know and take steps to combat the danger.
As for Hero, Eldin, Limnar and Gytherik; their task was equally immediate, and they pursued it with an urgency apparent in the way
Gnorri II
forged westward under full sail. And as they sailed, so the adventurers exchanged stories of all that had passed since last they were all together. When it was the gaunt-master's turn he shrugged, pulled a wry face, then set about to explain why the months between had been for him less than happy ones.
“As you know,” (he said) “I used the egg of a Shantak-bird to break the spell which kept my father, Mathur Imniss, in the underworld cave where Thinistor Udd had prisoned him. Then I flew him home, back to Nir, where my mother was waiting. Of course, their reunion was wonderful and the first month was sheer bliss for all of us. I had not realized how much our adventures had wearied me, and now I could simply relax and take things easy. But—
“I had to look after my gaunts. Now, you'd think night-gaunts would be simple creatures to tend, wouldn't you?” He shook his head. “Not so. They don't like too much daylight—not any, in fact, though they'll work in sunlight for me—and Nir is a particularly bright spot. They prefer to sleep in caves, of which Nir is particularly lacking; and worst of all they like to fly by moonlight (normal moonlight, that is) and the people of Nir didn't much care for that. Gaunts have a very bad rep, as you probably know …
“So what with cooping them up in a stable, and them
frightening the yaks—and their moonlight excursions frightening the townspeople—and the Town Elders forbidding me to ride with them (which they said was unhealthy and unnatural and a bad example for the village children …) well—”
“Pretty miserable, eh?” Limnar commiserated.
Gytherik nodded. “Just so. Miserable for me and worse for my gaunts. Listen, I want to tell you something. Would you believe, I actually think I
like
my gaunts?”
Hero frowned. “Oh, I wouldn't go so far—but I can't deny they've been damn useful creatures in their way.”
Again Gytherik nodded. “Anyway, it got so bad for them they really began to suffer. They grew even thinner; their bodies lost all their horrid
feel
and became almost dry and bearable; it was awful! I had the gauntest gaunts in all the dreamlands, I'm sure. And when word got out that a gaunt-master dwelled with his grim in Nir … why, people flocked to see us! We were like freaks, my gaunts and I.”
“Pretty grim,” Eldin said, with never a trace of humour.
“I don't think I could have taken much more of it,” Gytherik went on. “I planned to return to the mountains, perhaps to Thinistor's complex of caves. I could study magic there, become a sorcerer—a white one, of course—and generally make something of myself. It seemed to me suddenly that something was missing from my life, and finally it dawned on me what it was.”
“Adventure!” said Hero with conviction. “Eldin and I are just the same when things are too quiet for too long. You've got the bug, Gytherik. Once a quester, always a quester. You're stuck with it, lad.”
“You're right,” the youth answered. “So you can imagine how delighted I was when King Carter's letter reached me—particularly when I learned I was to be in league again with you lot …”
Hero turned to Eldin and grinned. “Funny how
Homo ephemerans
grows more like
sapiens
with continued contact, eh, old lad?”
“It's a two-edged sword,” Eldin answered. “I seem to remember
my old mother warning me that I should stop being a dreamer or else the day might come when I couldn't wake up. Seems she was right.”
“Curious, that,” said Hero.
Eldin was pleased. “You think so?”
“Yes. I've never thought of you as having a mother.”
Before Eldin could muster a sufficiently blistering answer, a lookout at the rail called out: “We're there, Cap'n Dass. This is where we spotted those Lengites yesterday on our way into Ilek-Vad. You can still see the remains of their camp in and about the oasis.”
The four got to their feet around the small table Limnar had had set central on the bridge. “Time to bring on your gaunts, Gytherik,” the sky-Captain said. “Let's see how they perform as bloodhounds!”
The gaunt-master went down onto the deck, threw back the covers of a large hatch and called out two of his gaunts. Sniffer and Biffer, he called them, two of the smaller gaunts with certain individual peculiarities of their own. Sniffer could follow scents and trails with deadly accuracy (though how this was accomplished with neither nose nor eyes was hard to say!) and Biffer was endowed with a completely uncharacteristic aggressiveness. Hence Sniffer would track the almost-humans while Biffer flew overhead on the lookout for ambushers and such.
Up onto the deck the two waddled and flopped in their gaunt fashion, uncomfortable in the rays of the morning sun but eager to please their human (at least dream-human) master. He spoke to them, in no language
Gnorri'
s crew could hope to understand, and they shortly flapped overboard, and circled down to the desert floor. At the oasis Sniffer quickly picked up the scent of the horned ones, at which Biffer soared aloft, higher even than
Gnorri II,
to scan ahead with aggressively out-stretched neck.
Soon Sniffer was flapping north-westward, ten feet or so above the sand and scrub, and
Gnorri II
changed course to follow the speeding gaunt. Hours passed in this fashion, with
gaunts and ship following a more or less straight course, and the day gradually grew toward noon. The sun was high and hot and Gytherik began to worry about the welfare of his gaunts. The rest of the grim was safe and cool below decks in the cargo hold, but Sniffer and Biffer were starting to suffer from the sun's bright rays.
Just as the gaunt-master decided to call back his pets, Biffer began a frantic swooping and circling overhead, motions which were interspersed with a deliberate and very aggressive pointing forward. At that very moment, as Gytherik whistled the pair back to the ship, the reason for Biffer's agitation came into view: a squat black galley rising from behind low hills some miles to the north-west.
“A Leng ship!” cried Limnar. “Fat, black and ugly! She must have picked up our quarry.”
“Aye,” Hero nodded, “and see how she rides so heavy? Her cargo is gold, I'll give you odds! Leng gold—moon gold! That's where your King Carter caricature came from. Well, we can't just let her run. There are Lengites aboard with answers to our questions. It's battle stations, Limnar—but whatever happens we have to take at least one of the almost-humans alive!”
“Ahoy, crew!” the sky-Captain called down to his men. “Get me within hailing distance of yon black galley. We talk before we attack—and then perhaps we'll not
need
to attack. But it's battle stations anyway, just to be on the safe side. Right—let's go!” And he clapped his hands sharply.
There followed a flurry of activity. The crew prepared for aerial action; Gytherik brought out the rest of his grim onto the deck, where they clustered in the shade of the sails; Hero and Eldin donned swordbelts, swords and other small arms, and
Gnorri II
sank down to the level of the Leng ship and cautiously approached. Within hailing range at last, Limnar put hailer to lips and called:
“Ahoy there, ship of Leng. This is Captain Limnar Dass speaking. Admiral Dass of Kuranes' sky-fleet. I know your purpose here and my crew is at battle stations. Make no false
move but oblige me by descending to the desert whence you came. We will follow you down.”
After a slight pause, back came an answer in the guttural accents of Leng. “Ahoy, Dass of Serannian. This is free airspace. Your actions border on piracy. Leave us in peace and begone!”
“Begone?” Limnar sputtered, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Begone?” He returned his lips to the hailer and roared, “Listen, you lippy Lengite! Land on the desert at once, or by all that's holy I'll—”
A puff of smoke erupted from a cannon's muzzle where it projected from one of the black galley's ports. More puffs followed suit, all along the side of the black ship. An instant later there came the roar of the cannonade, and at the same time
Gnorri II
shuddered as she was hit by two or three of the balls. Part of the stern rail shattered and leaped skyward where a fourth shot struck home.
“Conventional cannon!” roared Eldin, reeling at the rail as the ship rocked.
“Theirs may be,” raged Limnar, “but mine are not!” And to the gunners he roared:
“Return fire!”
Gnorri's
cannon opened up on the instant, their balls chewing gaping holes in the black galley's substructure. And out from these holes poured a swirling green gas, a vapor which every man aboard
Gnorri II
remembered from the war against Zura. For this was that gas which neutralized a skyship's flotation essence, denying her aerial buoyancy.
Gnorri II
's cannon balls were filled with the stuff under pressure; they were designed to fragment within a ship's hull, rupturing the enemy's flotation bags and destroying her essence.
More shots found their mark, until the black ship staggered from their impact. Her hull was now full of green gas, and such was its efficacy that already she was listing badly to port. She fired back, but lying at an angle as she was her gunners were faced with an impossible task. Their shots whistled harmlessly overhead.
“She's going!” Limnar yelled. “One more volley, now …
fire
!” And again the black ship shuddered as fresh holes appeared in her flank. Then, suddenly, her stern dipped steeply and she began to spiral down out of the sky. Members of her almost-human crew could be seen sliding down the tilting decks and falling like ants from the rigging. Her altitude was not great, however, and her spiralling descent more a glide than a fall proper. In less than a minute her twisting mass struck the desert in an explosion of planks and a snapping of masts, and the screams of her crew could plainly be heard echoing up on the desert's thermals.
Then, as
Gnorri II
began her own far more leisurely descent, scuttling figures could be seen running (and some limping) from the wreck of the Leng ship and hurrying off into the desert to hide. Seeing these refugees of the wreck, Gytherik turned to
Gnorri
's captain.
“Hold it, Limnar,” he said. “No need to go any lower than this. Sniffer here can seek out a couple of horned ones for us, and the rest of the grim can bring 'em back alive for questioning.” He went to the gaunts, grunted and gestured, and in another moment the grim was airborne and falling like a flock of leathery vultures to the floor of the desert. There Sniffer did his work with dispatch, and in a very short time a pair of struggling, fearful almost-humans were deposited none too gently on
Gnorri II's
deck.
“It's question and answer time,” Eldin growled low in his throat. “And if no one objects, I think I'll ask the questions!”

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