"Beneath the Moors"

by Brian Lumley

Originally published Arkham House, 1974

Prof. Ewart Masters is recovering from a near-fatal car accident, which has left him with a form of brain damage which causes him to black out and suffer memory losses.  Ordered to take it extra-easy while he recuperates, he decides to spend his time in quiet study of archaeology, particularly obscure lost civilizations.

Traveling to the north-east coast of England, where he moves in with a nephew, Masters pursues his hobby.

Of particular interest is a recently-unearthed figurine of a reptile-man, found in the Yorkshire moors, of unknown origin, and looking as if it were carved yesterday and not 12,000 years ago as is believed.  Masters becomes determined to learn more.

After having a blackout while doing some digging of his own on the moors, Masters learns that an identical figurine is in evidence at the local police station.  The police helpfully hand him the paperwork related to the unsolved case, which just happens to be a copy of Lumley's earlier-published tale, "The Sister City".

Prof. Masters follows the leads from the manuscript, and finds himself in the subterranean ruins of Ib, where Bokrug plays host.  Eventually he finds the spawning grounds of the Ib-ians.  And clumsily kills some of their young.  He is thrown into a pit full of bones, where he is stalked by a shoggoth.  A sudden underground explosions hurls him to the surface.  He is cared for by his nephew, but during the night the Ib-ians come, torch the house, and take him away.

This is one of Lumley's first novels, presumably composed around the same time as The Burrowers Beneath.  Unfortunately, it isn't anywhere near as good as Burrowers.

In some ways, its fatal flaw is the mirror opposite of Burrowers' downfall.  Where the former is brimming with ideas and potential - more than its short length can actually hold, Moors is a short story painfully padded to novel length.  And it isn't much of a story, anyway.  Although the idea of sequel-ing "The Doom That Came To Sarnath" is actually kind of clever, far too much of the book is taken up with Masters time spent exploring the underworld of Ib.  There's nothing here, imagination-wise, that a large number of pulp horror and sci-fi authors haven't done more imaginatively.  Only the grim ending gave me any kind of pleasant surprise.  All in all, a highly forgettable work.