Doctor Who_ The Hollow Men Part 38

'Jack plans to free the world,' said Long John, a confused look on his face.

'He plans to enslave enslave the world,' shouted the Doctor angrily. the world,' shouted the Doctor angrily.

'And you're all party to that.'

'But we did not know,' said Baber sadly.

'Well, you do now. now. So do something about it!' The noise in the courtroom rose to a crescendo as the Doctor ran back to the dock and stood on the dais addressing them all. 'The greatest evil in the universe isn't the monster from outer s.p.a.ce,' he said. 'It is the dark s.p.a.ce within us all. s.h.i.+ne a light on So do something about it!' The noise in the courtroom rose to a crescendo as the Doctor ran back to the dock and stood on the dais addressing them all. 'The greatest evil in the universe isn't the monster from outer s.p.a.ce,' he said. 'It is the dark s.p.a.ce within us all. s.h.i.+ne a light on that.' that.'

'We shall hear more,' noted the judge.

Ace shook her head groggily, momentarily aware of the loamy aroma of the soil beneath her. She pushed herself up on to her elbows, then managed to roll her protesting body away just as the alien limb impacted against the protesting earth.

The creature dipped beneath the ground for the last time, like a Jules Verne sea creature slipping below the heaving waves.

The quaking motion that rippled the field became less p.r.o.nounced as the alien creature retreated, or took stock, or did whatever alien blobs do when attacked by resourceful women bearing torches. Ace was about to let out a cry of delight when she remembered the scarecrows.

She got to her feet just as a pair of stickmen made a clumsy but effective grab at Joanna. The woman's scream was choked off by a fist of hay.

Ace hurled herself at the creatures, but they shrugged her aside with flailing arms that felt like pillars of concrete.

Implacable, they returned their attention to the older woman, their hands tightly pressed against her throat.

Joanna's skin was already overlaid with blue, her eyes bulging.

Before Ace could react, a third scarecrow lunged at her, knocking her to the ground.

The creature reached down, as if offering to help Ace to her feet. Then the musty hands covered her face, the harsh p.r.i.c.kles of straw pressing against her eyelids and into her nose and mouth.

And Jack threatened to engulf her utterly.

The Midnight Hunter reached down to pat the broad neck of the horse, drawing the last drops of patience from the snorting creature. The Hunter's grey eyes were fixed on the village, as fascinating a prospect as any quarry he had pursued. Centuries-old hands gripped the reins tightly, feeling the pent-up power of the horse, and of nature itself.

The force that invigorated the Hunter, that spurred on his followers, came up from the ground and out of the trees. The breath of life, as ancient as the creation of the world.

With the silence of a midsummer zephyr, the Wild Hunt began to gather behind their leader. First came the foxes, lithe darts of red, noses alive to the smell of the midday soil.

Then came the Yell Hounds, their breath like fire, their eyes glowing like metal daggers in a forge. Their claws bit deep into the earth, but left no mark. Finally all the creatures of the forest came. Stoats and weasels, badgers and deer, harvest mice and bats. Hawks flew overhead, calling out in joyous celebration, eyes alive with inspiration and desire. An owl settled on the Midnight Hunter's arm. Its eyes imparted all the information the old warrior needed.

He straightened the old metal helmet as if for war, and took a deep breath.

With a great cry, the Hunter spurred his horse, and the creatures swept as one down into the village.

The Wild Hunt, after centuries of rest, was resurrected.

Rebecca let out a piercing wail that could have been death or childbirth. Trevor's blood was like ice flowing through a long-dead body. Only his eyes were alive, watching the scene, transfixed.

Trevor saw Hatch return to his car. Moments later the politician was driving away, the engine note dwindling as the country lanes swallowed him up.

Rebecca pulled herself from the ground where she had fallen. There were flecks of mud on her face and dress, her forehead damp with sweat.

Her eyes were terrifyingly alive, reaching out to Trevor. As he struggled he became aware of the straw hands holding him in place, of the seat at his back, and the strewn splinters of gla.s.s that lay in his lap.

Rebecca walked towards the car, her mouth hanging open.

Saliva trailed down her chin. Her hands were outstretched, the blood-red nails sharpened, like claws.

With a shriek Rebecca pulled the scarecrows away, hurling them contemptuously to the ground. Her prize was Trevor.

She dragged him from the car by his hair, raking her fingers down his face. Cutting his eyebrows and lips.

Smas.h.i.+ng her small fist into his nose.

Her hands raked down again and again.

Steven Chen glanced over his shoulder. Three scarecrows were still in pursuit, scything through the cornfields like the shadow of sunset. Denman was struggling to keep up, his face red with exertion.

'Come on!' shouted Chen. 'They're right behind you.'

'I'll be OK,' said Denman, his breath coming in ragged bursts. 'You cut back and find that woman of yours. And Ace.'

Chen was about to protest when the policeman fell to his knees, his energy spent. Steven stared in horrified fascination as the first scarecrow reached Denman. The policeman's head snapped up and his eyes connected with Steven's, burrowing into his soul.

'Run!' screamed Denman, as arms of straw and corn fell upon him. screamed Denman, as arms of straw and corn fell upon him.

Suddenly the hands came away from her face, and Ace sucked in a whooping gasp of air.

The scarecrow staggered, batting feebly at the flames that tore at its chest and arms. Its cloth head smouldered, the brim of the floppy hat on fire. As it crashed into the ground a shower of sparks leapt into the air, glowing brightly in the sky.

Ace turned, wondering who had come to her rescue. She expected to see Steven Chen or Denman or one of the others.

Instead, standing some fifty yards away, was an archer. A quiver of impossibly burning arrows was slung from his belt.

The man was only partly visible, the line of a hedge running straight through him like a razor. He wore ancient clothing, dominated by an enormous bearskin that hung on his back like a cloak.

Ace shook her head. 'I've flipped,' she said, under her breath.

She glanced down at the scarecrow corpse. The creature seemed dead, but there was not a trace of the fire she had seen earlier.

Joanna appeared at her side. 'What happened?' she demanded.

'Haven't the foggiest,' admitted Ace. She looked back towards the archer, but he was gone.

The courtroom dissolved around the Doctor, scenes from the outside world scudding across the sky above him. He saw the ethereal hunters sweeping over the village, attacking the scarecrows. He cried out in delight as Ace was saved by a man with a longbow. Just for a moment there was silence across the land, interrupted only by the distant call of a woodc.o.c.k.

'It is the triumph of the human will,' the Doctor exclaimed.

Before him, only the judge was left in the barren wasteland that had once been a courtroom. But no trace of Jeffreys remained. The eyes, flaming like the burning scarecrows above them, told the Doctor that he was again in the presence of Jack i' the Green.

The Doctor pointed to the sky, awash with primal colours.

'Instead of using the dark legends which you made more terrifying - the wicker men, the pagan G.o.ds of the corn harvest - the villagers have called up the Wild Hunt. An ambiguous enough legend, not good, not evil, but moral. Just the sort of thing to slip past you, unnoticed.' The Doctor paused triumphantly. 'Your ancient victims are turning against you, Jack. Human souls cannot bear your form of reality. They'll be at the palace gates soon. You're under siege!'

Still Jack said nothing. The landscape changed again to the village green in the seventeenth century, surrounded by oak-beamed Tudor buildings. The people of the village stood around the edges of the green, shouting, their fists raised.

'You've lost, Jack,' said the Doctor. 'Their strength is too great. They are using the power of the land, the ley lines, the stone circles. Legends of G.o.d and man and nature. They're taking back what you stole from them over three hundred years ago.'

'Battle is not yet won,' said the judge suddenly. The Doctor looked up to find the court room re-forming around him.

Jack's eyes were glowing within a human face once more, a black cloth on his head. 'Thou hast been found guilty by this court. It is my duty to pa.s.s sentence. Dost thou have anything to say?'

'No,' said the Doctor, surprised. 'My mother always told me if I didn't have anything good to say about anyone, I shouldn't say anything at all.'

'The sentence of this court,' said the judge, 'is that thou shalt be taken to a place of execution, and there done to death. And may Jack have mercy upon thy soul. Take him.'

Guardsmen, with Jowett and Long John helping them, grabbed the Doctor and held him aloft, marching towards the green, at the centre of which a freshly dug pit glowed blood-red.

'Greetings.' The voice was as ancient as thunder, and caught Ace completely unawares. A huge armoured man on a horse had appeared a little way behind her. Owls and geese flew over his head, and foxes danced around the motionless hooves of the steed. like the archer, the man and his creatures were partly visible, as if only gently overlaid on reality.

'What the ' began Ace.

'I am the leader of the Wild Hunt. I have my freedom, and my instructions, which I chose to follow. Come with me.'

Ghost or not, Ace bristled at the man's patriarchal conceit.

'Why should I?'

The Hunter snorted, as if unused to dissent. His reply was to flick the reins of the horse - a big brute of a creature, more at home on a farm than a racecourse, thought Ace - and he swept down towards her.

The hooves pawed at ancient ground that was no longer there. Even so, the Hunter was swiftly at Ace's side. He reached down to pick her up, pulling her on to the saddle behind him.

Ace instinctively struggled against his grip, but there was little to kick against. His arm was broad and strong, but the moment she pushed against the hunter he became as substantial as a half-remembered breeze.

'Put me down!' she exclaimed, not used to being treated like this by anyone.

'Be not afeared,' p.r.o.nounced the man, as the horse swept high into the air.

'I'm not,' said Ace, through gritted teeth. 'And why are you leaving Joanna behind?'

The Hunter laughed. 'Because,' he said, 'you 'you do not show fear. You have been chosen.' do not show fear. You have been chosen.'

'Chosen?'

'There is work to do.'

Ace smiled for the first time. 'Wicked,' she said.

The landscape blurred beneath the ghostly horse. The view was certainly extraordinary, the village a hive of activity as scarecrows and hunters wheeled in combat.

Ace reached down to pat the flank of the horse, but only the faintest tingling reached her hands where the creature's flesh should be. Pale against the dark greens of the fields, the horse's skin was slick with sweat, and the smell p.r.i.c.kled at Ace's nostrils. If this was all an illusion, it was an extraordinarily convincing one.

Without thinking, she tried prodding the rider in the back, but her finger went right through the thick cloak and ancient armour.

'Oi,' she said loudly. 'Where are we going?'

'The centre of all things,' said the Hunter, as the horse began to plummet like an aeroplane hitting turbulence.