Doctor Who_ Battlefield - Marc Platt [57]
He had been set up by the future. Merlin was behind all this and he, the Doctor, was destined to be Merlin. It was unavoidable. One day, barring accidents, he would travel into the past of another universe and trigger the events he had forced himself to endure now.
He took out the spare hat that he always kept in his pocket and planted it on his head. He felt no better.
Merlin had put Arthur into suspended animation for some reason; perhaps the High King himself would explain when he awoke. But he might not take kindly to being woken, only to find that this was not the hour of England’s greatest need.
The Doctor looked at his watch... just in case.
At all costs, Morgaine must be prevented from reaching Arthur first, for she certainly meant him some harm.
There was enough damage being done already.
And her men must be prevented from laying hands on the nuclear missile. The Doctor trusted no one, not even himself, with such an infernal device. It was irresponsible in the extreme to leave it lying about like that. He was glad he had left Ace behind.
The UNIT vehicles had been pulled into a circle surrounding the missile launch vehicle. Morgaine’s troops were subjecting them to a barrage of gunfire from all sides.
Further off, the Doctor could seem more men-at-arms emerging from the trees. The UNIT troops, for all their hi-tech weaponry, were vastly outnumbered.
To his surprise, he saw several figures breaking away from the cluster of vehicles. The man leading them had a mass of yellow hair and must be Ancelyn. Beside him was another figure in UNIT fatigues and wielding a sword. It was Winifred Bambera.
Men-at-arms, immune to the bullets, were running to meet them in hand-to-hand combat.
Fools, thought the Doctor, for neither of them was wearing armour. ‘What good will any of it do?’ he said aloud.
‘I sometimes wonder myself.’ said the Brigadier who was standing next to him.
The Doctor turned back to the car. ‘Come on.’
‘Doctor, I’ve just received the most peculiar message from the hotel.’
‘What? Did it say anything about Ace and Shou Yuing?’
The Brigadier climbed into his seat. ‘No. All they said was "Night has fallen here." ’
The Doctor looked back towards the darkening sky. He thought for a second.
There was a fresh barrage of explosions from the battle.
They had started using grenades.
‘I’ll deal with the hotel later.’ He started Bessie’s engine.
‘First I have to stop this bloodshed.’
‘How, Doctor?’ said the Brigadier. ‘Stand in the middle and shout?’
The Doctor looked at him in surprise. ‘Good idea,’ he said.
Bambera searched for Ancelyn through the lighting. She saw him once from a distance, tackling two men-at-arms, but then she was set upon herself.
Her men were dying and she loathed it. She had followed Ancelyn out into the open, because he was the only one who understood their way of fighting and she had to learn it too.
She was trained in fencing, but a broadsword was another matter. Ancelyn said she was a born warrior. He told her to watch her footwork and let the force come after the blow. When they saw she had a sword, they lowered their guns. But even then they seemed reluctant to attack her. She suspected it wasn’t honourable to take on a woman. But it was them or her, so it was them. So much for honour.
Killing and maiming with a gun was surgical in comparison. First it had been smoke. Now it was blood.
They both sickened her. The sword hilt bit into her bare hands. But she was desperate to find Ancelyn; and desperate for her soldiers to survive.
How did she stop it? Kill their leader? Capture their standard? The fighting had moved away from her and was concentrated on the convoy again. Through the explosions, she heard Ancelyn’s voice shouting for Mordred to come and meet him.
Then the shouts stopped.
She stumbled over the top of a ridge and saw the enemies facing each other, ten metres between them.
‘Mordred,’ called Ancelyn. ‘Face me, Mordred. Is your army not