Doctor Who_ The Zarbi - Bill Strutton [38]
‘Get back! Get back! The ground’s giving way!’
Ian lunged inside, reached out his arm, and yelled back,
‘Catch hold of my hand!’
Behind him the Zarbi now appeared, their leader directing the gun. Ian felt downward into the opening and found Vrestin’s hand. He seized it, but already Vrestin was sliding down out of sight. As Ian hung on grimly he, too, was dragged in through the opening. Vrestin’s muffled choking voice came back despairingly.
‘Let go – you’ll be pulled down with me!’
Still Ian hung on. Vrestin’s weight had pulled him entirely into the shallow cave under the rock. As he fought to pull Vrestin back, Ian felt the ground crumble and sink under his weight. Sand cascaded down from the cave walls on either side and suddenly a fissure yawned beneath him.
Vrestin’s hand was wrenched from his grip. With a wailing cry Vrestin fell down through the dark opening crevasse amid a shower of falling earth.
His cry echoed hollowly back as if from an immense depth before if faded. Ian pulled back now but it was too late. His hands and feet threshed wildly for a hold on firm ground but felt only crumbling sand and emptiness. He slid, and gathering speed fell into a darkness with a wild yell.
At the mouth of the opening under the rocks the Zarbi halted and peered down. Before them a wide fissure now yawned with trickles of sand cascading down it, too deep to see the bottom.
The Zarbi backed hurriedly away from its crumbling edge as the echo of Ian’s cry floated upward from its depths.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Crater of Needles
Ian’s last memory was of crumbling rock and a deluge of sand cascading all around him as he whirled and fell.
Something hit him and it seemed that the back of his head opened and let in an explosion of light and pain.
His consciousness faded like a rocket, trailing fire.
There was an eternity of darkness before the shadows lightened – and very slowly, muttering and relapsing into sleep, he finally awoke. He blinked hard. His head was one great throbbing ache. He moved painfully on to an elbow.
Near him a shape stirred and moaned and he turned, touched it.
It was Vrestin. Ian reached and shook him. The Menopter’s eyes fluttered, opened slightly.
‘It seemed... we were falling... forever...’ Vrestin mumbled, then suddenly sat up and stared around.
‘This place – what is it?’
The rough walls glowed with colour. When Ian focused his eyes he saw they were designs – decorations – gaudy and brilliant enough to rival the colouring of Vrestin’s own splendid wings.
A greenish light pervaded this place. They were in a rocky underground chamber, smooth-floored except for a scatter of small rocks and sand about them which had accompanied their fall.
Vrestin looked up – and sure enough, a gap showed in the roof of the cave.
‘We must have fallen through that.’
‘I’m taking a look round,’ Ian said.
He got up stiffly. As he did so he heard a rush of feet –
and stopped dead.
Several shadows launched themselves at him from the corner of the room. The eerie light glittered on the weapons which they thrust forward at Ian and Vrestin, now rising dizzily to his feet.
It was hard to see the faces behind the thicket of spears which suddenly hemmed them in, immovable, staring around them.
The Crater of Needles was a vast, flat depression in the land. The horizon on all sides was rimmed by high, jagged rocks.
From its level floor hundreds of slender stalagmites rose sheer and high like multiple glass spires, and the ground between was dotted with acid pools, giving off their vaporous fumes. Something like vegetation remained here
– scattered stumps of petrified trees.
On one of the high rocks, a Zarbi, holding in control the humped shape of a venom grub, surveyed the scene below with its large, shining eyes.
A small army toiled beneath on the floor of the crater, watched by guards. They were felling the brittle, petrified tree trunks and breaking off the smaller mica stalagmites, chipping wearily away at them with heavy implements.
The workers were grimy and ragged. Their wings were dull