Doctor Who_ Eye Of Heaven Part 12

Now! I drew my knife, spun round and lunged. I kept my eyes closed. I didn't need them. I knew where my pursuer was, knew he was closing for the kill. Only when I felt a body smash into me did I open my eyes.

'Bring that chop back 'ere you misbegotten b.a.s.t.a.r.d son o' the devil!' devil!'

A child bounced off my legs, fell, the meat he had stolen falling to the ground. I stepped over the child, trying to keep my balance. A huge man with a ruddy face and arms as thick as the child's leg elbowed me aside as he ran past in pursuit. I ignored man and child. They were not important. Only my pursuer. By now people had seen I was holding a knife Some were pointing.

Then one shouted, 'Cutthroat! Take her down!' 'Cutthroat! Take her down!' It was him. My pursuer. It was him. My pursuer.

I turned to run, this time for real, and crashed into the burly man who had been chasing the child. I picked him up and threw him at a fruit stall. The stall owners took his place in front of me. They too had knives.

I stopped. The crowd hemmed me in. Someone threw some fruit.

Soggy flesh spattered the side of my face. I blinked. The crowd was closer now.

I s.h.i.+fted my knife to the killing grip. 'One more step and I'll make a 'One more step and I'll make a necklace of your entrails!' necklace of your entrails!'

A lump of wood hurled from the crowd flew towards me. I ducked.

Something smashed against my head. I whirled, felt my knife arm strike something warm and yielding. There was a scream. I screamed too. A hunter's scream - for all the good it did me.

Someone grabbed my leg. I kicked them away. More hands were all around me now. Screaming faces, fists, bits of wood, kicking feet. Pain bit at me like the

(hurting me eating me it's) teeth of starving horda. The last thing I saw before the crowd took me down was his smile. A killer's smile. He hadn't moved at all.

He hadn't needed to.

11.

Nightmares of the Sea

That night, bothered for the first time by the motion of the s.h.i.+p upon the chill water, I dreamed of Ennia, my sister.

In my dream I am a child, too young even to play. I know nothing of the hunt, or the rituals, the People, the Place of Land. All I know is that I am. And I am hungry. I am starving.

Mother's milk is gone now. She feeds me water from her fingers and grazer juice. It is not enough. I am growing. I am hungry. It is all I know. I cry out my selfish demands until Mother puts me outside in a crib made of branches and loose woven moss cloth. The crib hangs from the but roof. The motion interests me. For a while I forget I am hungry. I stare up at the clouds. Then I remember I am hungry. It hurts. I cry again.

Mother is sharpening blades for Sole, my father, to use during the next day's hunt. Outside the hut a clay pot steams: yesterday's bark moss still boiling down into soup. The smell makes me even hungrier.

I reach up for the clouds. They look soft, like flesh, like meat running with fat and protein. I think, if I can only catch one I can pull it down and eat it, stuff it into my mouth and appease the howling demands of my infant's belly.

Mother works hard at the grindstone, pumping the pedal that turns the stone. Sparks fall hissing into the water trough, which keeps them from setting light to the hut or nearby undergrowth.

I almost reach a cloud. It slips through my fingers, staying obstinately out of reach. I wail. Mother scolds me. Her voice and the grind of stone against metal become one. My fingers flap angrily at the cloud.

Then the white cloud turns dark.

Something hangs from the roof of the hut.

It drops into the crib.

I am frightened. I wail louder. Mother just scolds me.

Another darkly glistening thing drops into the crib. I feel them crawling on me. I see them move, see the scaly backs and glittering eyes watching me.

They are horda.

They are hungry too.

I feel the crib begin to rock. More are coming. One is on my arm. I feel pain that makes my hunger seem insignificant. I scream. Mother scolds me. Another horda attaches itself to my leg. Another to my face. The crib rocks. I scream.

All I ever know in my short life is pain.

In my dream I am also my mother. Neela. Home-maker. Hearth-tender.

Lover of Sole, my father. And I am hungry too. The hunt has returned for the last nine-day with nothing but scratchings: tree-skippers and bark moss for boiling into soup. The Sevateem are starving.

Now mother watches horrified: the crib is wriggling. No. The crib is not wriggling - the horda. The horda are wriggling, they're wriggling and feeding, they're eating they're eating the child - And then I am moving, reaching for Sole's knife, slas.h.i.+ng at the first layer of glistening beasts, grabbing them and peeling them away from the crib and stamping them flat or throwing them on to the fire. They scream and die at the touch of flame, and I scream with them. I scream in bloodl.u.s.t, in horror at the feel of their bodies crunching beneath my feet, in guilt because I did not respond sooner; I scream to drown out the sound of my dying child.

The horda are on me now. How many? I cannot tell. More than I have ever seen. I can feel their many legs and clinging teeth. I have no thought for my own death. The knife blurs until I am running with horda juice and blood. The stink of dead horda and the worse stink of live horda fills my nose, my head. I go mad.

I become the knife.

When I wake from the madness Sole is holding me. His arm is slashed where I have cut him with his own knife. I drop the knife. I wail. The child. The child. I look into the crib. Dead horda carpet the basket, the cloth is running with blood. More horda lie stamped, crushed into the ground around the hut. Hundreds of them. I have killed hundreds of them. But there were more. And they took the child. They took the meat of her, the life of her, and they left only bones and sc.r.a.ps.

Sole says nothing. That afternoon the hunt sets out again, this time with fire. They do not come back for a nine-day. The stench of burning lasts for days.

All I know for the rest of my life is pain.

I awoke curled into a tight ball on the quarterdeck. I had taken to sleeping outside since the weather had become warmer. I liked the feel of the air on my face as I slept. I could smell everything - and I had room to fight or run if I was threatened.

I woke instantly, the dream banished to the place where night demons go. I knew straight away that something was wrong. The motion of the deck was wrong. A moment later a cry from the crow's nest told me I was right.

'Thar she blows!'

A second cry rose to join the first. 'Where away?'

'Two points off the starb'd bow!'

I ran to the rail, ducking beneath the spanker to reach the other side of the deck. I stared out to sea. This land had only one moon but it was big and bright, and it lit the water like many candles. I grabbed the rail, straining to look out from the s.h.i.+p. Something moved nearby in the water.

Something broke the surface with a gush of spray. It was huge and the spray stank of salt and the inside of animals, and stung where it touched me. I fell backwards. An animal! But I had never seen one so large. It was nearly a third as long as Tweed Tweed and I could not tell how deep. The s.h.i.+p tilted, the spanker snapped its lanyard and whirled out of control. I ducked just enough to allow the boom to pa.s.s over my head and stood again. I heard men running on to the decks to secure the boom but I ignored them. I wanted to watch this living island. and I could not tell how deep. The s.h.i.+p tilted, the spanker snapped its lanyard and whirled out of control. I ducked just enough to allow the boom to pa.s.s over my head and stood again. I heard men running on to the decks to secure the boom but I ignored them. I wanted to watch this living island.

For I realised it was not one creature but two, and they were locked in a fight to the death.

I felt a presence beside me. Royston. 'Sailors call them the nightmares of the sea.' There was admiration in his voice. He braced himself against the motion of the deck and held his hat down against his head. I felt his gaze on me for a brief moment. 'Bad dreams?'

'I dream of death and now death visits itself upon us.'

'They're not interested in us. When Captain Stuart gets us under way we'll have a magnificent view.'

Ignoring Royston, I watched the animals. One seemed to be a ma.s.s of writhing tentacles which had all but engulfed the ma.s.sive head of the other. In return the first had an enormous mouth clamped firmly about part of the tentacled animal and seemed to be intent on eating as much of it as it could. Huge fountains of water burst into the air. I saw many smaller animals cutting the water with black fins circling the fighters, repeatedly approaching, biting, retreating, torn streamers of flesh gripped in wide mouths. The water, already alive with glowing plankton, now dimmed with a stain of blood.

'What are they?'

'The big black animal is a sperm whale. The one with tentacles is called a squid. The smaller fish are called sharks.'

'Why do they fight?'

'Why does anything fight?'

I remembered my dream. 'To eat. To survive.'

Royston said nothing. He seemed content to merely observe, and I watched with him. Behind me the s.h.i.+p's bell clanged, a call to decks. The entire crew swarmed into the rigging at the Captain's orders. The sails were set. Tweed Tweed hauled to port, straining into the wind to gain distance from the creatures. hauled to port, straining into the wind to gain distance from the creatures.

'Why did you help Richards? Why did you save Stump's life?' I made sure Royston could hear my voice above the clamour on decks and the commotion of the creatures locked in their death embrace.

I knew Royston had heard my question. For a moment he did not reply.

I turned to look at him 'I could force you to answer.'

'I know.'

'I do not understand. You say you are Stockwood's friend and yet you skulk around below decks like a rat with his enemies!'

Royston turned to me, temporarily ignoring the commotion to sea. 'I am a doctor, Leela. My job is to preserve life.' He thought for a moment.

'You and I, we are not like animals, not like the whale and the squid.

They come into each other's ambit and they attack. The fight is to the death, no quarter asked and none given. Animals. Animal behaviour. We are people. More sophisticated, more intelligent. We have morals and duties and choices. We can change our minds, we can balance judgements, weigh up greater and lesser evils.'

I scowled angrily. 'I think the animal way is better. You kill your enemies or your enemies kill you. Either way there are no questions or judgements or choices. Life is simple.'

'Life is not not simple, Leela. Surely you see that?' simple, Leela. Surely you see that?'

'I do not.'

Royston sighed. 'Then understand this: I offered Richards money to put us ash.o.r.e. I did this to save Horace's life. The situation is not as black and white as you perceive. She refused to put us ash.o.r.e. Now, I have no loyalty to Richards. But I thought to buy her cooperation by attempting to heal her man. Stump was injured as we left Portsmouth. He was shot. He took three bullets. The wounds were deep and became infected. The men spotted him clinging to a rope. He'd been dragged into the s.h.i.+p's wake. He'd tied himself on to stop from drowning. He was in the water for ten hours. He was close to death for many days. I treated him as best I could. I healed his body but his mind... that was another thing. It was broken by his experience. I hoped to heal that too, in time, but now... I do not know where he got the pistol from. I suppose Richards supplied him with it. We kept him locked in his cabin to protect him from you. Do you understand that?' that?'

I felt anger move inside me. I gripped the rail so I would not gut this annoyance where he stood and pitch him over the side to be food for the sharks. 'I understand death. Death comes when there is no food or medicines. Death comes when you are stupid or careless, or when you are unlucky. Stump was lucky to live so long. And you - you wasted your time and medicines on a man who did not deserve them.'

Royston was about to reply when the s.h.i.+p gave a sudden heave.

Despite all sails, the whale and squid had breached even closer to the s.h.i.+p.

A huge wave smacked against the hull, drenching both of us. I could hear the animals now. A noise I had never heard before. A sigh. A scream. The sound of tearing flesh as a severed tentacle flopped back into the water. Waves beat against the animals. Sharks beat against the waves.

More than I could count, their backs and bellies and fins gleaming like metal in the moonlight.

The s.h.i.+p gave another lurch. This time there was a terrible crunching noise as the whale sc.r.a.ped along the hull. The s.h.i.+p tipped to port.

Royston fell against me and we both slid across the sopping deck, beneath the spanker boom. Royston gave a shout as he fetched up against the port deck rail. A moment later I hit him and grabbed the rail.

'Be still! Hold the rail or we will both go overboard!'

He gasped something I didn't hear. I didn't hear it because at that moment the s.h.i.+p righted itself and we were hurled back across the deck to fetch up with a shout against the starboard deck rail. A hatch cover broke loose and surged across the wet deck towards us. I grabbed Royston and threw him aside, then jumped as the hatch cover smashed into the deck rail. The rail snapped with a terrible screech of torn wood and then I was falling. I caught a glimpse of someone falling beside me. A moment later there was the sensation of being kicked hard by something very large and angry. And wet.

I was in the water, with Royston.