Authors: Brian Lumley
Ship of Dreams (11 page)
The Snufflers in Darkness
As the gaunt grew weaker so its glide became faster and steeper; and as they plunged into the nighted bowels of the mountain the adventurers began to discern a faint luminosity to the foul air. Rushing currents of reeking mist carried a gray phosphorescence that swirled, adhered and silhouetted in glowing motes the gaunt’s thin body.
The underworld was awesomely huge. High overhead, damp with glowing mist, an incredible ceiling of stalactites reached away into impossible distances; while below, needle-tipped spires marched in row upon endless row to indeterminate destinations.
“The Peaks of Throk,” said Eldin breathlessly. “The infamous tips of mountains whose roots, it’s said, go down to the pits at Earth’s very core!”
Hero said nothing but gazed downward in growing alarm as the Peaks of Throk seemed to sweep upward, until the gaunt was threading a complex flight-path between them which left little more than inches to spare. The peaks were so sheer, smooth and regular that they were more like gray pillars which reached up immense and ageless on all sides. And so swift the gaunt’s descent
that soon the needle peaks were lost in dimly glowing heights, while below the pillars seemed to go down and down to black infinity.
that soon the needle peaks were lost in dimly glowing heights, while below the pillars seemed to go down and down to black infinity.
Then, already dizzy with the endless blur of pillars as they flashed past and sick from the gaunt’s nightmare rush and swoop, the adventurers closed their eyes against howling winds which sprang up sudden and unexpected; and when next they looked they found their view obscured by ash and yellow smoke, while their lungs contracted to the sting of brimstone-laden air.
But at last the winds blew themselves out, the smoke cleared, and finally the dread Peaks of Throk receded into obscure distances. Now the flight of the gaunt had leveled out, but its wings beat ever more erratically and the adventurers feared that each passing second might be the last.
And finally the head of the rubbery beast sagged upon its sinuous neck as, with a feeble swoop and a twitching of wings, the dying creature sought the unseen terrain below. In another moment Hero felt his feet dragging through pebbles and dust, and before he could relinquish his hold upon the gaunt’s leg the stump of a stalagmite reared out of the darkness directly in his path.
With a blow that knocked that last ounce of wind right out of him, the stalagmite snatched Hero free of the gaunt’s paw and tumbled him head over heels in dust and stony debris. Senses spinning and bones aching, he lay for long moments in darkness and strove to clear his head of wheeling stars. Apart from a sick roaring in his brain and the hoarse sound of his own breathing, all was silent now—too silent.
“Eldin?” Hero called, the sound of his voice seeming to whimper away like a whipped dog into the dark.
“Eldin, are you all right?” And then, more urgently, more desperately: “Eldin—speak up, man!”
“Eldin, are you all right?” And then, more urgently, more desperately: “Eldin—speak up, man!”
Finally an outraged sputtering came from somewhere fairly close at hand. “Get this … double-damned … stinking heap of rubber …
off my legs!
Hero, where in hell are you?”
off my legs!
Hero, where in hell are you?”
“That’s right!” Hero gulped his answer.
“Eh?”
“I’m in hell, or near as damn!”
“Get yourself over here,” Eldin snarled. “Follow my voice. My legs are stuck under this filthy great carcass.”
“Is he dead?”
“Well, if he isn’t he’s picked a funny place to go to sleep!”
“So what’s the hurry?” Hero asked. “Surely we’ll do well to save our strength, take things nice and slow and easy. I mean, there doesn’t seem much point in rushing about down here.” He made his way gropingly forward over stony, pebble-strewn ground until he found the gaunt’s great body where it sprawled half on top of Eldin.
“Listen,” said Eldin, grabbing Hero’s arm, “just help me get free—and keep it quiet.” The young man sensed his friend’s fear, and Eldin afraid was an extremely rare thing.
“What is it?” Hero whispered, his scalp prickling. “What’s troubling you?”
“I … I thought I heard something,” Eldin answered. “And in this place—if we’re where I think we are—that’s not good.”
“Where you think we are?” said Hero. “But we know where we are, surely. We’re in the underworld.” He strained to ease the weight of rubbery flesh from his friend’s legs.
“We’re in a certain region of the underworld, yes,”
answered Eldin, dragging himself free. “The Vale of Pnoth, if I’m not mistaken.”
answered Eldin, dragging himself free. “The Vale of Pnoth, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Pnoth?” Hero quietly shaped the word in his mind as well as with his mouth. He discovered that it left and unpleasant taste in both. “I believe I’ve heard of … Pnoth.”
Eldin stopped rubbing at his cramped legs and again gripped the other’s elbow, harder this time. “Look!” he hissed. “Did you see that?” And certainly Hero had seen or sensed something. A movement in the darkness—a peculiar, furtive humping of black shadows—a subtle alteration in the texture of the timeless night which surrounded them.
Or perhaps it was his imagination. For Eldin’s remark about this place being the Vale of Pnoth had stirred both memory and imagination in Hero; and while the first was merely unpleasant, the second was positively frightening. He had remembered a fragment of information picked up somewhere long ago and almost forgotten; namely that the Vale of Pnoth was the home of strange and sinister dholes, though what a dhole was exactly he never had reason to inquire. He had heard, though, that they spent a considerable amount of time heaping bones; also that they neither greatly loved nor were beloved of men. Pnoth—dholes—imagination—
Nightmare!
Backing away from the body of the gaunt, their elbows touching and their hair prickling to its very roots, all sorts of monstrous notions rushed screaming through the minds of the adventurers. And as if to confirm Hero’s worst suspicions, Eldin hoarsely whispered in his ear, “Dhole! … If he’s scented us, we’re done for.”
“Scented us? Damn me, Eldin, even when you whisper you sound like an earthquake! Man, he’ll
hear
us!”
hear
us!”
“No,” Eldin answered with an unseen shake of his
head, “dholes are deaf—I think. Never hear the expression ‘deaf as a dhole’? Blind too—but they do have a wonderful sense of smell.”
head, “dholes are deaf—I think. Never hear the expression ‘deaf as a dhole’? Blind too—but they do have a wonderful sense of smell.”
Still backing carefully away from the gaunt, swords in their hands and senses straining, suddenly the two were riveted to the spot by a sound which could only be likened to a noisy sort of snuffling; as if some vast bloodhound were slobbering and sniffing in the darkness. Then, as the sound stopped for a moment, there came in its place a sliding of pebbles—a brushing aside, as it were, of stony litter—and again the inky blackness seemed to stir and rustle and take on dim and frightful shapes.
The snuffling came again—closer, more decisive—and with it a return of mobility in the momentarily rigid limbs of the adventurers. More quickly now they backed away, careless of what might lie behind them; until, in another second, they stumbled, tripped and fell amidst a loosely piled heap of—
“Bones!”
shuddered Hero, gingerly feeling of the ossuary fragments upon which he and Eldin lay.
shuddered Hero, gingerly feeling of the ossuary fragments upon which he and Eldin lay.
“Pnoth!” Eldin nodded his affirmation in the dark. “I was right. And our unseen friend there—definitely a dhole.”
Even as they lay there the snuffling and slithering continued, growing louder by the second, until Hero could stand it no longer. “The hell with this!” he cried, jumping to his feet. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
“Wait,” said Eldin, grabbing his arm. “Just a second. There’s something I want to know. He should have just about found the gaunt’s body by now …”
“Oh, come
on
!” hissed Hero. “What can you possibly want to know about—”
on
!” hissed Hero. “What can you possibly want to know about—”
“Shh!—Listen!—There, what do you make of … of …” Eldin’s whisper trailed off, and listening to this new sound, Hero could well understand why.
The snuffling had increased to a sort of frenzied slobbering interspersed with sharp tearing sounds; and now, from afar and from all directions, there came a veritable chorus of minor grunts and snuffles of inquiry. Even as the pair listened, their ears straining to pick up every slightest nuance of the drama being enacted in the darkness, the tearing and slobbering abruptly stopped and was replaced by the loathsome sounds of bestial feeding; then this too ceased and there came a weird, mournful cry as of some strange nocturnal bird.
Answering, excited cries came echoing back, at which Eldin grabbed Hero’s arm and said: “Now let’s get out of here. The gaunt was a big one. Its carcass ought to keep them busy for quite some time.” And Hero felt his friend shudder in the darkness.
As they slipped quietly away from that dreadful feasting place, they noticed that their eyes had become marginally accustomed to the dark. Not to any great degree, for the darkness of dreamland’s underworld is black as any of the deepest caves of the waking world, but the surfaces of things seemed to carry minute traces of phosphorescence. Thus it was as if they moved across a terrain of black velvet streaked here and there with dim wisps of gray, and at regular intervals they would come across piles of bones whose individual shapes and hugeness set them—mercifully—aside from any possible human connection.
Direction gave them the greatest problem, for they simply could not be certain of their course, or even if they moved in a straight line at all. In a little while, however, the sounds of feasting died away behind them, and soon after that they came to the foot of a sheer cliff whose crags reached up into dimly luminous mists and vanished from sight.
For what seemed like hours then they followed the
undulating base of the cliff; and as they went so they talked in hushed, rather forlorn tones. Though they would never have admitted it, neither one of them had the slightest idea how this thing would work out, and both were aware of their growing hunger and thirst. It was only when they paused to rest for a few minutes and seated themselves upon black, unseen boulders that the monstrous morbidity of their situation seemed to settle over them like some clammy, ethereal cloak.
undulating base of the cliff; and as they went so they talked in hushed, rather forlorn tones. Though they would never have admitted it, neither one of them had the slightest idea how this thing would work out, and both were aware of their growing hunger and thirst. It was only when they paused to rest for a few minutes and seated themselves upon black, unseen boulders that the monstrous morbidity of their situation seemed to settle over them like some clammy, ethereal cloak.
Then it was, too, that they discovered something of the persistence of dholes. For as they sat in silence so there came the first faint fumblings and rustlings from far back along their trail, and they knew that indeed the dholes had finished with the gaunt and now sought sweeter meat!
It was only with the greatest restraint that the pair held back from full-scale flight at that point. For even knowing that to panic would be to court disaster, still adrenalin filled their veins and power surged in their limbs; and near-irresistible urges bade them throw caution to the wind and flee … but flee where?
They did increase their pace, however, and for a while the sounds of pursuit grew fainter; but then—horror of horrors—secondary rustlings and snufflings began to reach them from their flank. Not only were there dholes behind them, but a second party was closing in from the plain of bones. Again they increased their pace and after half an hour or so reached a point where the cliffs turned sharply inward, as if this were some ancient subterranean coastline and they were entering a dried-out, prehistoric bay.
It was as they paused here at the corner of the cliffs and rested, desperately fighting to control their breathing and their tired, trembling limbs, that snuffling came yet again, and this time closer than ever. Moreover, the
adventurers could no longer tell for certain just which direction the sounds came from. Still closer the dreadful night-noises came, and the pair remembered all too vividly the tearing and terrible gluttony which had accompanied the first dhole’s discovery of the dead gaunt.
adventurers could no longer tell for certain just which direction the sounds came from. Still closer the dreadful night-noises came, and the pair remembered all too vividly the tearing and terrible gluttony which had accompanied the first dhole’s discovery of the dead gaunt.
That memory was more than they could bear, and so they turned the corner of the cliff and sought safety in the bight of the rocky bay. With luck, they might even discover a slope they could climb to the top of the cliffs, and thus leave the dholes behind them in the Vale of Pnoth. Or if worse came to worst, perhaps they could find themselves some vantage point to defend to their last.
Now, because the death-fires were a little brighter here, the adventurers could see that indeed they had entered a great bay where in ages past the cliffs had fallen or been eroded away. The bed of the bay was littered with vast boulders and rocks, all of them dully aglow with that strange foxfire, so that it seemed to the pair that they ran across an alien moonscape. Behind them, echoing weirdly, they had started to hear the excited, nocturnal-bird sound of the hunting dholes, who must sense now that the chase was nearing its end. And when they dared to look back they could see great, undulating shapes across a wide arc of vision, humping and wriggling and forming a constantly changing horizon.
Then, rounding a massive boulder as large as a house, the two were brought up short at sight of something directly ahead. At the base of the cliffs where they loomed across some four hundred yards of comparatively debris-free plain, the mouth of a tiny cave emitted a beam of dim light which shone like a beacon to the tired and unbelieving eyes of the adventurers. There was a warmth to that dull glow, a reminder of lanthorns
and campfires and other healthy lights in the upper world, and its lure drew the pair like moths to a flame.
and campfires and other healthy lights in the upper world, and its lure drew the pair like moths to a flame.
Behind them and on both sides as they ran, the loathsome rustling, snuffling and hunting cries of the dholes rang louder by the second, and all of the darkness seemed alive with the unseen, unknown horrors as they closed in. Then the pair were pounding forward beneath the beetling cliffs, and the glowing cave mouth beckoned them on, and the shadows of the cliffs were alive with morbid movement, until with exhausted cries of gladness—yes, and of strange expectation too, for they knew not what they would find—they hurled themselves into the narrow mouth of the glowing cave and turned to face the terror which crowded upon them from outside.
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