Doctor Who: The Awakening by Eric Pringle

nave made him spin round, and he saw again the man who had knocked him down in the street – the strange, hooded figure with his devastated face.
    He stood beside the archway leading to the crypt, watching them and holding Tegan’s scarlet handbag clutched to his chest.
    ‘So there you are,’ the Doctor breathed.
    The man moved suddenly. He came forward, out of the archway, painfully dragging one foot. The Doctor discounted the limp now, for despite being lame this fellow possessed an astonishing turn of speed. The man paused again. He regarded them with his single eye and a stern expression, and as the Doctor looked at him, a light which had been flickering deep inside his eye zoomed suddenly to the surface.
    With a shock of horror Jane saw it come right out, breaking out into the air and shattering into fragments, like stars. These too divided into points of light which moved around the man’s head and shimmered and twinkled in a constantly changing pattern. ‘Who’s that?’
    she breathed, and backed away.
    ‘A psychic projection,’ the Doctor explained cryptically.
    He was on his feet and moving swiftly across to her. ‘Over here, Will,’ he called. His tone was quietly urgent; Will needed no second telling but ran quickly to the Doctor’s side. He stood close beside him, watching the man and the flickering lights, and he was quite ready to run right out of the church, and the village too. It seemed to Will that suddenly there was not a single thing which had not got quite beyond him.
    Jane looked intently at the man: how could something so solid be a projection? ‘He looks so real,’ she whispered.
    ‘To all intents and purposes he is real,’ the Doctor replied, but before Jane could argue further the nave was filled with a sound like a wind blowing through from the fields outside. It rose all about them as the man stared in their direction, yet it was not a wind at all. As the light had done, the noise broke into fragments. Splinters of sound stabbed at them from all directions – and they were sounds of battle.
    There were trumpets, and fifes and drums. There were guns firing and people shouting; horses squealed with pain. Will started to shake. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. Terrified, he looked up at the Doctor for comfort and reassurance. ‘I heard that before,’ he cried. ‘Battle’s cumin’!’
    And before the Doctor could give him the reassurance he so desperately needed, Will cracked. He ran, driven by an all-consuming fear, scuttling to the door at the back of the church as fast as his legs would carry him. The Doctor shouted, ‘No, Will! Come back!’ but Will took no notice.
    He dragged the door open and looked back at them for an instant. ‘I’s not goin’ to war again!’ he wailed.
    The noise of battle boomed through the church.
    Harness jingled, men screamed. The half-blind man glowered with his single staring eye and a pattern of lights shimmered around and through him. It was too much for anybody to stand. ‘No!’ Will shouted at the top of his voice, and then he was gone.
    The lights were now dancing all around the half blind man. They circled, they writhed like snakes, they built up into a dazzling display. Standing beside the Doctor, Jane was mesmerised by them. Then she caught her breath, unable to believe her eyes, for the figure behind the lights dimmed and then faded away completely. In his place, the image of a soldier appeared and hardened into reality.
    He was grey as death. His stance was arrogant and threatening – his right hand rested on his hip and his left gripped the hilt of his sword. His clothes were all grey, as if drained of colour, and his broad hat with its plumed leather was grey too; the skin of his face was pallid and grey-white like parchment.
    He stood there, a big, threatening man, watching them from dead eyes.
    From the moment he had separated from Tegan, when the horsemen caught up with them, Turlough had been on the run in the