Doctor Who_ St. Anthony's Fire - Mark Gatiss [34]
He swung round suddenly. Bernice took an involuntary step backwards, overwhelmed by his presence and the stench of his reptilian body.
‘However, I have voiced my disapproval regarding both these orders and if you step out of line, just once, I shall have no compunction in throwing you off this ship. Do I make myself clear?’
Bernice thought of a smart retort. It was bubbling to her lips even as she thought better of it and nodded, slowly and obsequiously.
Liso scowled. ‘I do not understand the gesture.’
‘Yes,’ whispered Bernice.
Liso turned back. ‘Helmsman. Take us up.’
The gondola rocked again as the dirigible’s engines roared into full life.
Bernice slid silently into a chair, looking glumly out of the window at the vista of endless green. The ship juddered into the air.
Darkness was bleeding into the sky and she noticed, for the first time, a suggestion of the fabulous ring system. Broad bands of gold, like a gilded spectrum, were peeking through the indigo sky. It was certainly impressive, she conceded, but had it really been worth all this trouble? Wistfully, she wondered whether the Doctor even knew she was gone.
* * *
The woman sank to her knees in supplication and then stretched out fully on the freezing stone floor.
The cathedral was immense, its walls, carved from blocks of pale stone, were hung with faded tapestries. Two sets of double doors flanked a central aisle at the head of which, at the very top of a flight of steps, stood a plain wooden throne. Another smaller door was inset in the opposite wall. Sunlight gushed through the cathedral windows.
Next to the woman, a naked man lay curled in a ball, sobbing inconsolably. She noticed the livid weals on his skin and pressure sores on his knees glinting red and wet. Appeals for forgiveness tumbled insanely from his cracked lips.
She thought for a moment of helping him, but such actions belonged to the old life. Now he would have to fend for himself, trust in the Chapter and hope that his sins would be absolved. She sat up straight and pressed her hands together, intoning the words she had been taught in a low, tremulous whisper.
The man next to her rolled over onto his side, groaning. His back was a mass of suppurating cuts. In one hand he clutched a three‐pronged whip, its tentacle‐like thongs terminating in tiny metal ball‐bearings. Without hesitation, he began to move off down the aisle on his knees, the healing sores bursting appallingly. The volume of his chanting rose in correlation to the increasing pain.
After every third or fourth word he brought the whip down onto his bleeding back, flagellating the livid flesh.
The woman quailed at the sight but then remembered that such feelings should now be beyond her. If her faith wasn’t strong enough then perhaps she might have to undergo such a ritual.
For now, though, she squeezed her eyes shut and prayed with all the fervour she could muster. If the Magna were to discover her weakness –
light – light and heat – trees splintering – soil burning – melting – turning to glass – houses flaring – bursting – men crying – screaming – lungs hurting with effort and smoke – smoke – then running – running – water bubbling – steaming – darkness closing over it – girl falling – begging – help me! – help me! – heat – light and heat – washing over – fire – the fire – oh god the fire! –
The woman blinked slowly in the dazzling sunlight of the cathedral. She was breathing quickly, frightened and puzzled by the vision which had risen, unbidden, into her mind. She looked about. The flagellant was lying in a pool of blood, the whip limp in his exhausted arm. There was a slack, contented, almost post‐coital smile on his face.
The woman stood up, smoothing down her hessian robe. In the recessed shadows she caught a glimpse of something purple. But the Chapterman had not seen her. Her vision had not betrayed her. She was safe. For now.
* * *
The Doctor looked up at the shrine with renewed interest. Candlelight glinted off the jewels studding its surface.