Elysia Read online

  Except that demise was not upon them yet, and there were other lists to be considered, most recent of which had been Things Ridden Upon'. And boastful or not it seems highly unlikely that any dreamers anywhere could summon up a list of conveyances half so fabulous (and yet so thoroughly authentic) as that of Hero and Eldin. They had sailed reed-tree raft across the blue like beyond the Great Bleak Mountains, and down a whirlpool to a swamp beyond Thalarion. They'd ridden (flown) on a Great Tree's life-leaf from Thalarion's hinterland to the gardens of Nyrass the Mage in Theelys. They'd been transported 'magically' from Theelys to a mighty mountain keep, all in the blink of an eye. They'd been aboard Kuranes' ships of dream, Zura's ship of death, the eidolon Lathi's ship of paper. They'd been flown by night-gaunts across all the gulfs of dream, and vented in ethereal essence from Serannian's huge flotation system, and bustled on the back of a many-legged Running Thing through the Caves of Night in Pnoth and across the Stickistuff Sea. And that wasn't all, far from it:

  They'd slid down a beam of light from Curator's curious eyes to a sky-ship in the aerial Bay of Serannian; and rushed up into higher space on a broken mast and a bag of air; and flown to dreamland's moon on a spiral moonbeam! Last but not least they'd been borne by Eeth, a moon-moth maid, to the feet (or roots) of a magical moontree; absorbed by him and transferred to seedlings, which had then twirled them back down to the dreamlands; and finally, as grotesque gourds, they'd fallen to earth on the banks of the Skai near Ulthar, where both. had been 'reborn' full grown.

  'And now,' Eldin morosely concluded, 'it seems we're to careen on these damned great crosses to dreamland's very core - perhaps to the pits of nightmare themselves!'

  Hero could only nod (literally) and agree: 'Aye, this is another hell of a crucifix you've got me onto.'

  'Is that a joke or an accusation?' Eldin asked suspiciously.

  'Hue Hero snorted.

  'I accept your apology!' said Eldin; and: 'You know, lad; there's a list far more important than all these others we've played with. One which we haven't considered at all as yet.

  'Oh?'

  'Indeed! It's called "Narrow Squeaks Squeezed Through", and it might just provide a clue as to a way out of this current mess.'

  Hero carefully moved his head (about the only part of his person he could move) to peer at the other in the gloom of their predicament. Lashed to a great wooden cross and suspended over the rim of a pit that went down almost (but unfortunately not) without limit; the Wanderer was not a pretty sight. He never had been, but now he looked particularly ugly.

  Eldin was older than Hero's maybe thirty years by at least a dozen; he had a scarred, bearded, quite unhandsome face which yet housed surprisingly clear blue eyes - for all that one of them was now black. Stocky and heavy, but somehow gangly to boot, there was something almost apish about him; yet his every move and gesture (when he was able) hinted of a sensitivity and keen intelligence behind his massive physical strength. Alas, half beaten to death by Gudge's freebooters, that giant strength wasn't much in evidence now, else Eldin's bonds were long since torn asunder. Instead the Wanderer had his time cut out simply forcing words past his broken lips; so that Hero's niggling words and manner were deliberately designed to keep him on his mettle and chipper, as it were. Eldin knew this, knew too that Hero himself had seen better nights. He gloomed back at the younger dreamer, said 'Well, what about it? Is there a way out of this, or - ?'

  'Most likely or,' Hero glumly answered, and when helaid his head back winced from the spasm of pain in the spft spot behind his left ear, where his hair was matted with clotted blood.

  Hero was tall, rangily muscled and blond in dreams as he'd once been in the waking world. His eyes were bluelike Eldin's, but lighter; they could redden very quickly,however, in a fury, or go a thoughtful,- dangerous yellow in a tight spot. They'd been yellow a while now, though nothing had come of it. His nature in fact was usually easy-going: he loved songs a good bit and girls a great deal, but he was also wizard-master of any sword in a fight, and the knuckles of his fists were like crusty knobs of rock. He was very different from Eldin, yes, but they did have several things in common. They shared the same wanderlust, for one, and the same sometimes acid sense of humour for another. The lands of Earth's dreams occasionally make for strange travelling companions.

  `Are you saying we should just hang here and wait for the new day?' Eldin seemed surprised. 'Our last day, as it may well turn out to be?'

  ‘Hell no!' Hero grunted. 'By all means, let's be up and on our way!' He sighed. 'Look, old lad, I don't know about you but I can't hardly move a muscle. I can blink, talk, wriggle my backside, nod my head and wag it too, but that's all. Ergo: knackered! Physically, emotionally, mentally knackered. I haven't completely given up hope, not yet, but at the same time I have to admit that I can't see much future for us. Not if I'm to be truthful about it.'

  'Hmm!' said Eldin, gruffly. 'Just as I suspected: you expect me to get us out of it, right? What David Hero can get you into, Eldin the Wanderer can get you out of just like that!'

  However weakly, Hero had to grin. Now Eldin was needling him - deliberately, of course. In fact, neither one of them had been to blame for their untenable situation; their task had been impossible right from square one. And now Hero looked back on how they came to be here ...

  ... At that same moment but many miles away (the actual distance is conjectural; spans of time and space are deceptive in the land of Earth's dreams) in the resplendent city of Celephais, King Kuranes was echoing Hero's thoughts; except that he did it out loud, for the benefit of friends and visitors from the waking world. For upon reading that brief SOS borne on the leg of a pink temple pigeon, de Marigny had said farewell to Atal, bundled Moreen into the time-clock, travelled at once to the valley of Ooth-Nargai beyond the Tanarian Hills. Since the questers Hero and Eldin were agents of Kuranes, who better to ask of their likely whereabouts and something perhaps of this Gudge who apparently threatened their lives - than Kuranes himself?

  Now, in the King's palace (in fact an ivied manor-house, the very replica of his loftier seat in Serannian), The Searcher and Moreen of Numinos sat at a great table with the king, while whiskered, liveried servants stood in attendance. In his long nightshirt and still not fully awake, Kuranes had put on square-framed spectacles, read the scrap of paper they brought him, turned pale in the steady glow of a pair of antique oil lamps.

  `Gudge has them!' he'd gasped then. `Gudge the pirate, scourge of the Southern Sea and the skies around Zura and Thalarion!'

  Kuranes was slightly built but regal in his bearing, grey-bearded yet sprightly and bright-eyed, with nothing of the occasional fuzziness of natural-born dreamlanders (Homo ephernerans, as Eldin the Wanderer had long since dubbed the peoples of dream) about him. Quite obviously a man late of the waking world, still he was a powerful force for good in the dreamlands and a long-time enemy of all agencies of horror and nightmare. On reading the note he'd come wide awake in a moment and grasped de Marigny's arm.

  'And you came here in your time-clock, that awesome vehicle and weapon I remember so well from your last visit?'

  'Oh. yes,' The Searcher had nodded. 'It's out there in the gardens, where your pikemen have placed it under guard.'

  'Good!' Kuranes had uttered a huge sigh of relief. 'So perhaps there's a chance for that pair of great-hearted rogues even now.' And then he'd told his visitors all he knew:

  `Since the war of the Mad Moon things have been allowed to get a bit lax here in the dreamlands. Our victory was so massive, so decisive, that we've done precious little since but celebrate! A grave, grave error. Atal will have told you of the incidence of unorthodox eclipses? Just so. And did he also read an omen into your presence here at this time?'

  'Expertly,' said de Marigny, 'even though Atal had not foreseen just how serious our business here.' And he'd quickly sketched in what he knew of matters: the imminent uprising of the Great Old Ones, as evidenced in the alignment or re-alignment of certain stars; his own p
resence as a positive necessity now in Elysia, into which place there was still no royal road; Titus Crow's hint that certain clues as to Elysia's whereabouts might be obtained in Earth's dreamlands. Finally: 'And I believe that with the help of Hero and Eldin, I may be able to narrow down my search.'

  'Which makes their rescue that much more urgent, indeed entirely imperative!' said Kuranes, slamming down : his palms flat upon the table. 'Once more it seems the dreamlands are at risk, and not only the dreamlands but the sanity of the entire universe! Now listen carefully:

  'Some six months gone, the Southern Sea and the skies. over dreamland were safe and free as never before; With Lathi and Zura defeated in the Mad Moon's war and banished out of the sane lands of dream back to their own dark demesnes - and the Lengites crushed and sorely. depleted; and the surly Isharrans subdued, what few of them remained in Sarkomand and points west - honest folk were able at last to go about their businesses and pursuits as is their right, unhindered and unafraid.

  'The sky-trade between Serannian, Celephais, Ilek-Vad and Ulthar prospered; sea-trade and -farings between all the ports of the Southern Sea flourished; the Isle of Oriab lost much of its previous insularity and pleasure-seekers docked to Bahama as, before, to enjoy its wonders. Merchantmen had never sailed so close to the shores of infamous Thalarion, or with such small concern past Zura the land - not with guaranteed impunity, anyway and sightings of black Leng galleys, in both sea and sky, became so few and far between that Captains soon lost the habit of reporting them. It seemed that in the main the horned almost-humans stuck to their forbidden plateau, Lathi to Thalarion, rebuilding her twice-ruined hive, and Zura to her moon-ravaged Charnel Gardens.

  'Serannian's guardian sky-armada was expensive to man and maintain; patrols were long and boring for the crews; Men were better employed putting to rights the damage rained on the dreamlands in the time of the Mad Moon. All in all, the lands of Earth's dreams were peaceful and prosperous once more, and the memories of dreamlanders are extremely short. Peace, aye, but it was only the lull before the storm ...

  'And so the stage was set for mischief, which came all too quickly in the shape of Gudge and his pirates. Ships began to disappear on, the sea between Oriab and the continental dreamlands, along the coasts of Zura, Thalarion and Dylath-Leen, even in the skies. That's right: even the occasional warship, patrolling out of Serannian, disappearing without trace.. And what small pockets of intelligence and information I controlled all pointedin the same direction, arrived at the same conclusion: piracy! Sea-pirates, sky-pirates, probably one and the same! But from where, and under whose black-hearted command and control?

  'Oh, I had my suspicions. Zura had built herself a new ship, Shroud II, and crewed it with zombies - a "skeleton crew"- hah! Lathi was rumoured to have repaired and fortified her previously flimsy Chrysalis, and brooded aboard while her ter-men and -maids fashioned a new

  Thalarion of their extruded paper-paste wastes. But how could Zura be the miscreant? What use to her the spoils of piracy? Anyway, Shroud II was only ever spied over the Charnel Gardens sails furled, a kraken-prowed corpse of a ship and gloomy as a menhir. And as for Lathi: her wispy Chrysalis could scarce be considered a threat — certainly not to the practised gunners of a warship of Serannian! Cannon-shot would pass right through her, aye, but a fire-rocket would burn her to a crisp. So much we'd learned in the war of the Mad Moon.

  'I increased patrols over suspect areas, issued harsh punitive instructions, incurred heavier losses. And I began to lose patience and a deal of complacency. Obviously the problem was greater than I'd suspected; nor could I retaliate until I knew my enemy and his base of operations; patently I must now employ as much cunning as that unknown enemy himself. But then, some real information at last!

  'But first ... have you heard of Gytherik

  Kuranes raised a questioning eyebrow to peer keenly at de Marigny. 'No? Well, I'm not surprised; you've been away for quite some time and he's fairly new on the scene; and something of a novelty to boot. He's a lad from Nir and commands a singular power a power over nightgaunts! In fact he's dreamland's first gaunt-master, with the freedom of all the skies of dream.'

  De Marigny curled his lip in disgust and drew back aghast. 'What a menace!' he said.

  'Eh?' Kuranes looked puzzled for a moment, then shook his head. 'No, no, you misunderstand: I myself conferred his freedom of the skies. What's more, his grim won medals in the battle for the Bay of Serannian!'

  'Grim?'

  'Collective noun for a gathering of the rubbery horrors,' Kuranes explained.

  'Very appropriate, too!' said de Marigny, making. no effort to hide his astonishment. He shook his head. 'Things have really changed. I mean, am I to believe in beneficent gaunts?'

  'It depends who's controlling them,' Kuranes answered. 'But you're perfectly correct: old fears and legends die hard, and gaunts have a very bad reputation. Even now there's a saying in the dreamlands: that the only good punt's a dead 'un! Except Gytherik's grim would seem to be the odd-grim-out, the exception that proves the rule. Anyway, back to my tale:

  'I was in Serannian pondering my next move, when who should drop in on me but Gytherik and a handful of his gaunts. It was somewhat into the morning and the gaunts were looking a bit grim if you'll excuse the pun — and not 'alone from the sunlight, which they don't much care for at the. best of times. Two of them at least had jagged tears in their rubbery hides and limbs, which seeped a bit so that Gytherik had to tend them. Afterwards, I put them up (or down) in a dungeon for their comfort while we talked.

  It came out how he'd been to the mountain Ngranek,letting his gaunts do some socializing there; you know how night-gaunts guard or haunt the entranceways to dream-land's underworld, and, how there's one such gateway under Ngranek? Yes - well, the lad's solicitous of the beasts in his charge, you see. Anyway, on his way back to the mainnland, flying on the back of a huge brute of a gaunt and with the rest of the grim all about him, he spied below the lights of a merchantman out of Serannian on course for the Isle of Oriab. She was venting flotation essence and settling to the sea for the second half of her trip; Baharna, Oriab's chief port, being a pretty perpendicular place, hasn't much in the way of level mooring for sky-ships, which are obliged to use the harbour like purely mundane vessels. So there she was, this ship, settling down to the sea, when out of the sky like vultures fell three black galleys in a spiral, closing her in!

  `Gytherik sent his gaunts winging down through the night to see what the matter was; and there in the darkness he saw these three black ships, showing never a light, set upon the unsuspecting merchantman and pound her to match; wood! Pirates they were, beyond a doubt, who swarmed aboard the doomed, foundering vessel in a trice, putting. down all but the Captain and several paying passengers, whom they took off from the sinking ship. As for the crew of that stricken vessel: horrible! There were guttings hangings and plank-walkings; until Gytherik, watching from on high, was sick from the vileness of it all.

  `Now the gaunt-master was just one man, more properly a youth, and unarmed. Likewise his gaunts: they had only their paws to fight with and their wings with which to buffet. Nevertheless he set the grim to diving into the rigging of the black ships and doing whatever damage they could Alas, the pirates were ready for Gytherik, for they had seal his grim flitting against the disc of the moon. Now that's a strange thing in itself — the preparedness of these black buccaneers for the likes of Gytherik and his gaunts — which I'll get to in a minute. Anyway, seeing what he was about, the pirates dragged out hurling devices from under tarpaulins, loading them with tangles of netting armed with razor-sharp barbed hooks! And as the grim swooped at tore at the topmost sails and rigging of the black galleys so these weird ballistae were fired up into the night. Hooked, maimed, net-entangled, many a gaunt fell into the sea and drowned, victims of the first salvo; others were slashed by hooks, or had the membraneous webs of thee wings pierced; so that Gytherik feared he'd soon lose the entire grim.

  `
Naturally he quickly stood off — there was little more he could do — and there under the moon and stars the pirates hailed him, calling:

  `Hey, gaunt-master! You, Gytherik! Let this be a lesson! You're not alone in your freedom of the skies. Let it be known that henceforth Gudge the pirate claims sovereignty Over the sea between Oriab and the mainland, also Over the skies and shores and hinterlands of Zura and Thalarion!'

  'And they set up a great concerted shouting: "Gudge —Gudge — Gudge the Merciless!"

  And out from his cabin on one of those barbarous black vessels came the leader of that, terrible band: Gudge himself !

  'It was dark, remember — the dead of night — and Gytherik wasn't able to see as well as he'd like. Also, his viewpoint was aerial: he looked down on things from on high. But still it seemed to him that these pirates were a queer bunch. There was that in their voices which he couldn't quite place: a nasal, guttural quality, if "quality" is the right word. Also, they all wore turbans or tricorns — to a man, that is — and seemed uniformly short or squat for the barrel-chested, bow-legged brigands you might expect. Still, they did carry cutlasses, and some had eye-patches, and all were attired in gaudy rags and striped pants and so on; so what else could they be but pirates?

  'But if the motley crews of the black ships were a bitstrange, what of their pirate chief? For in answer to the call of his bully-boys he'd fired a brand and tossed it aboardthe doomed merchantman; and in the bright glare of that burning vessel, at last Gytherik should be able to get a good look at him. So thought the gaunt-master, but —

  'Gudge, whoever he is, was covered head to toe, cowled too, in such voluminous, bulging, billowing robes that Gytheric caught never a glimpse of his actual form or features; and the monster might as well be dumb, too, for all he uttered by way of words or sounds whexe he stood on the deck of his black command vessel, adored by his terrible crew. And not once did he lift his cowled face to the skies where Gytherik flew; so that the gaunt-master supposed he'd seen and learned all that he might of these pirates and their master at this time; and so, being concerned over his much-depleted grim, that handful of sorely wounded gaunts which remained to him, finally he turned away and limped for Serannian. Which was how he came to me in the morning of the next day.