Doctor Who_ Daemons - Barry Letts [66]
Without a second's thought, as inevitably as if her whole life had been leading to this moment, Jo threw herself in front of the Doctor, shielding him from the attack of the Dæmon.
'No! He is a good man,' she cried. 'If you must kill somebody, kill me, not him!' She stood there, eyes closed, head thrown back, awaiting the bolt of fire which would mean annihilation. But nothing happened. She opened her eyes and looked up.
Azal was behaving very strangely. Clutching his head, he was swaying hack and forth as though in pain. His great cloven hooves rang on the rocky floor as he stamped to and fro. His whole body was starting to glow as if lighted up by internal flames and smoke was drifting from him as from a mouldering firework about to explode. His groans of anguish were horrendous to the ear.
'This action does not relate,' he was crying. 'There is no meaning. It does not relate.'
He lifted his head. The great voice racked and strained. 'A Dæmon must die alone. Go! Leave me. All of you!'
It was very apparent that this was a good idea. The ground was beginning to shake, a deep rumbling to be heard and the rock surrounding the Dæmon to turn red hot.
Struggling to get through the door they could all hear the cries of pain becoming shrieks of inhuman agony. The last of the Dæmons was dying...
Miss Hawthorne was chattering almost gaily as she completed her preparations for coping with Bok. It helped her to put out of her mind a dreadful thought. If she managed to get past the gargoyle, how was she going to deal with Azal? One thing at a time, she thought and concentrated on the task in hand, the drawing in the roadway outside the churchyard of a magic circle containing a five-pointed star.
'It's the Great Pentagram of Solomon, you see, Sergeant. It's the greatest magical defence there is.'
Sergeant Benton had been detailed off to look after the white witch, while the rest of the UNIT troops continued their attempts to get into the Cavern, all of which had failed. An elaborate plan, formulated by the Brigadier and put into operation by Mike Yates, to keep Bok occupied by the vestry door while a covert approach was made on the Church's main door was foiled by Bok's taking to the air. Swooping and turning, hovering and diving, he appeared to be in every place at once. After several more soldiers had nearly been vaporised, the Brigadier had ordered a strategic withdrawal to the green, where he and the rest we now licking the wounds to their professional pride.
'But surely, we don't want a defence?' said Benton , as Miss Hawthorne drew a strange symbol in each point of the star. 'It's an attack we're after.'
'I would never be able to raise enough power for a direct attack. Certainly not by myself. No. It's like judo. We use the enemy's own power against himself.'
'I still don't get it,' said Benton , looking yearningly towards the group of khaki-clad figures on the green.
'It's quite simple,' she replied, as she placed various objects taken from a paper carrier-bag onto the pentagram. It's an old occult principle. A magic attack which fails to find its mark recoils on the attacker.'
'I see,' said Benton , becoming interested in spite of himself. 'So you'll stand in the middle of that and call the gargoyle thing a few dirty names. He'll attack you, the fire will bounce back off you and, bingo! He'll vaporise himself.'
'That's more or less the idea,' she agreed, as she sprinkled salt on the articles in the star—some iron nails, a garlic flower, some twigs, a strangely shaped root, and a pile of stones.
'But isn't that rather dangerous?' said Benton .
'Of course it is. Now, be quiet, there's a good boy.' Miss Hawthorne produced what Benton could only suppose was a magic wand. Holding it in her right hand, she traced the outline of the circle and star with it, muttering under her breath. Benton could only catch a few words.
'... bound and sealed be all demons and powers of adversity... to be a fortress against all foes, visible and invisible...