and submitted. ‘It pains me to say it, but I’m sorry I ever doubted you.’
She shivered, and the Doctor returned her jacket and placed it across her shoulders. ‘We all learn from our mistakes,’ he said drily.
Suddenly, swooping up from nowhere and adding to the already strong impression that the world was being torn apart about their ears, a wind - a real wind this time - rose in the nave. It came up out of silence to roar and howl, and hit the Doctor and Jane like a tidal wave. They staggered under the pressure - Jane would have lost her balance and been dashed to the floor had not the Doctor managed to hold on to her and push her upright again. The power of the wind took their breath away.
‘Now what?’ Jane gasped.
‘More psychic disturbance!’ the Doctor shouted above the howling of the wind. And then suddenly there was another thing to worry about: the Cavalier was almost upon them - he loomed up out of the noise and with a rasp of steel drew his sword.
The Doctor retreated, and dragged Jane with him.
‘It seems he intends to kill us!’ he gasped. ‘Make for the underground passage. Run!’
He pushed Jane in the direction of the vestry, and followed close behind her. As they ran up the church, the Malus roared again and lurched inside the wall. It was growing more powerful with every movement. Little by little, it was breaking free.
The trooper frogmarched the almost
unconscious Turlough across a deserted courtyard on the edge of the village. His left arm was locked so tightly around Turlough’s throat that his air supply was cut to almost nothing, and still he maintained the pressure which forced Turlough’s right hand high up between his shoulder blades. Turlough was in desperate straits.
The courtyard was seldom used and the hard earth had grassed over with weeds, over which the trooper now heaved Turlough towards a small, red-brick building at the other side. When they reached it he unbolted the door and threw him inside.
Turlough pitched headlong across the cement floor.For a moment he lay breathless and dizzy, sprawled lull length with his face in the dirt. He heard the door close and the bolt being drawn across, and the trooper’s feet march away.
Now, from his exceedingly limited viewpoint, Turlough looked across the flour. He saw a few bales of straw scattered about, and an oil drum. Apart from these the room appeared to be empty. Yet, as he lay regaining his senses, he could hear a soft shuffle of feet on the floor.
Then a shadow fell across his face.
Startled, Turlough looked up into the grizzled, un-shaven face of an elderly man. He wore twentieth-century clothes - a matter sufficient in itself to mark him as unusual. Turlough pushed himself up on to his elbows and looked at the man fearfully.
‘Don’t be afraid,’ the old man said. He knelt down beside Turlough and laid a hand on his shoulder.
Turlough felt easier now that he could sec him more clearly: with his baggy old tweed suit, crumpled shirt and tie, untidy hair and mild manner, he looked harmless enough.
Then he said, ‘I’m Andrew Verney.’ Turlough was looking into the face of Tegan’s grandfather.
Jane had run through the church and kept going at top speed through the vestry, down the steps and along the underground passage, but now she was having great trouble keeping pace with the Doctor. He seemed tireless.
She staggered around a bend into yet another gloomy stretch of tunnel. Now she could hardly see the floor, because the Doctor had the torch and he was pulling further ahead with every second.
‘Doctor!’ she panted. ‘Slow down! That thing isn’t following us.’
‘I need to speak to Sir George,’ the Doctor called over his shoulder.
‘Haven’t you got enough troubles?’
The Doctor stopped and waited for her to catch up. ‘Do you know anything about psychic energy?’ he asked urgently.
She shook her head. ‘You know I don’t.’
‘Then here’s a quick lesson.’ He tapped his
She shivered, and the Doctor returned her jacket and placed it across her shoulders. ‘We all learn from our mistakes,’ he said drily.
Suddenly, swooping up from nowhere and adding to the already strong impression that the world was being torn apart about their ears, a wind - a real wind this time - rose in the nave. It came up out of silence to roar and howl, and hit the Doctor and Jane like a tidal wave. They staggered under the pressure - Jane would have lost her balance and been dashed to the floor had not the Doctor managed to hold on to her and push her upright again. The power of the wind took their breath away.
‘Now what?’ Jane gasped.
‘More psychic disturbance!’ the Doctor shouted above the howling of the wind. And then suddenly there was another thing to worry about: the Cavalier was almost upon them - he loomed up out of the noise and with a rasp of steel drew his sword.
The Doctor retreated, and dragged Jane with him.
‘It seems he intends to kill us!’ he gasped. ‘Make for the underground passage. Run!’
He pushed Jane in the direction of the vestry, and followed close behind her. As they ran up the church, the Malus roared again and lurched inside the wall. It was growing more powerful with every movement. Little by little, it was breaking free.
The trooper frogmarched the almost
unconscious Turlough across a deserted courtyard on the edge of the village. His left arm was locked so tightly around Turlough’s throat that his air supply was cut to almost nothing, and still he maintained the pressure which forced Turlough’s right hand high up between his shoulder blades. Turlough was in desperate straits.
The courtyard was seldom used and the hard earth had grassed over with weeds, over which the trooper now heaved Turlough towards a small, red-brick building at the other side. When they reached it he unbolted the door and threw him inside.
Turlough pitched headlong across the cement floor.For a moment he lay breathless and dizzy, sprawled lull length with his face in the dirt. He heard the door close and the bolt being drawn across, and the trooper’s feet march away.
Now, from his exceedingly limited viewpoint, Turlough looked across the flour. He saw a few bales of straw scattered about, and an oil drum. Apart from these the room appeared to be empty. Yet, as he lay regaining his senses, he could hear a soft shuffle of feet on the floor.
Then a shadow fell across his face.
Startled, Turlough looked up into the grizzled, un-shaven face of an elderly man. He wore twentieth-century clothes - a matter sufficient in itself to mark him as unusual. Turlough pushed himself up on to his elbows and looked at the man fearfully.
‘Don’t be afraid,’ the old man said. He knelt down beside Turlough and laid a hand on his shoulder.
Turlough felt easier now that he could sec him more clearly: with his baggy old tweed suit, crumpled shirt and tie, untidy hair and mild manner, he looked harmless enough.
Then he said, ‘I’m Andrew Verney.’ Turlough was looking into the face of Tegan’s grandfather.
Jane had run through the church and kept going at top speed through the vestry, down the steps and along the underground passage, but now she was having great trouble keeping pace with the Doctor. He seemed tireless.
She staggered around a bend into yet another gloomy stretch of tunnel. Now she could hardly see the floor, because the Doctor had the torch and he was pulling further ahead with every second.
‘Doctor!’ she panted. ‘Slow down! That thing isn’t following us.’
‘I need to speak to Sir George,’ the Doctor called over his shoulder.
‘Haven’t you got enough troubles?’
The Doctor stopped and waited for her to catch up. ‘Do you know anything about psychic energy?’ he asked urgently.
She shook her head. ‘You know I don’t.’
‘Then here’s a quick lesson.’ He tapped his
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