Doctor Who_ Daemons - Barry Letts [25]
Funnily enough, he was experiencing a twinge of regret. They had not always been enemies. In the early days at school they had been playmates. Even later, though their paths diverged, a friendly rivalry had been as far apart as they would allow themselves to go. If only the Doctor weren't so abominably good! All this claptrap about morality, integrity, compassion and the rest! If only he had seen sense, together they could have ruled the Universe... But there it was. The Doctor had chosen. It was his own fault that he had to be killed. The Master came out of his reverie with a start. What in the name of Beelzebub was the stupid creature up to? He concentrated, and a picture formed in his mind's eye, the Doctor advancing on Bok, holding in front of him... what was it? Oh yes, a small trowel. Of course, it would be made of steel. Iron had always been a basic magical defence. But Bok had ample power to overcome it. Why didn't he attack?
The Master felt waves of fear flowing from the mind of his creature. 'Attack, Bok! Kill him! You have no reason to be afraid. Kill him!'
Bok raised his hand and pointed it at the Doctor. The moment had come.
Through Bok's ears, the Master heard the Doctor speak. 'Kiokleda partha mennin klatch!' he said.
The Master frowned. What was he up to? Those were not the words of power, at least, not ones that he recognised! The effect on Bok, however, was devastatinge. Recoiling across the smooth earth floor, snarling, he turned and fled down the tunnel. As soon as he was outside, he took to the air and, with his heavy wings beating, flew back towards the Vicarage, whimpering.
His face black with rage, the Master awaited him.
'But you don't believe in magic.' Jo's voice was still trembling.
'I don't, no. But he did, fortunately!'
'So that was some sort of spell that you said?'
'He thought it was. That's why he ran way. Actually it was the first line of a Venusian lullaby. Roughly translated, it goes, “Close your eyes, my darling; well, three of them at least”.'
In spite of herself, Jo couldn't help but laugh.
'I must admit that I should have been quite defenceless if he had seen through my little deception,' said the Doctor wryly.
'But what was it?'
'It looked like a gargoyle. Carved out of stone.'
'But it was alive!'
'In a sense,' said the Doctor. 'Come on. Let's get out of here.' Lighting the way for Jo, he led her back down the tunnel into the fine spring morning. It seemed impossible that only a few short minutes ago they should have been in such peril.
'Any way,' said Jo soberly, as their made their way across the springy turf, 'at least it wasn't the Devil.'
'You mean the creature Miss Hawthorne saw? No, that must have been a hundred times more terrifying.'
Jo shivered in the cool breeze. 'If I ever see him, I'll die, I just know I will.'
The Doctor stopped. 'Now listen to me, Jo. You're quite right to be frightened. But not because Miss Hawthorne saw this mythical Devil of yours. She saw something far more real and far more dangerous, an alien being who came here, in that spaceship, from a planet 60,000 light years away.'
'But I don't understand. I mean, why... ?'
The Doctor laid a finger on Jo's lips. 'No more questions. Not now.'
With an enormous effort, Jo suppressed her curiosity and followed the tall figure of the Doctor across to Bessie, who was still waiting patiently, where the Doctor had left her in the middle of the night.
Mike Yates had not been idle while the Doctor and Jo were away. First, he begged from Bert a half-inch paint brush, some ink and a large piece of paper—the back of the poster announcing last year's Garden Fête, so Bert informed him, when the Squire, with a series of chancy bowls, won himself a piglet and insisted on christening it with champagne... At last Mike managed to get rid of the garrulous and inquisitive landlord and settle