Authors: Brian Lumley
Ship of Dreams (13 page)
Escape from the Underworld
The trip through the underworld was fantastic for many reasons. Fantastic for the way in which it was achieved—upon the segmented, furry back of the running thing, which in motion felt like a cross between a rhumba and, especially on inclines, a roller coaster—fantastic also for the weird, otherworldly scenery it offered, and particularly fantastic for the speed with which it was accomplished.
As a prelude there had been three or four sleep periods, many hours of song, a lot of talking to the creature, even the unexpected spectacle of the running thing “ravaging” amongst a half-dozen dholes which encroached too close upon the confines of its cave, and finally its growing restlessness as it felt the pull of unknown wanderings in the labyrinthine underworld. And through every waking hour, over and over again, Mathur had talked to the creature, repeatedly explaining the requirement of the adventurers, that the great multi-pede convey them to a region from which they might make their way back to the world above.
And at last the pair had said their farewells to Mathur—making him their promise that they would not
rest until he was free of Thinistor’s spell and out of his prison—before climbing up onto the trembling back of the gigantic, music-loving, subterranean crustacean which their host had named the running thing. Then, with a breathtaking rush and a start they were off; and for all that they had known many previous adventures in the land of Earth’s dreams, this was perhaps the strangest.
rest until he was free of Thinistor’s spell and out of his prison—before climbing up onto the trembling back of the gigantic, music-loving, subterranean crustacean which their host had named the running thing. Then, with a breathtaking rush and a start they were off; and for all that they had known many previous adventures in the land of Earth’s dreams, this was perhaps the strangest.
Hanging on grimly to the running thing’s carapace where they lay upon its slightly curving, deep-fur covered back, the pair were not sorry when they cleared the Vale of Pnoth and entered a region of mighty stalactites. The underworld’s ceiling was low here, mere hundreds of feet over their heads, and many of its great smooth stalactites met with stalagmites thrusting up from the floor to form tremendous columns.
Between these vast, natural supports, here and there, deep black pools of water made ebon mirrors of utterly glassy aspect. From one such pool, as the running thing darted by, a lashing tentacle erupted in a spray of inky water—but lashed in vain for the many-legged mount of the adventurers had already passed beyond its reach. This happened several times before the ceiling reared away out of sight once more and the pillars faded into the dim distances behind them.
Then they reached the shore of what appeared to be a great lake of pitch, onto the edge of which the running thing ran very briefly before returning at once to the sandy shore. There he scurried about in the sand until his many feet, covered with pitch, picked up a good deal of sand. The adventurers upon his back saw the reason for this peculiar seeming industry when, with a sudden rush that came close to unseating them, their weird mount shot out onto the surface of the lake and proceeded to run across it! With its feet encased in
sandy boots, the creature had traction, and so marvelous its agility and so great its speed that its dusty feet were given no slightest opportunity to sink into the pitch.
sandy boots, the creature had traction, and so marvelous its agility and so great its speed that its dusty feet were given no slightest opportunity to sink into the pitch.
As they crossed the lake Eldin remarked: “I do believe that this must be the Stickistuff Sea.”
“Never heard of it,” answered Hero, morbidly wondering what would happen if the running thing were suddenly to stop or trip.
“Of course you have,” Eldin snorted. “Have you never dreamed that you ran in molasses, and however fast you ran you couldn’t escape your nightmare pursuers? Myself, I remember many such dreams. Well, they all have their origin right here, in the black and horrible Stickistuff Sea.”
“I believe you,” said Hero in a very small voice, which caused Eldin to inquire:
“Eh? Something wrong, lad?”
“You could say that,” Hero answered. “Don’t look now but—you remember the nightmares that used to pursue you in those dreams of yours? Well, I do believe—”
But Eldin had already turned his head to look back.
And certainly this was the stuff of nightmares, for rising up in the lake behind them spidery, oily shapes sped in hot pursuit like black, alien skaters with eyes of glowing red. There were dozens of them, squelching up from the pitch like man-sized, six-legged skeletons that dripped oil even as they shot after the running thing in fiery-eyed hate and with fearful intent. And as these hideous pursuers gained on them, so the pair began to feel the now uneven beat of their mount’s great heart and heard its ragged, sobbing breathing. Its feet sank ever deeper into the pitch and its speed slackened off by the second.
Then, putting on a burst of speed, the two closest
pursuers leapt for the running thing’s rear and scrambled aboard. Hero and Eldin, swords glinting, met the lightning attack of the grinning pitch-things as only they could, sending twin heaps of lifeless, tangled sinew and bone flying into the path of the rest of the pack. This gave the running thing a brief respite, but in no time at all the pursuing horrors were right behind them once more.
pursuers leapt for the running thing’s rear and scrambled aboard. Hero and Eldin, swords glinting, met the lightning attack of the grinning pitch-things as only they could, sending twin heaps of lifeless, tangled sinew and bone flying into the path of the rest of the pack. This gave the running thing a brief respite, but in no time at all the pursuing horrors were right behind them once more.
Now, some two hundred yards ahead, they could make out a dim shore whose reflection formed a glassy image at the edge’ of the Stickistuff Sea. But more and more the running thing was tiring; its breathing came harsher and its sides heaved with exertion. The slapping sounds of its feet were individually audible as they moved more slowly yet, almost completely clogged with oil and pitch.
Again a pair of nightmare spiders leaped, and again they fell in tattered disorder. Then four more—all red eyes, black bones and yellow fangs—and the swords of the adventurers flickered like wands, glinting dully as they performed almost magically in the practiced hands of their masters.
Then, with a sickening lurch, the running thing skidded to a halt and toppled forward, its segmented body rising up like a whip to hurt the adventurers headlong … onto dry sand!
And now, in the shallow pitch at the lake’s edge, the running thing turned upon its attackers in a fury, like a terrier at a rat pack. In a matter of seconds ten of the nightmare creatures lay in tatters while the rest fled in a rout, frenziedly skating back out into the Stickistuff Sea and sinking bubblingly from sight in black and glutinous depths.
In a very short while all was silence once more and the adventurers climbed to their feet and dusted themselves
down. As for the running thing; he very soon recovered and proceeded to shake himself like some strange and gigantic hound, until every trace of oil, sand and pitch was sent flying from his fur; and after a brief pause, once more the pair mounted.
down. As for the running thing; he very soon recovered and proceeded to shake himself like some strange and gigantic hound, until every trace of oil, sand and pitch was sent flying from his fur; and after a brief pause, once more the pair mounted.
But now their mount was far more at ease, as if it knew that no dangers lurked in this region, and its pace was much slower as it picked a zig-zag path across a vast and boulder-strewn plain. For several hours they crossed the plain, until finally they spied a dim horizon of black cliffs. The cliffs soared up for thousands of feet into luminous, opaque and misty heights; and there, where the rocky plain met the foot of the black cliffs, the running thing paused and sank down to let them climb from its back.
With its strange snout it pushed them toward grotesquely carved ruins where they loomed tall in the overhang of the cliff, and then it turned and without a backward glance scurried away. The glow of the lightmoss which adorned its sides gradually dimmed as it sped back across the plain, presently to become the merest, flickering will-o’-the-wisp.
Hero and Eldin watched it out of sight, then turned to an examination of the deserted, prehistoric piles which stood mute testimony of some primal, subterranean civilization. There was that about the ruins which soon set the pair to staring about in something other than mere curiosity; for the place was like nothing so much as a complex of titanic tombstones and mighty mausoleums, as if they walked through some ante-diluvian graveyard of the gods.
In a little while, however, as they grew aware of the utter desolation of the place—its stark antiquity, which had known no intelligent inhabitants for many thousands of years—then their apprehension evaporated and
they began to wonder why the running thing had deserted them here. It had actually pushed them in the direction of this centuries-dead city, as if telling them that this was what they sought; but what they really sought was a way back to the world of fields and sunshine and bright skies above.
they began to wonder why the running thing had deserted them here. It had actually pushed them in the direction of this centuries-dead city, as if telling them that this was what they sought; but what they really sought was a way back to the world of fields and sunshine and bright skies above.
“It looks like the running thing didn’t understand Mathur Imniss after all,” said Eldin presently. Hero grunted an inarticulate answer and pushed on through tumbled ruins to where a great cave gloomed in the face of the cliff. While Eldin sat down on a rock and contemplated the silence and desolation of the place, Hero went exploring on his own; and in a short while, echoing down to the older adventurer where he sat, Hero’s cry of excitement brought him to his feet in an instant:
“Eldin, I think I’ve found it—the way to the outside world!”
“You’ve what?” cried the other. “Wait for me!” And he set off at a run, following Hero’s footprints in the dust to the great and gloomy cave. He soon found the younger man crouching in the depths of the cavern, his face turned upward and lined with a frown of concentration. Even as Eldin puffed and panted and recovered his breath, he saw a smile spread slowly over his colleague’s face.
“What is it, lad?” Eldin asked, casting about in the gloom with his eyes but seeing nothing. “I can’t see a damned thing. What are you grinning at?”
“You’re not supposed to see anything,” answered Hero. “You’re supposed to feel it. The breeze, Eldin, the breeze on your face!”
And now the Wanderer could indeed feel that breeze, a steadily gusting wind from some higher level; and giving a whoop he took out his firestones, tore a scrap
from his already ragged jacket and struck sparks which soon turned to bright flame. The light lasted for a moment only, then died with the flame in a gust which overwhelmed both; but before that flame died the adventurers saw the stone stairs and the upward-leading tunnel whence blew that wonderful wind from more accustomed climes.
from his already ragged jacket and struck sparks which soon turned to bright flame. The light lasted for a moment only, then died with the flame in a gust which overwhelmed both; but before that flame died the adventurers saw the stone stairs and the upward-leading tunnel whence blew that wonderful wind from more accustomed climes.
Now they eagerly scrambled forward and upward, entering the steep, rock-hewn tunnel and climbing its tight whorl of centuried steps. The only illumination was a sort of dim phosphorescence which sprang from the corkscrew walls, which were featureless except for the marks and gouges of ancient workmen. Up and up they went, and after a great deal of climbing thought to begin counting the steps.
At seven thousand Eldin sat down and started to swear and Hero followed suit. The echoes of their weary cursing came back to them over and over, gradually diminishing until they sat in silence. Then, when they had their breath back, Eldin was prompted to inquire: “Who the devil could have built such a staircase?”
“Possibly,” answered Hero darkly.
Ignoring his friend’s morbid turn of mind, Eldin said: “But I’m bone weary! Don’t tell me we’re going to have to rest on these damned steps—perhaps even sleep here—before we’re to reach the surface?”
“
If
we’re to reach the surface,” answered Hero ominously.
If
we’re to reach the surface,” answered Hero ominously.
“Damn me, but you’re a real ray of sunshine, you are!” Eldin snarled.
In a fine temper of his own, Hero turned on him. “Save your breath!” he snapped. “You’re going to need it. I’m not sleeping till I reach the surface, and then not until I find a safe spot to lay my head. Man, have you
no fear for what might be lurking here in this great well of a staircase? I’m damned if I’ll stay here when there are green fields somewhere up ahead. Now come on, let’s get a move on.”
no fear for what might be lurking here in this great well of a staircase? I’m damned if I’ll stay here when there are green fields somewhere up ahead. Now come on, let’s get a move on.”
For a further hour they climbed, more slowly now, tiring rapidly, and as they went so the phosphorescence faded from the walls to leave them groping upward in inky blackness. Since by now their eyes were fairly well accustomed to gloom and darkness, and since there was nothing to do but proceed up and around the tightly spiraling stairs, Eldin refrained from burning anymore of his sadly depleted jacket and simply followed in Hero’s footsteps. He did have one panted observation to make, however, namely:
“S’funny, lad, but this is the first time I’ve known it to get darker the closer we get to daylight!”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Hero wearily answered. “Of course, it might be night up there.” A moment later, he added: “
Owp!
”
Owp!
”
“Owp?” repeated Eldin, stumbling upon him from behind. “What’s up?”
“We are, I reckon,” came Hero’s voice in the darkness. “But there’s a lid on this damned hole and I’ve just cracked my head on it. Here, come up alongside me.”
Eldin squeezed his bulk up beside Hero and gingerly felt above his head until his fingers found the stone door or plug which covered or filled the stairwell. He gave it a tentative shove but was answered with total resistance. Whatever it was that blocked the way, it was solid and heavy. “We need a light,” Eldin grunted, and a moment later there came a tearing sound, the scrape of firestones, sparks and a small crackle of flame. Above their heads, illumined in the flare of yellow
light, a flat, solid slab showed its gray underside. But it was a slab, not a plug, and the pair sighed their relief in unison. At least they stood a chance.
light, a flat, solid slab showed its gray underside. But it was a slab, not a plug, and the pair sighed their relief in unison. At least they stood a chance.
Now, as the darkness returned, they bent their heads, put their backs to the slab and heaved. It gave a little, the merest fraction, then settled back. Sweat rained from the pair as they strained again; and again the slab moved, only to fall back firmly into place when they could no longer take its weight.
Hero stooped and found a rounded pebble. “Again,” he said; and once more they strained and heaved. This time, as the slab lifted its customary half inch, Hero pushed the pebble into the gap. “Now we find a bigger pebble,” he panted, “and so on.” Except there were no more pebbles and they could not recall passing any on the way up.
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