Free Mad Moon of Dreams by Brian Lumley

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.
    â€œA Leng ship!” cried Limnar. “Fat, black and ugly! She must have picked up our quarry.”
    â€œAye,” 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!”
    â€œAhoy, 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:
    â€œAhoy 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