Storm Dreams (The Cycle of Somnium Book 1)

by Jeb R. Sherrill

“Hold, Friend. Just a sec,” the man said, touching Brewster’s shoulder. “I happen to have acquired a map, that is to say it is presently in my possession, but I’m bereft of transportation.”

  “Not interested,” Brewster said, without looking back. “We’ve got our own places to go.”

  “Oh, Friends, I’m sure you do,” he said, walking backwards to keep up with us, “but it’s a mutual business venture I’m thinking of. A venture of adventure, as it were.”

  Brewster still hadn’t looked back. Without telegraphing his intentions he stepped back and knocked the man over with a harsh slam of his shoulder. At the same time, he drew his Webley and fired into the shadows. The sound of another shot resounded at the same moment and a savage groan came from the darkness.

  Cassidy glanced down at the man Brewster had toppled, who now tugged at the pistol in his belt. Cassidy fired once. The man lay still.

  Jayce was already on one knee, searching the darkness ahead with his eyes, his Luger cocked and pointed into the distant uncertainty.

  Pinning himself to the wall, Cassidy aimed at the alcove of shadows to their left. “Come out,” he said, levelling the muzzle chest-high in the hope of making whoever was there think he could actually see them.

  The large cloaked man they’d seen earlier walked out of the alcove, his shotgun trained on them with one hand, its stock trapped beneath his arm and a revolver in his other tight grip. Cassidy tried to imagine how the man had doubled back already, but there was no telling how many passages the caves held. “Coulda’ shot you boys up good,” he said. The hood of his cloak was pulled back and Cassidy could see his mass of grey hair spilling out around it. “Armada says there’s more for us with you in one piece though.”

  Chapter 19

  Cassidy stepped forwards until the shotgun barrel rested against his chest and touched the muzzle of his Mauser to the man’s head. Jayce and Brewster kept their vigil on the darkness ahead. “How bad do you need that money?” Cassidy asked.

  “Nothin’ personal,” the big man said. “You can’t blame a man for takin’ a good opportunity.”

  “I’m not going to blame you,” Cassidy said, adjusting his finger on the trigger. “I’m going to kill you.”

  “Point well made,” the big man said. “But if it’s not me, it’ll be someone else. Bounty just went up a thousand percent on all of you. Ship, too. Your captain the most. At least I’d be good to you ‘til I turned you over.”

  “You’re too kind,” Cassidy said. He fired. The big man’s head exploded. Cassidy twisted to the side in the same moment as the shotgun went off, sending a shower of lead into the wall behind him. One ricocheted and ripped through his sleeve. He turned to Brewster, whose gaze still levelled on the darkness. “I thought you said this place was dangerous.”

  Brewster snorted without looking away, but started moving.

  Cassidy and Jayce slid along the wall, pistols still levelled, while Brewster crept down the centre. Cassidy tripped over something. It dissolved when he kicked it. “Think I found the other one you shot. Must have taken a while to die.”

  Brewster nodded. “There could be a fourth. Maybe twenty. It’s becoming a bloodbath. If they didn’t need us alive, we’d all be corpses by now.” He gave them both an apologetic glance. “Sorry blokes, this wasn’t one of my better ideas.”

  “Hell, you say,” Jayce said, taking quick glances over his shoulder. “I don’t understand how the news got so far ahead of us though.”

  “Me neither,” Brewster said, as they reached the central core. “Must have communication we don’t know about.”

  The Nubigena loomed above them.

  Cassidy started up the ramp to the dock. As they reached the top, bullets shattered the wall in front of them, sending a scatter of fragments across their path. They dropped to their stomachs and returned fire. “I thought they didn’t want to kill us,” Cassidy said, as Brewster squeezed off several rounds.

  “They aren’t,” Brewster shouted. “They’re trying to pin us in.” At least two people seemed to be doing most of the shooting, though two other bodies grabbed their chests and faded away. “They’re out-ranging us with those rifles.”

  Cassidy attached the wooden holster to the butt of his Mauser. He rolled into the open, rose to his knee, took aim and shot one of the two as the untrained marksmen fired wildly. Jayce and Brewster came up with him and sank several rounds in the other man with a barrage of combined projectiles.

  “Don’t you think that was bit of a risk?” Brewster said, as they ran for the hatch.

  “Well,” Cassidy said between pants, “They’re not supposed to kill us, right?”

  Brewster cracked a grin and shook his head. “You’re crazy,” he said as the hatch opened and Franz ushered them through, rifle in hand.

  The young German looked exhausted and shaken. “Had to kill about ten,” he said, as he slammed the hatch behind them. “The Lewis gun has gone through four chains.”

  Brewster gave an audible exhalation. He pulled a knife from his boot, reopened the hatch and dashed outside. The others clambered to the windows and the open door to cover him as he slashed at the four lines tethering the gondola. The Nubigena drifted away and Brewster leapt several feet to make it back inside. “Jayce,” he said, as the young man wheeled the hatch shut, “I want you up on the gun platform. Franz, starboard gun. Use the Maxim. I’ll use a Lewis on the port. Cassidy, I want you ready to take us out of here. I think they’re about to forget about handing us in, no matter how much the Armada is paying, and decide they can’t afford to leave us alive.”

  “Nubigena’s nose is still moored,” Cassidy said, as everyone ran for their stations and Brewster made for the port Lewis gun.

  “I know,” Brewster said over his shoulder. “We’ll have to shoot the line.”

  “Cassidy, Brewster,” Karl shouted, as he poked his head in the door from the rear corridor. “Banner is on his feet.”

  Brewster nodded to Cassidy. “Go see him. I’ve got to get to the gun.” As the Englishman turned to go, Banner staggered out from behind Karl. He was still pale. His hair stuck out on the right side of his head and he leaned against the wall, but forced a smile onto his thin lips.

  “Trying to kill us, are they boys?” Banner asked. He put his head down and took several deep breaths. “Take me to the helm.”

  Karl and Cassidy each took an arm as Brewster cleared the way. They hobbled Banner to the helm and propped him up in front of the wheel. “Why are we still moored?” he snapped, wrapping his fingers around the spokes. He seemed to draw some energy from the Nubigena herself. It was as if just standing there, being captain, made him taller and straightened his shoulders. He turned, and, although his skin was still damp and it didn’t look like he could stand without the wheel, Banner’s eyes brightened. “I said, why the hell are we still moored?”

  Brewster saluted and vanished. Less than a minute later, the top gun turret fired off a volley of shots and the Zeppelin drifted out towards the centre.

  “Engage the engines,” Banner said. Cassidy pushed the throttle down and felt the ship pull away.

  The darkness erupted with gunfire. Bursts lit up the core as muskets and small cannon blasted away. They had few machine guns, but the two Lewises up top and the Nubigena’s side guns responded with bursts of rounds.

  Cassidy’s hands flew over the controls as he did his best to compensate for his scant knowledge with instinct and luck. “They’ll block off the way we came in.”

  “Of course,” Banner said. “Now get everyone somewhere stable and belt yourselves down.”

  “What about the gunners?” Cassidy asked.

  “Forget shooting. Belt them down too.” Banner turned. He still looked like a half-animated corpse, but he smiled the singular smile the captain seemed to have patented and no one could have copied anyway. “Just let me fly.”

  “But the throttle,” Cassidy said.

  “Forget the damn throttle. Just get back there.”


  Cassidy released the handle and ran. It took him all of two minutes to make his way up into the Zeppelin’s main cell, but the hardest thing was getting Jayce down off the platform. He pounded a steel bar against the girders until the young man poked his head down and Cassidy shouted for him to get down. As Jayce slid down the ladder, the Nubigena began to climb. The crew huddled into a cabin made for such emergencies and belted themselves to chairs fixed to the floor.

  “Shouldn’t one of us be up there?” Cassidy asked.

  “Nein,” Franz said, as the craft lurched upwards. “Leave him alone with his woman.”

  “What the hell is he doing?” Cassidy asked.

  They exchanged glances as the Zeppelin climbed, rocking them back to a ninety degree angle.

  “How is he accelerating and steering at the same time?” Cassidy asked.

  Brewster laughed. “Sets the wheel, moves to the throttle and moves back. I’ve watched him do it.”

  “But we’re climbing,” Cassidy yelled. “What the hell is he doing?”

  Gunfire cracked the air, but trailed off as the ship tilted back all the way, putting the crew on their backs. “He can’t do this,” Jayce shouted. “Zeppelins can’t do this?”

  Karl shrugged. “Not that I’ve ever seen, but…”

  The Nubigena accelerated faster, pushing them into their seats as it rocketed upwards. Out the window, the inside of the hollow mountain flew by. The ship stood straight now, gaining altitude at breakneck speed. The light of torches rushed by in streaking lights. In a final burst of speed they were in the stars, the Zeppelin slowly levelling off.

  Cassidy tried to imagine what it must have looked like to anyone from outside; the great stormship emerging from the top like a giant bullet fired from the base of a volcano. It couldn’t be done. How could Banner have remained upright enough to steer? And Zeppelins couldn’t do that. They just weren’t made to fly that way. But it had happened, and out the window they watched the dark mountain slide into the nothing below.

  “He really is mad,” Brewster mused. “Thank God, the man’s insane.”

  They unstrapped and made their way up to the helm. The unconscious body of Banner hung from the wheel, his arms dangling, head and upper torso arched back. Cassidy and Brewster reached him in a single stride.

  “My word,” Brewster said. “He’s strapped himself on.”

  Banner had looped his two-inch leather belt through the spokes of the wheel. Cassidy held him as Brewster unfastened the buckle and Jayce cranked the throttle back to zero.

  Whatever action-induced adrenaline had pushed Banner to stand and fly, had left as quickly as it had come. The gaunt captain sagged in Cassidy’s arms. Only the light breath on Brewster’s silver cigarette case confirmed he was still alive.

  It took ten minutes to hoist him gingerly back to his cabin where Karl tended to him with the compassion and fear of a young mother. “He has killed himself,” the old German moaned. He looked like he might cry, but instead pulled the sheets up to Banner’s white chin and said a quiet prayer.

  “Didn’t know you prayed,” Brewster said.

  “I learned,” Karl said. “I even think I know what it means now.”

  Cassidy felt a lump well in his throat. Learned? Could dreams learn? “Don’t let him get up again,” he told Karl as if the old German needed to be told. He stumbled to his quarters under the excuse of exhaustion, but when he got there he laid down and put an arm over his eyes without sleeping.

  Elena had hurt him worse than he’d realised. She’d probably ordered whisky on the rocks because she saw it was his drink and wanted to dig in the fact that he was helpless to change his own mind.

  What were the Twilights anyway? After death they faded like dreams, but weren’t dreams. Weren’t human either. Some hybrid, or simply an in-between race as their name implied? Where did Twilights, or dreams, go after death? Or did they simply fade into oblivion?

  Cassidy wondered if he could ever pray. How did Karl do it? What about God? The Everdream existed. The demon with the umbrella existed. There was nothing in his memory but vague concepts he couldn’t put words to, as if these were things he knew, or at least believed things he couldn’t remember.

  Why did it disturb him so much for Banner to be catatonic? The rest of the crew acted the same way. Brewster had acted so relieved during his few minutes of not having to command anymore. Cassidy had seen it on his face the moment Karl told them Banner was on his feet. Now...

  Someone knocked at the door. Cassidy took his arm away from his eyes.

  Brewster poked his head in. “Sorry, Old Boy,” he said, pushing himself in farther. “Jayce is keeping the ship on keel, so I thought I’d pop back and see how you were doing.”

  Cassidy motioned him in. The Englishman took a seat and broke out his pipe. He went through the meticulous ceremony of packing, lighting and puffing, before he leaned back and relaxed. “You still haven’t said what happened to the Fokker. Karl’s on pins and needles.”

  “Gone,” Cassidy said, staring at the ceiling.

  “I see,” said Brewster. He clicked the pipe stem against his teeth. “Did Ned take it?”

  Cassidy sighed. A part of him wanted to tell Brewster about the fickle scientists. About the strange technology there. About the witch of a mind doctor, Elena. Instead, he gave a non-committal grunt.

  “I’m not trying to put my stick in where it doesn’t belong,” Brewster said and sent several clouds of bitter smoke into the air. The peat in the English blend gave off a pungent stench that was pleasant only because Cassidy associated it with his friend. “But it just seems that something’s eating your guts out.”

  “Still trying to work the day through my head,” Cassidy half-lied. “Keep expecting the world to explode.”

  Brewster gave a grave nod, sucked in on his pipe and exhaled more smoke. “If it’s any consolation, I’m still not through it myself. ‘Til you showed up I’d hardly ever shot anyone up close. Downed fighters, but that’s different.”

  “I’m a bad penny,” Cassidy said, putting his arm back over his head. “A Jonah.”

  “Come on, Old Boy, you landed heads up. World’s just gone a little mad.”

  “Since I showed up,” Cassidy reminded him.

  Brewster shrugged. “World was always a little mad.”

  “So what’s the new plan?” Cassidy asked, still trying to steer things away before they landed on his original rescue from the dream.

  “Run like hell,” Brewster said, and did so without the crack of a smile. “No strategies until the captain wakes up again. We’re just going to take the long way around the Twilight. Keep away from any type of civilization and shoot at anything that flies even if it’s a bird.”

  Cassidy nodded. He sat up and rubbed his face. “Are we ever any more than bad echoes of a dreamer somewhere who dreams of us every night, wakes up and forgets they ever knew we existed?”

  Brewster stood and pulled Cassidy from the bed. “That’s got you worried again, eh. Philosophy’s no good. Trust me. Sometimes just existing brings its own meaning.”

  “How can you be sure you exist?”

  Brewster sighed. He blew more smoke, looking thoughtful as if he might draw some meaning from the pipe itself. He slapped Cassidy on the back and opened the door. “I know I exist because I’m the one about to have a drink.”

  Chapter 20

  Cassidy slept little as the next few weeks became an uncalculated game of cat and mouse. The Armada dogged them. Bounty ships followed just out of gun range. The Nubigena ran through boxes of ammunition, mostly spilled from the Maxims and Lewis guns. They ran low on food as well, and even Karl complained of all the boiled cabbage they endured because he’d insisted on bringing so much aboard on their last real world visit. None of them required food to remain living, but not eating took its toll on their minds. Minds which couldn’t forget needing it.

  At the beginning of the third week, Banner stirred for the first time since Gunyin. Cassi
dy reached his room along with Brewster. Jayce, Karl and Franz were already there. They exchanged glances as the captain blinked his eyes open. “How long?” he asked.

  “Weeks,” Cassidy said. “Perhaps a month.”

  “Damn,” Banner said, trying to sit up. “How’s our supplies? What’s our status with the Armada?”

  They gave him their best guess.

  “We’ve got to gate,” he said, forcing himself to a seated position and then to his feet with the aid of the end table. They tried to help, but Banner brushed them away. He staggered in place, eyes wandering and unfocused.

  Franz handed him a cane. Banner glared at the young German, but snatched it anyway and hobbled into the main corridor. “I’m hungry,” he said heading for the bridge. “I need a drink.” He took a bowl of cabbage soup and a neat glass of scotch at the helm. He stood at the bow window and rested his hand against the aluminium mullion between the panes of glass. “You’ve done well, boys,” he said, eyes fixed on the drifting clouds and the nothingness between them. “It’s time for a holiday. What do you say?” he said, turning his head, but his body remained rigid and braced against the steel. “Paris? Budapest? London?”

  Cassidy spoke for the rest of the crew. “Anywhere with food and no Armada.”

  Banner motioned Cassidy over. The others retreated to the back of the control room. He put one hand on Cassidy’s shoulder and locked him with a stern gaze. “You broke us out,” he said, his voice low, but firm. “Whether you stay with us, or go your own way, I’m not forgetting that.” He released Cassidy’s shoulder and turned back to the helm. “Get back over here,” he yelled at the rest of the crew.

  Cassidy took up position leaning against his favoured support girder as Franz, Brewster, Jayce and Karl took their old positions. Stay or go? It was hard to imagine going now. Even if death meant oblivion, the Everdream was the enemy in every way now. Besides, he had come to hate it. The whole damned hive-mind made him sick.

  Banner smiled his Banner smile, pushing his thin moustache into a straight line. “Berlin,” he said. “I haven’t seen Berlin since the war started.”