Doctor Who_ Cats Cradle_ Witch Mark - Andrew Hunt [59]
'Herne?' Bathsheba asked. 'My body is poor and weak and it is said that you, like Goibhnie, are able to heal, that you protect the weak.'
'I must go now. Goodbye.' He screwed up his face and with some apparent effort walked out of the clearing. The effulgence faded as he went.
'What a strange chap,' the Doctor mused.
'You are heading the right way to reach your path,' a distant voice carried through the trees to them.
'Weird,' Ace dismissed him. She tried not to be impressed by his trick with the tree.
Bathsheba was disconsolate. 'Herne could do nothing for me. I am cursed, I know it.'
‘Don't worry about it, Bathsheba,’ Ace said, 'there's nothing so awful about having a bad arm.’
They left the clearing and remounted their horses. Then they continued in the direction they had been heading, at least with the knowledge that they were on the right path. Ace wasn’t sire that they were going the right way, however, for the prospect of going to meet a maniac who unleashed demons upon a world did not appeal to the. The Doctor, on the other hand, seemed to think that it was vital that the meeting should occur. Perhaps he was right, but could they really persuade Goibhnie to turn to the good once more?
At last they came to the road through the forest. The entrance was guarded by two stone sentinels, carved into the shape of warriors holding swords prepared for battle. With some disgust Ace noticed that from the belt of one of the warriors hung a brace of human heads. The Doctor explained to her that it was an ancient belief amongst the Celts that the head was the seat of the soul and so warriors collected the heads of their enemies as trophies and to take on the strength of the dead men.
Leaving the grisly sculpture behind, they set off into the forest along a road which became more and more overgrown the further in they went. The sounds of the forest became less and less the deeper they penetrated. Near the edge there was much birdsong, but as they left behind the plain the forest grew quieter until Ace commented to the Doctor, ‘It’s as though we were the only living things here, Professor.’
‘Trees are living things, Ace, and if you listen carefully you can hear them going about their business.
Photosynthesis, transpiration, evaporation. All have their own very distinctive sounds.’
‘You’re making that up. You can’t hear anything.’
The Doctor gave her a hurt look and huffily straightened the lapels of his brown jacket. But then he relented and smiled to her. ‘You’re quite right. Just trying to enliven the conversation.’
Suddenly Bathsheba spoke up. ‘There is something out there.’
‘What do you mean?’ Ace asked.
‘Something out among the trees. It’s been following us for the last hour.’
The Doctor looked over Bathsheba's shoulder. 'Are you sure about this, Bats?'
'Oh yes, I heard it earlier, I ... Oh.'
Suddenly the path was filled with swarming figures. They wore simple loincloths and their bodies were covered with red fur. Bushy tails bristled and swirled about their legs, the white flashes at the tips dancing wildly. The Doctor's horse reared up but tiny hands brought it under control. One of the figures emerged from the crowd and waved a spear at the three travellers. Its dog-face formed words and spoke gutturally. ‘You will come with us. You are our prisoners.'
They were led off the road and into the welcoming arms of the forest which closed about them completely. The Sidhe camp lay a few hundred yards away from the road. There was nothing elegant or sophisticated about this place, stark in its simplicity. It was a cluster of low tents surrounding a central fire over which a pot boiled. A deer was hung on a spit, its tissues bubbling and oozing fat. The small group of Sidhe that had captured them took them into the centre of the camp and