Doctor Who_ All-Consuming Fire - Andy Lane [48]
'Surd!' yelled the Baron.
Holmes took two steps towards Maupertuis and tried to snatch whatever it was that he was holding. They struggled silently for a few moments whilst the woman gazed at me with horrified eyes: horrified not by what was going on, but by something else that she had seen. I was trying to decide whether to join in the struggle or make for the stairs when a grotesque figure rushed up from the floor below. He was at least seven feet tall, and wide to match.
His physique was that of a prize-fighter, but it was his face that held me in thrall. Crowned by a rough thatch of black hair, it was scarred and swollen, and pulled into a grotesque expression by what seemed to be all of the many muscles of his lips and cheeks pulling in different directions. I recognized his garb: he was the driver of Maupertuis's carriage.
Holmes broke off the struggle and ran to join me.
Maupertuis indicated us with a flick of his head.
'Surd,' he whispered to the man behind him, 'kill them.'
We leaped back into the room and I slammed the door. There was a cheap bolt on the inside: I threw it, but it wouldn't stop Surd for long. Holmes tried to open the door again, crying, 'I must see the other man!', but I pulled him towards the window.
'The drainpipe!' I gasped. He picked up my meaning straight away, and clambered over the window-sill. I gave him a few seconds to get clear, then followed.
I still have nightmares about that climb. More than once I felt the bolts that attached the drainpipe to the wall start to give. Rust scoured my hands, and a bloody haze seemed to hover before my eyes as I called upon all my reserves of strength. I paused to look up at one point, and saw Maupertuis and the cowled figure of his companion leaning out of the window watching us. Of the menacing Surd there was no sign. I presumed that he was racing down the stairs to catch us. In my panic my foot slipped, and I was left hanging by a supporting bracket whilst my muscles screamed for release.
My flailing feet found a brick which projected slightly from the wall and I resumed my climb, drenched in sweat. I could not tell how far I had come, or how much was left. My universe was a stretch of crumbling brick and a cast-iron pipe.
'Jump!' Holmes's voice shouted from below. Trusting him, I let go.
It felt as if I was hanging unsupported in mid-air for an eternity, but the drop could have been no more than a few feet. Holmes steadied me, then pulled me away across the garden towards the wall.
'Oy!' a voice yelled from the direction of the house. I ignored it, and pounded after Holmes. A hand caught my jacket, and I was pulled up short.
Turning, I found myself in the grip of the greasy-haired footman.
'What's your game, then?' he panted. I planted a short jab to his solar plexus and a cross-cut to his jaw. He'd been in a scrap before, though, and shrugged the blows off without letting go.
Over his shoulder I saw Surd leave the house and lumber towards us.
Holmes had reached the wall by now, and was urging me on. I redoubled my efforts.
Surd paused, stood upright, and gazed strangely at me. A warm breeze stirred my hair. It must have been a reflection of the sun, but it looked to me as if his eyes were glowing.
I tried to jerk myself out of the footman's grasp, and succeeded too well.
Staggering backwards, I caught my foot in a clump of weeds. I sat down, hard.
It was that which saved my life.
As the footman grinned down at me I felt, rather than heard, a sudden whumph, and watched in disbelief as his head was engulfed in flames. He screamed and flailed his arms around. I scrabbled backwards through the garden on my hands and heels. He was jerking like a marionette in the hands of a drunkard. The flames were spreading down his shoulders and arms. As I watched, a