Ship of Dreams

by Brian Lumley

  As he finished speaking, exhausted by the effort, the guardsman’s head fell back and his eyes closed. His chest rose and fell in the steady rhythm of sleep. Hero stood up and stared at Gytherik and Eldin. The faces of all three were pale in the unnatural quiet of the place. Then Limnar Dass arrived with a relief squad of pike-bearing guardsmen.

  “I met these lads marching down the road,” he said. “They’ve come to relieve the night watch. It’s my guess, however, that they’ll have precious little to guard. Am I right?”

  Hero nodded, then went on to relate the unconscious soldier’s story. As he finished, the Officer of the Watch sprang to attention. “Right!” snapped that young man, a Lieutenant of Serannian’s 3rd Company of Pikes. “The way I see it the King’s been taken hostage. Very well—you, you and you,” he picked out three of the men in his command. “Off you go, at the double, and get word to the authorities in the city. They’ll know what to do. House to house searches and so on.” As the three chosen men hurried off to carry out their orders, the lieutenant turned to Limnar and saluted. “Is there anything else I can do, sir?” he inquired.

  “You can secure the manor house and grounds,” said Dass, “and revive these comrades of yours, if that’s at all possible right now. Perhaps one of them knows more about what happened here. For the time being we’ll be making this place our headquarters, until we’ve worked out what we’re going to do.”

  “One other thing,” said Hero. “Let the City Councilors know we’re back. They may have already been informed, but it’s very important that we see them as soon as possible. We’ve brought news of Zura. There’s a black armada on its way here right now, with Zura herself in command.”

  “Aye,” Eldin gruffly added. “She’s on her way all right. Coming to watch Serannian go crashing to her doom!”

  Hero turned to his burly friend with a frown. “Eh, what’s that? Surely she’s coming to bring about the crash, not merely to watch it.”

  Eldin slowly shook his head. “No,” he said, “I don’t think so. She’s coming purely as a spectator …”

  As the guardsmen dispersed to their various duties, Hero took Eldin aside. Gytherik and Limnar followed in time to hear Hero’s question: “What’s on your mind, old lad? Something I’ve missed?”

  “Something we’ve all missed,” growled Eldin by way of reply. “Well, not missed, exactly. It’s just that things have happened so fast we haven’t had time to get it all together yet, that’s all.”

  Hero and Gytherik continued to look blank, but Limnar snapped his fingers and said: “Damn me! I believe you’re right, Eldin!”

  “Eh?” said Hero.

  “Of course!” Limnar continued to speak in exclamations. “The white ship and its cargo … and Kuranes a hostage … and Zura’s fleet due to arrive sometime tomorrow morning, possibly at dawn. Yes, I can see what the Wanderer is getting at now.”

  Eldin nodded. “Ask yourself the real purpose behind that white ship,” he said. “Sabotage has already been mentioned. Very well, just what do the zombies intend to sabotage? Where’s the bulk of the green gas which was in that ship’s hold?”

  “Why, that’s obvious,” said Hero. “There’s only one possible target for—” And in the next moment his jaw dropped and his face turned ashen. “Serannian’s flotation chambers!”

  “Right!” said Eldin. “That’s the way I see it. Oh, we know Zura’s armada is capable of shooting down a ship or two—perhaps Kuranes’ entire fleet, though not without a great deal of damage to her own—but how could she hope to handle all of Serannian? Impossible from the outside, for the city’s armaments are sound and the potential size of Kuranes’ army is enormous … but from the inside?”

  “Where are the engine rooms?” Hero turned to Limnar. “They’re below the surface, I know, but where exactly, and how many of them are there? Surely as a citizen of Serannian you’ll know that much, Limnar?”

  The sky-captain raised his eyebrows. “What? But I have no idea! Would you expect a taverner in Ulthar to know the intricacies of a silver mine in Ulthar’s hinterland?”

  “Well, who would know?” Hero pressed.

  “The engineers, I suppose,” Limnar answered. “They work in shifts. I’ve heard it said that some of the old-timers have worked on every flotation engine in the entire sky-island. As to how many engines there are: I believe the answer to that one is sixteen. But only four of those are master engines, monstrous great things that manufacture by far the majority of the flotation essence. The lesser engines are mainly for balance. They are there to give us the Tilt.”

  “So if Zura’s gang is planning to take over the engine rooms—” Hero began.

  “Or if they’ve already started,” Eldin added.

  “Their best bet,” Gytherik concluded, “would be to infiltrate the master engine rooms.”

  “Right,” Limnar agreed.

  “I’m hungry,” said Eldin after a pause, and the tension visibly eased off.

  “You could use a bath, too,” Hero told him, grinning as he wrinkled his nose.

  “We all could,” said Limnar reasonably. “We stink of gaunts.”

  “Me especially,” said Gytherik ruefully. “Let’s all eat, drink, bathe, sleep—generally refresh ourselves. But first—”

  “The answer’s an egg,” Hero cut him short.

  “Pardon?”

  “The way to set your old man free,” Eldin explained, “involves a shantak-bird’s egg. That’s what you wanted to know, isn’t it?”

  Gytherik eagerly nodded. “An egg, you say? Of the giant shantak?”

  The adventurers took turns explaining and Gytherik listened intently. They told him the whole tale of their underground adventures, and when they were done there were unashamed tears in his eyes. Limnar had meanwhile roused a pair of Kuranes’ butlers who had prepared a huge room for the four and were now seeing to a meal for them.

  As they retired to their room Hero threw an arm round Gytherik’s shoulder and said: “Well, lad, I suppose that as soon as you’re fed and watered you’ll be off to find yourself a shantak-bird’s egg, eh?”

  “Inquanok’s hinterland is a fair way away,” answered Gytherik after a moment’s thought. “It will take a long time to get there and back, even using my gaunts. And they could use a good rest, I’m sure. Zura’s fleet, on the other hand, is less than a day away, and the gaunts and I make a fine team in a fight. In fact, using the gaunts we can engage the armada before it even gets here.”

  “Are you saying you’ll stay till it’s all over?” Eldin gruffly asked, a delighted smile splitting his bearded face.

  “I suppose I am,” answered Gytherik. “I think my father would forgive me this one indulgence. There is one other suggestion I would make, however …”

  “Oh?” said Hero.

  “Yes. Do you think we could stable the gaunts closer to hand? Say—next door? I’m not a coward but I am discreet. The moment I feel this sky-floating island start to wobble …”

  “I for one couldn’t agree more,” Eldin replied. “In fact, as soon as we’ve eaten I’ll see to it myself.”

  An hour or so later—with all of their immediate needs satisfied and as they were about to stretch out on their beds in the huge room which they had made their headquarters—one of Kuranes’ butlers knocked at their door, entered, bowed and announced the arrival of three of Serannian’s councillors. Hero bade the three graybeards enter and the butler quickly produced chairs for them.

  Introductions followed and the three newcomers turned out to be Messid Lythta, Allain Merrinay and Chelos Smith. The latter, as his surname might suggest, was a man late of the waking world who had lived for many years in Serannian. He suspected that he had been a policeman in the waking world, and if so he was a rare exception to a universally accepted rule; namely, it was almost unknown for a waking-worlder to follow the same vocation in the land of Earth’s dreams. In fact Chelos (he had been awarded half of a dream-name) was not truly a policeman, but he did advis
e the City Fathers on what little crime there was in Serannian.

  Messid Lythta was likewise useful, for he was the councillor in charge of Services and Amenities; he had overall control of the city’s workforce, including its flotation engineers. As for Allain Merrinay: he was a personal friend of Kuranes’—and an expert on all matters concerning the sky-island’s security. Three very important men indeed.

  Though the councillors were old men they still had all of their wits about them. When Limnar Dass had finished telling them of Zura’s approach, of the white ship, and all that was known of Kuranes’ kidnapping, then the three went into a huddle together and conversed in lowered voices for many minutes. Finally they seemed to come to some decision or other, and Chelos Smith turned his grizzled policeman’s head in the direction of the four where they sat on their beds.

  “You are brave men all,” Chelos told them. “We knew that even before your return, for the Lord of Serannian told us all about you. Now we are sure that he was right. Now, too, it is our intention to involve you in our plans for Serannian’s security; also in the safe recovery of Kuranes himself, if he still lives. The way we understand it, however, you are all independently secure even in the event of the sky-island’s fall. Is that so?”

  “Aye,” answered Gytherik, “for we have the use of my gaunts. I have but to call out to them and they would come instantly to our rescue.”

  “Very reassuring for you,” said Allain Merrinay dryly, “but not very helpful to Serannian.”

  “Our plan,” Chelos continued, “would deny at least two of you access to the gaunts—” and he gazed steadily at Hero and Eldin. “During the execution of that plan, if the sky-island should tail—you would also fall.”

  “Now hold on a minute—” Eldin started to his feet; but Hero only sighed and said:

  “Sit down, old lad, for we’re committed. You know it as well as I do, so we may a well hear the thing out.” He turned back to Chelos Smith. “All right, councillor, say on—and let’s hope for everyone’s sake that your plan’s a good one …”

  CHAPTER XXIII

  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 fin
d 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.