Doctor Who_ Daemons - Barry Letts [54]
And then Azal appeared once more. In spite of his earlier experience, Stan was at least as frightened as the other members of the coven. Cowering on the floor by the feet of the elated Master, he could hardly bring himself to look up into the great lowering visage of the Dæmon.
'Azal! Once again I bid thee welcome!' The Master's voice rang through the Cavern. Stan could see the girl—Miss Grant, Mr. Magister had called her--shrinking back against the Stone of Sacrifice, her face twisted in a sound-less scream.
'On your feet, you worms,' said the Master contemptuously.
Slowly, one by one, the coven stood up.
'That's better,' said the Master. 'And now, Miss Grant, what are we to do with you? Have you any suggestions?' Jo tore her gaze away from the awesome figure looming over them and looked at the Master. His face, as evil in its way as the face of the unearthly creature he had conjured up, wore a sardonic smile.
Nobody moved. Then, in a moment, Jo made a frantic bid to get away and two coven members went to seize her, only to be bowled over by the eruption of Mike Yates from his hiding place. So taken by surprise were the Master and all his followers that Mike might very well have made good his escape, pulling the almost fainting Jo Grant after him.
The Master, however, snapped his fingers and pointed at the gargoyle figure of stone.
'Bok! Stop them!'
Mike whirled and pulled out his gun, firing round after and at the imp as it leapt from its pedestal. Round after and hit it fair and square and bounced off its scaly stone body, to ricochet dangerously around the Cavern.
Bok snarled and raised a twisted claw.
'Not yet!' cried the Master.
Once again Mike fired. A ball of fire streaked from Bok's pointing finger to strike the automatic like a bolt of lightning. As the gun jumped from his fingers, he quickly raised his hands in token of surrender.
Azal looked down, dispassionately watching the earth creatures at their puny quarrels. The outcome was of little or no concern to him.
'You are very wise, Captain Yates,' said the Master. He raised the ritual knife which he still held in his left hand and pointed it at Jo.
'Take the girl and robe her in the ceremonial tabard,' he ordered those nearest to her. 'She will make a very welcome addition to the Sabbat.' He laid the knife on the Stone of Sacrifice.
'No! No!' screamed Jo as they started to drag her away. With a cry of fury, Mike Yates tore himself free from his captors and leapt to her rescue. But he had no chance: struck sharply with the butt of his own gun a moment later, he lay senseless on the cold stone floor, unable even to hear Jo's cries of distress as she was hauled up the steps and out through the door.
Stan was shaking; a cold white rage filled his body at the thought of the pretty young girl stretched on the Stone of Sacrifice, as the chicken had been, at the mercy of the Master's knife. And yet, what could he do? To get himself killed was no way to help her.
'Two of you. Take this out of here.' The Master's foot disdainfully indicated Mike's unconscious body. 'Make certain he is secure. He may be useful later, as a hostage. Return as soon as you can. When they bring the girl back we shall resume the ritual.
Stan started forward before anybody else could offer himself and with the help of Arthur Sidgwick, the retired sailor who mended the village shoes, he lugged Mike up the steps into the vestry. Finding a length of tasselled cord (remnant of some long forgotten curtains) Stan and Arthur tied the senseless Captain by the hands and feet Neatly, efficiently, all ship-shape and Bristol fashion, Petty Officer Sidgwick R.N. (Ret.) made quite sure that when Mike Yates came to his senses, he would find himself quite helpless. One advantage of a sailor's knot, however, is that they can be easily untied when necessary. After Arthur had turned away with a grunt of satisfaction at a good job well done, it was