Doctor Who_ The Awakening - Eric Pringle [49]
All at once it realised what the Doctor was planning, and the full extent of the threat to its ambitions became dear. In that instant its eyes flipped open and glinted with anger; it roared and swung forward in the wall, shaking itself free before the Doctor’s program could be completed.
There was panic in the jerky movements, and desperation in the deafening roar and engulfing smoke which poured out of it.
That roar shook the church to its foundations. It rumbled through the crypt and reverberated inside the fabric of the TARDIS. It summoned up the spirits of the churchyard dead, and rolled across the fields surrounding the church, creating a tidal airwave which rushed through the village to the Green and its faithful servant, Sir George Hutchinson.
The Green had become quiet. The troopers and soldiers had all gone to scour the village for the strangers. Most of the villagers had departed in dismay, appalled by the turn of events and the disintegration of Sir George Hutchinson.
When he had regained consciousness, Sir George had staggered around the Green, shouting, screaming, threatening everybody. He waved his sword about and almost decapitated an unwary villager, who had been looking forward to an enjoyable afternoon’s entertainment beside the bonfire. That was more than enough for most of the onlookers. The party was over before it had begun, so they went home and left the Green to Sir George and his madness.
Only a few bystanders remained, talking quietly among themselves and keeping a wary eye on Sir George in case he should erupt again. But he had been quiet for some time now. He wandered about dazed and uncertain, as if he didn’t know where he was.
Now he noticed his horse, peacefully grazing under the chestnut tree, and approached it with a tired, unbalanced stagger. He picked up the reins and dragged himself wearily into the saddle. He was sitting there, limp and looking only half conscious, when the cry of the Malus reached him.
He heard it coming, like a tidal wave moving in from the horizon at an incredible speed. It carne roaring through the sunlit afternoon, a vast towering ridge of Mound which blotted out sky and sun and then everything in the world.
Suddenly it was upon him. It engulfed his mind. Now he felt he was inside the noise, it had swallowed him up and there was nothing anywhere but this roaring, louder than it was possible for a mind to hold.
The impact stunned him. He stared wildly into the air.
Then his eyes started from his head and his mouth creased in pain; his hands went to his ears and held his head against the buffeting, and he screamed. He cried out the one word, ‘No ... !’ in a long, drawn-out shriek of pain and terror as the Malus sucked the mind out of him.
Sir George was its true servant now. He was completely in its power – far more than he had ever thought a man could he controlled by an outside force. The Malus commanded, and Sir George Hutchinson obeyed; no longer had he any choice in the matter.
The people on the Green, startled by his wailing cry, were watching him even more warily now. ‘Out of the way!’ he yelled at them. ‘I must get to the church!’
But before they could move, he dug his heels into the horse’s flanks and galloped through the shade of the chestnut tree into the hard sunlight on the Green, scattering them in all directions.
Sir George Hutchinson, the once proud owner of Little Hodcombe, was answering the call of his new master.
Turlough and Andrew Verney sidled down the steps to the crypt. They pressed their backs into the shadow of the wall and kept strict silence, all the time watching the two figures across the crypt trying to break into the TARDIS.
The Malus’s roar had disturbed them too, but there was no time to worry about it because the trooper hammering away at the door of the TARDIS was going to have it down soon. Willow, who had sensed that success was very near, stood by with his sword held in readiness, prepared to charge