Doctor Who_ St. Anthony's Fire - Mark Gatiss [61]
He motioned with his fat hand. ‘On your knees, sinner!’
The woman found herself incapable of disobeying. She bent down, her face dripping with sweat. This was not the way it should be.
De Hooch’s tongue flicked out and a dribble of saliva trickled down his robes. He brought the knife closer to her face.
honour saint anthony – suffering – pain – passion – humiliation – the passion of saint anthony – no – honour him – the sacred egg – the sacred salt – mixed they formed spiritual semen – spiritual urine – uphold his name – no – inflict terrible wrath on all unbelievers – hammer of the heretics – I am pledged to bring saint anthony’s fire to the heathen hordes – no! no! no! –
De Hooch smiled as he pressed the knife to the woman’s chin but was more than a little surprised when she grasped his wrist, twisted it and hurled him over her shoulder.
He hit the wall and slid to the floor, winded.
‘How… dare you?’ he spluttered in fury. ‘How…’
The woman was off and running. She careered around the corner and disappeared into the corridors.
De Hooch pulled himself up to his full three feet and picked up the knife. His little eyes protruded like mistletoe berries in his fat, angry face. He stamped his feet in frustration and then scuttled off in pursuit.
* * *
The woman reached a junction point where five similar stone corridors split off. This deep in the seminary there was little light but she was grateful to be hidden by the shadows. She had committed one of the worst sins imaginable: striking the Parva. At the very least she would be killed.
Her one chance now was to get out. What must it be like to feel the sunshine outside again? Not live this dreadful closeted existence. To walk amongst the forests and rivers?
She pulled up as the same dreadful pain cut through her mind. She had remembered something. Water. Trees. Things from the old life. There had been an old life.
Somewhat cheered by this, she pressed on.
A short distance on, down the second of the identical corridors, she came upon a huge metal door. The familiar flame‐entwined cross, symbol of the Chapter, had been embossed into it. This was a forbidden area.
Uncaring now, since she knew she was doomed if caught, the woman opened the door.
Beyond it, rising high into the roof, was an enormous spiral staircase. It threaded through a network of dense, oily black machinery, like the workings of a titanic clock.
She closed the door softly behind her and began to climb the stairs which rang hollowly beneath her feet. She looked around nervously, conscious of a deep throbbing of power.
The steps rose ever upwards, twisting through shadowed niches in which incomprehensible nests of machinery whirred and clunked.
Baffled, the woman pressed on. As she reached the top of the spiral staircase, another door loomed into view. The surrounding walls were solid and white. There was no cross on the door, instead, unexpectedly, the legend:
GOGGLES MUST BE WORN
The woman looked around. Several pairs of dark glasses were hanging from a rack close by. She slipped some over her eyes and gingerly opened the door.
It was like being slapped across the face, she thought. Light flooded the area beyond and she stepped back involuntarily. She could see nothing. Nothing but the blaze of furious white light.
The pain in her head stabbed across her goggled eyes.
After a moment, however, she began to make out shapes in the whiteness and realized she was standing in a vast room, its walls lined with blinking panels and controls.
In the centre of the chamber, behind a metal barrier, was an incalculably huge ball of light, its surface crackling with plasmic energy.
Even with the protective goggles, the woman had to cover her eyes. She was on the point of advancing further when a strong arm grabbed her around the throat. She spun round and twisted her head as the pressure increased. A Chapterman was standing behind her, looking rather like a giant bat in his cloak and goggles.