Doctor Who_ The Awakening - Eric Pringle [48]
And meanwhile, the ceaseless hammering on the door continued unabated, as the Doctor’s pursuers tried to batter their way in.
Inside the church, the Malus was also building itself up for the final, all-conquering effort that would ensure its release. The nave shook with its increasingly powerful vibrations, and echoed with the noise as it reared and spat smoke from the deep, dark cavern of its mouth.
It was into this hellish din that Turlough and Andrew Verney ran unawares, when they opened the door of the church and came hurrying through the pews.
‘Oh, no!’ Verney groaned. The sight of the gigantic Males taking over the church and springing to life in his beloved village overwhelmed him. He held an arm over his eyes and staggered away from it; he would have fallen if Turlough had not steadied him.
‘Let’s find the Doctor,’ Turlough suggested. ‘There’s nothing we can do.’
He guided the trembling, shocked old man back towards the main door. Then he stopped, and listened carefully. Through the roaring of the Malus they heard another, deeper noise, repeated over and over; it echoed up to them from the crypt.
‘What’s that?’ Verney whispered.
Turlough looked at him. He was listening hard, trying to extract meaning from the, sound. His face was drawn and worried-looking, and the old man felt his body go rigid with anxiety. ‘The TARDIS is in the crypt,’ Turlough said quietly. ‘I think we should take a look.’
Inside the TARDIS, the Doctor, working frantically at the console, was in the closing stages of establishing a program which might – success was by no means certain – give them some defence against the growing power of the Malus. But he was losing the race, as the gasps and moans of his companions warned him.
The image, like the mythical spider which invented its own existence, was spinning itself out of those tinkling, whirling lights. And it had almost accomplished its task: it moved its head freely now, craning further and further round to glare at the Doctor, as if it sensed that he was the real enemy, the one person it needed to fear.
The trumpeting sounds hardened and the lights spun with greater gusto. Tegan, who had more experience of these manifestations than any of the others, detected a note of triumph creeping in; and then suddenly the head jerked, broke free of all restraint and swung round to face the console.
‘Doctor!’ she shouted in warning.
The image watched the Doctor closely now; it seemed tense and drawn back, ready to spring. It looked to Tegan for all the world like some hideously deformed grey bat up there on the wall, waiting for the right moment to launch itself into flight.
The Doctor glanced upwards. ‘I know,’ he breathed quietly. He was very tense too, aware always that the image was only part of their problems. The heavy battering outside was still continuing, and it was just a matter of time before the door collapsed and let their enemies in.
The Malus image shifted threateningly. The Doctor held up his hands for them to be patient and stop distracting him. ‘It senses what I’m about!’ he cried anxiously. Now everybody stay perfectly calm and still!’
Concentrating furiously in the silence which followed, he was able to make his final set of calculations. Now he approached the last bank of controls.
In the church the Malus closed its eyes and fell silent again. The nave became ominously still, as if it too was breathlessly waiting. Smoke hung suspended about the pillars and floated in wisps and silent streams across the vaulted roof; somewhere a small piece of plaster, shaken out of its anchorage by the last bout of noise, finally edged loose and clattered to the floor. The sound crashed through the silence like a pistol shot.
The dull thudding noise still vibrated up from the crypt, but here now all sounds were held in suspension, taken up into the silent brooding of the alien monster, which had grown so large it seemed to occupy the whole church wall.
The Malus was listening. Sensing the mischief