Doctor Who_ The Zarbi - Bill Strutton [47]
Hetra spoke.
‘The decision has been reached,’ he announced in his high-pitched quaver. ‘Every creature who invades our domain comes only to prey on us. You are guilty..: He beckoned to his deputy. ‘Nemini...?’
The stunted creature called Nemini stepped forward.
His slitted eyes glittered as he surveyed both Ian and Vrestin. He clapped his hands and several guards seized the Earth man and the Menoptera. Nemini pointed to the smoking fissure over which the cauldron hung.
‘Throw them into the fire chasm!’
Ian threw off the hands that grabbed him, wheeled to face Hetra, and yelled, pointing at Vrestin, ‘This man is your own kind! Are you going to murder him?’
Nemini and the guards halted a moment, gaping, and looked to their leader. Hetra stared towards Vrestin who had drawn himself erect, staring contemptuously around him.
‘This stranger?’ Hetra said with scorn. He pointed upward. ‘You are both from that wilderness above ground, where the light blinds, the air chokes, where only destroyer races live, where none of us who has gone forth has ever returned.’ He levelled a shaking finger first at Ian, then at Vrestin. ‘You come foraging into our world only for new victims! Take them!’
As the guards leaped forward and overpowered them, Vrestin shouted.
‘Listen! The wilderness you speak of up there belongs to you! We are coming in our legions to free this planet of its killers – the Zarbi! It’s they who are your enemies...!’
But resist as he might, their tiny captors dragged Ian and Vrestin to the brink of the precipice, and as they stared down, the flames and molten glow from far below lit their faces.
The guards turned to await the signal from their leader
– but Hetra was frowning, puzzling over Vrestin’s words, gazing into a distance as if at a memory... or a vision. He held up a frail hand, and his narrow eyes sought Vrestin’s questioningly,
‘The... Zarbi...?’ Hetra quavered.
‘They seized this place fifty generations ago!’ Vrestin retorted. ‘They enslaved your forbears and mine who remained. They are spreading their poisonous web to every corner of Vortis!’
Nemini interrupted, waving an impatient hand. He turned a mistrustful glare on the two prisoners and shouted, pointing to the fire chasm, ‘As long as we deal with intruders thus, we are safe here! Come...!’
Ian rounded on him. ‘Can’t you understand? You are the Menoptera! Like him!’
He pointed at Vrestin and then checked. A sudden total hush had fallen. The eyes of the entire company of their captors had turned on him in awe.
Hetra broke the silence. ‘The... Menoptera?’ he asked.
Nemini glared. ‘You blaspheme! You are talking of our gods!’ he stormed, raising a spear.
‘Your gods?’ Vrestin echoed, astonished. ‘The Menoptera are your kinsmen!’ He reached out among their guards, now standing, stunned, like statues – and whirled one of them round with a thrust of his arm. He pointed at the stumps which sprouted from the creature’s narrow shoulders.
‘Your wings have withered on your bodies, while you crawled blindly underground like so many pupae. You were born to the greatest freedom of all creatures – to light, to beauty, and to peace!’
As these ringing words sunk in, their guards exchanged wondering glances, half-sensing the possibility that they might be the truth.
‘But...’ the aged Hetra protested feebly. ‘It is death... for us... up there...’
Vrestin gestured around him. ‘What is this place for you
– but a living death? This is not your element!’
As their captors now hesitated and muttered among themselves Ian shouted, ‘If you throw us into the fire chasm you destroy your own future!... and condemn yourselves to skulk down here forever!’
Nemini wheeled to challenge them both. ‘Prove what you say!’ he demanded.
Vrestin drew himself up, towering above their guards, staring haughtily around him.