Doctor Who_ The Nightmare of Black Island - Mike Tucker [64]
The energy waves that rolled across its skin had faded now and the flesh of the creature was solid and real. Hard, chitinous plates covered its back and arms, studded with wickedly barbed spines. Its back was hunched and muscular, the thick neck wreathed with writhing tentacles. Its head was flat and elongated, the brain protected by a hard, bony plate flaring out to an armoured frill, like a dinosaur. The black eyes blazed from beneath a heavy brow and row upon row of curving teeth gnashed in the wide mouth. Six powerful insect-like legs flexed under its abdomen, the claws at their tips gleaming and sharpened, and curling over its back was a segmented, scorpion-like tail, poison dripping from the spines that studded its length. The creature gave a bellow of anger at its confinement, lashing out with a clawed hand. Cynrog equipment shattered under the blow, tendrils of energy arcing angrily across the library. Enraged by the lightning, the creature started to lash out blindly, tearing the cables from the walls, sending books and consoles crashing to the ground. With a huge shower of sparks, the Cynrog machinery exploded, energy dancing wildly across the room, spitting flames in its wake. The creature crashed to the floor, released from the energy field. Its claws took huge gouges from the polished floorboards as it spread its arms wide and let out a shattering roar.
Peyne looked up as the roar reverberated around the house.
‘Balor,’ she whispered.
152
The Cynrog technicians had stopped their work at the consoles, looking at each other in excitement. The ward was filled with reptilian hissing.
‘Back to your stations!’ barked Peyne. ‘Priest Technician Hadron, with me!’
The two Cynrog marched from the room, throwing open the doors to the hallway. From upstairs came another mighty roar, coupled with the dull crump of explosions. Smoke was starting to fill the house, billowing across the once ornate ceilings.
Peyne frowned. ‘Something is not right.’
As they raced up the stairs, lithe and lizard-like, Peyne’s heart was pounding. To fail when they were this close. . . They skidded to a halt outside the library, staring in shock at the devastation that faced them. The heavy wooden doors had burst from their hinges, leaving huge, jagged splinters scattered across the floor. Chunks of plaster had been torn from the walls and ceiling and thick black smoke billowed out into the corridor. Another explosion shot gouts of flame through the open doorway, sending the Cynrog diving for cover.
Through the flames Peyne could see something moving. Something huge and dark. Hadron fumbled with the disrupter at his belt. Peyne hissed angrily at him, ‘Fool! You think we’ve come this far just for you to shoot him down? Conduct yourself as befits a Priest Technician of the Cynrog.’
Hadron bowed his head. ‘My apologies, Priest Commander.’
Peyne flicked her tongue in displeasure and smoothed down the creases in her battle fatigues. She would have preferred full ceremonial regalia for this moment, the end of so many years of waiting. Head held high, she entered the library, Hadron at her side.
‘Lord Balor, we of the Cynrog rejoice at your coming. Lead us once more to the victory. . . ’
The words died in her throat as the creature turned slowly to face her. She felt her skin prickle, the spines across her scalp stiffening in fear. Her hands were shaking; the creature was using its power on them.
153
‘My Lord Balor?’
Peyne stared up into the face of the towering monster, into the blazing eyes that were fixed on her, and at that moment she knew that something had gone terribly, horribly wrong. Instinctively she realised that the creature in front of her was incomplete. Somehow, something was missing. Somehow, she had missed something, and the thing that she had created was a savage, indiscriminate, uncontrolled animal. The soul that inhabited it had only one thought: destruction. The creature opened its wide mouth and let out a growl of hatred.
‘Commander. . . ’ Hadron had dropped