Doctor Who_ St. Anthony's Fire - Mark Gatiss [66]
‘No,’ said Bernice, extending her hand. ‘For yourself.’
* * *
Grek and Imalgahite sat alone in Grek’s quarters. There was a long moment of uneasy silence, broken only by the rumbling atmospherics from outside.
‘I find this… difficult,’ confessed Grek.
‘Of course. So do I. It’s not easy forgetting fifteen years of enmity.’
Grek looked up. ‘Have you forgotten?’
Imalgahite smiled and shrugged. ‘Do I have any choice?’
The bowl of wax at the side of Grek’s bunk suddenly began to shudder across the table.
Imalgahite whirled round, alarmed. The walls themselves were vibrating violently. Planks splintered and burst upwards from the floor as mud began to seep into the dug‐out.
‘Quake!’ barked Grek. ‘A big one by the –’
‘We’ve got to get everyone out. Come on!’
Imalgahite grabbed the speecher and managed to bellow an evacuation order before the wires were severed in a flurry of sparks as the far wall bulged and mud surged inside.
He grabbed at Grek’s uniform and together they staggered for the entrance, the floor rippling under their feet. Water from the trenches was gushing through the doorway as the floor level heaved, rose and then dropped heavily.
Grek launched himself into the trench and up the ladder, scrambling over the mud onto the surface. Imalgahite was close behind. Both their remaining armies raced from the dug‐out as its walls began to collapse.
Out of the corner of his eye, Grek saw Thoss crawling over the ground. The very air itself, already heavy with electricity, seemed to be juddering as though shimmered by heat‐haze.
In the midst of the chaos, Thoss threw himself to the ground and pointed up into the darkening sky. ‘The Keth!’ he screamed. ‘The Keth are come!’
Grek clung to the shaking ground as steam belched from the earth. Finally, he managed to raise his head and turned terrified eyes onto the scene above.
Hanging in the sky, so vast that it blocked out half the visible rings, was the great black ship. Clustered in the hollow of its prow like frightened sheep were the three Ismetch dirigibles.
Imalgahite slammed his face into the soil, his claws rammed against his ears, the throb of the great ship’s engines almost overpowering him.
The black ship was quite still, its rasping engines stirring the air into agitated eddies.
One by one, the tiny dirigibles began to drift away, as though granted their freedom. Their propellers made a tiny, pathetic sound next to their shepherd’s enormity.
Thoss had completely prostrated himself by now, his claws digging into the soil and his mouth opening and closing in silent prayer. Grek felt his heart slam against his ribs and a sheen of cold, glutinous sweat break out over his body. This was it.
‘Grek,’ called Imalgahite in a terrified whisper. ‘It’s… it’s letting them go.’
Grek looked again. The dirigibles had made progress and were heading for the landing plain some distance away.
He flinched and a terrible feeling of dread rose up in his stomach. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said in a whisper.
The rumble of the black ship’s engines increased in pitch and a new sound cut into it, chime‐like and crystal clear. Then the fabric of the hull seemed to blister and an immense red circle, like the mouth of Hell, opened in the darkness. The hole seemed to shift, turning slowly and efficiently so that it faced the dirigible fleet.
‘Oh God,’ cried Grek. ‘Oh God.’
For an instant the throbbing of the engines cut out and there was a dreadful, heart‐stopping silence. Then a tunnel of flame, so intense that it made the watching soldiers clutch their faces in agony, roared from the vast black ship and slammed into the dirigibles.
There was a brief, standstill moment of time, then all three erupted into a colossal bloom of flame, fire burning outwards, ever outwards, deafening the spectators with explosive percussion.
Immediately, fiery debris began to rain down from the sky and the soldiers broke and ran for the still‐shaking jungle.
As the earthquake subsided, the black ship glided through the tattered