'But, evacuate the whole town?' Brookes demanded. 'That's a huge undertaking, sir.'
'What do you suggest?' the Doctor's eyes were cold as he stared first at Captain Brookes, then at Colonel Wilson. 'Hang around for a bit to see if there really is a larger eruption? That will be too late.'
'We will need more evidence,' Wilson said. 'More than just your suspicions, Doctor.'
'Evidence?' The Doctor was incredulous. 'Evidence?!' he shouted, spreading his arms and spinning in a full circle. 'What more evidence do you need?'
'Colonel, the Doctor may well be right.' Stobbold's voice was as drawn as his face. It cracked, as if he were holding his emotions in uncertain check.
'I'm sorry, sir. But I need more than that.'
'Then what do you propose?' Stobbold asked.
Wilson considered. 'We'll try to keep everyone indoors. Anyone who wants to leave, may. We will help organise transport. I've already send a runner to Ambleton for more men.'
'We should be getting people out, not bringing them in,' the Doctor complained.
'So you say, Doctor. And you may be right.'
'But you won't know until it's too late,' he pointed out.
'I said I needed more evidence, Doctor. I don't intend to wait for the evidence to present itself.'
'What will you do?'
'I shall inspect the fissure myself,' Wilson said. 'I am an engineer. What I see may enable us to form an opinion. In forming that opinion. Doctor you may rest assured I shall take your own views your own emphatic views into account.'
'And then?' Stobbold asked.
'If I believe it is necessary, I shall evacuate the town as you suggest.'
'You're wasting time,' the Doctor told him. He was shaking his head in a mixture of sadness and disbelief.
'I cannot act just on your say*so, Doctor. Whatever happens, or doesn't happen. I shall need to justify my decision to my superior officers. To do that, I need first hand evidence.'
'But ' the Doctor began.
Stobbold put his hand on the Doctor's arm and interrupted. 'Then make all speed, Colonel. And good luck.'
'Thank you, sir.' Wilson turned to go, then hesitated. 'Where will you be, gentlemen? If I need you?'
Stobbold looked at the Doctor. 'Are we finished here? Do you have what you need?'
The Doctor nodded. 'Oh yes. I have what I need now for our meeting with Mr Nepath.'
A yellow fog hung over the landscape. Everything seemed tinged with its effects. The grey of the dust had become a pallid amber as Stobbold and the Doctor made their way up the drive to the Grange.
Stobbold headed for the front door. He was still dazed, numbed by the experiences of the night before. Inside he felt empty, as if his stomach had dropped away to leave a gaping void where his heart, his emotions, his very soul sank without trace.
The Doctor drew him aside as they approached. 'Not that way,' he said. 'Let's try round the back.'
'You intend to break in? Again?' Stobbold tried to sound censorious, but somehow his words were flat and noncommittal.
'Just a little look round. I like to start off at an advantage. With all the information.'
Stobbold forced a smile. 'Some would say that was cheating,' he said.
'Well, I think it's about time we made some of the running. Even if it does mean cheating, as you put it.' The Doctor swung round suddenly, his eyes alive with anger. 'Look,' he demanded, 'do you have a problem with this? If so, then kindly return to the Rectory and leave it to me.'
'No,' Stobbold said quickly. 'No problem. Doctor?' he added hesitantly.
'Yes?' The Doctor was off again, striding through the yellow mist, not glancing back.
'Whatever it takes, whatever we have to do, we must stop Nepath. I know that. After last night, after what happened to Betty...' His voice tailed off.
The Doctor paused, slowly turning to regard Stobbold with large, yellow*stained eyes.
'You were right, Doctor,' Stobbold said quietly. 'This evil must be fought. There is always a cost, and we have already paid too much. No more, please. No more.'
The Doctor stepped back towards him and clapped him on the shoulder. 'It is almost over now,' he said quietly. 'I promise you that. One way or another, things are almost done.'
The tradesman's entrance was unlocked. They let themselves in and stood for a moment in the gloom. The sun struggled with limited success to illuminate the house through misted windows.
The Doctor led the way in silence to the back staircase. Stobbold recalled Dobbs's description of the events of several nights previously. He felt a pang of fear but no twinge of conscience as they made their way up to the landing. That was good, he decided. Feeling. He was feeling again.
And more than anything, he realised, he was feeling angry. He did not rile easily, rarely lost his temper, but inside he could feel the raw emotion swelling up, ready to burst once given an outlet.
'Let's start in here,' the Doctor whispered and led Stobbold into a room at the top of the stairs.
The room was lined with display cases and cabinets. The Doctor closed the door quietly behind them and led Stobbold to a case on the far side of the room.
'These are the copies,' he said keeping his voice low. 'Made from the reforming material, from the stuff Nepath and Urton have been mining.'
'This stuff is alive?' Stobbold hissed. He peered into the cabinet, saw the various ornaments and figures. Some he recognised as religious figures and icons from his studies of the Eastern religions. At the back of the case stood Kali, swords raised, fire dancing round the figure's head. He blinked as one of the arms seemed to move slightly a trick of the misty light. Or of the moisture in his eyes.
'It is not life in the sense that you or I understand it,' the Doctor explained. 'Some sort of sentience, I'm sure. Nepath wants something from it and the substance is content to be used by him. For now. Until it gets what it wants.'
'Which is?
The Doctor shrugged, turning away from the cabinet. 'What does any living thing want?' he asked.
'Hope?' Stobbold suggested. 'Salvation? To believe in something, to have faith?'
'To survive,' the Doctor said.
Stobbold took a look back into the cabinet as he considered this. In that instant he saw the sword arm of Kali swipe down through the air as the figure took a lurching step forwards. Stobbold gave a cry of surprise and took a step backwards. The Doctor turned quickly at the sound.
The glass door of the cabinet shattered under the sword blow, sending a shower of glass slivers biting across Stobbold's face. He cried out again, hands raised to ward off the hailstorm.
When he looked, when he hesitantly lowered his hands, he saw that the statue was dissolving. The features were melting and running down the face, down the body. Like a candle burning away, rivulets of the materials were running down the sides and pooling at the feet. The other relics and artefacts were doing the same melting into viscous steaming pools of liquid.
The Doctor took a step back, pulling Stobbold with him. The pools of liquid were linking up, running into each other, bubbling. hissing, boiling. Hot splashes spat across the cabinet as the pools joined, massed into a larger pool a body of the glowing fiery liquid that seemed bigger than the parts that had formed it.
'Fascinating,' the Doctor said. There was real awe in his voice. 'Something is happening. It knows it is time... But time for what?'
The liquid seemed to bulge upwards and outwards, as if rearing up. It plunged out of the cabinet and splashed to the floor in front of them between them and the door where they had come in. Slowly, inexorably, it rolled towards them. The air above it shimmered in the intense heat. Stobbold could feel it on his face as they backed away, towards the corner of the room.
'I think we're in trouble,' he managed to say to the Doctor as the shapeless mass before them expanded again, pushing upwards, sprouting limbs of fire, shuffling forwards. For a second he saw his daughter's fiery form reflected in the shape it was adopting.
The Doctor's face was grim, his features illuminated by the red hot glow from the creature that was gathering itself for the attack. 'It's frustrating that we never seem to keep the initiative,' he sighed. 'And if we've we've got trouble,' he went on, 'I wonder what's happening in the mine.' got trouble,' he went on, 'I wonder what's happening in the mine.'
The shape in front of them exploded into flames and hurled itself forwards.
Wilson had left Captain Brookes in charge in Middletown and taken Sergeant Griffiths with him to the fissure. He was reluctant to take any of the other men with him there were few enough in any case. They could see no more than fifty yards in front of them through the misty gloom. It was worse than a London pea*souper.
They heard the sounds from the mine before they could see what was happening. Cries and screams broke through the fog. Both Wilson and Griffiths had seen active service. Both knew immediately that it was the sound of men in fear for their lives. Dying.
The first figures struggled through the mist in front of them, stumbling onwards as fast as their exhausted legs would carry them. One man fell close by and Griffiths ran to help him up. He was gibbering with fear, saliva speckling his dark beard. He said nothing, just tore free of the Sergeant and ran on.
'They're coming from the mine,' Wilson said as more men ran past. As he finished speaking another figure emerged into view, screaming, turning, twisting. His clothes were ablaze, the shape of his body hidden within the fiery mass. He collapsed before he reached the two soldiers. For several seconds the body writhed and convulsed on the ground. Then it was still and the flames continued to consume it.
Another figure was in sight now. A large, broad man. He approached them steadily, seemingly in less of a hurry than his work mates. Wilson recognised him as he drew closer, had seen him several times at church.
'My God, Devlin,' Wilson called to the mine foreman. 'What in Heaven's name is happening? Has there been an accident? Something caused by the eruption?'
'Can we help?' Griffiths asked, stepping closer.
Devlin's eyes seemed to burn through the fog as he regarded them. He was almost within reach of Griffiths now. There was something disconcerting about the man's measured gait, about the way he reached out, about the way his eyes seemed to shine with inner fire.
Too late, Wilson shouted at Griffiths to get away from Devlin. Too late, he ran forward to grab the sergeant and drag him back. Too late, he felt the explosive heat on his face as Devlin's hands erupted into flames and closed on Griffiths's neck.
The steam and smoke mingled with the fog. The smell of burning vied with the sulphurous fumes and Wilson watched transfixed as Griffiths's body blackened and burned. His screams and shouts choked off and he dropped, a charred amorphous mass, to the ground.
Devlin turned towards Wilson. His arms were ablaze. His face was illuminated by the light burning in his eyes. Behind him glowing, misformed figures of fire were lurching forwards to join him. The heat was indescribable, even before Devlin's face ignited and his whole body flared up into a huge flame. In moments he was the same glowing, molten mass. The vaguely human shapes rolled across the moorland leaving blackened trails and small fires behind them.
Wilson turned at last and ran for his life.
The Doctor shoved Stobbold aside as the ball of flame hurtled towards them. It splashed, liquid fire, against the wall where they had been.
But neither Stobbold nor the Doctor waited to see the creature reform and gather itself for another blistering charge. They were already running for the door. The Doctor ripped it open and again hurled Stobbold through into the passage outside. He slammed the door shut behind him, only for it to explode immediately into a mass of fire.
'So much for caution,' the Doctor shouted above the crackling of the burning wood. 'This way.'
'Where are we going?' Stobbold asked as he let himself be led at a run down the corridor, away from the stairs. His chest was heaving and his breath ragged. He was too old to run far. 'I thought we wanted to see Nepath.'
'He'll find us,' the Doctor snapped back and he pulled open a door and charged inside.
Stobbold was close behind him. The room was lit by the same misty yellow as the rest of the house. It was a very large room, apparently used for storage rather than display. There were tea chests and screwed up balls of newspaper between the wooden display cabinets. 'God's truth!' Stobbold exclaimed as he looked round. 'This is a tinderbox, Doctor.'
The Doctor skidded to a halt amongst the packing crates and looked around himself in apparent surprise. 'Yes, I suppose it is.' He glared across at Stobbold. 'So best not to hang around, wouldn't you agree, Reverend?'
'What?' He realised what the Doctor was saying and hurried across to join him. 'Oh yes.'
There was a door on the other side of the room, and the Doctor was waiting for Stobbold in front of it. 'This is it,' he said, raising his eyebrows, as if asking Stobbold if he was sure he wanted to continue.
Not that Stobbold had a lot of choice. He could hear the crackling of the fire along the corridor. How long before it came looking for them? How long before it found them? 'Best to take the bull by the horns, don't you think, Doctor?' His voice trembled as he spoke.
The Doctor smiled thinly. 'That's the spirit.' So saying, he opened the door and stepped through.
It was a small room by comparison. A single wall lamp was burning, but it was enough to illuminate the room. The curtains were drawn shut so that the air seemed clearer, without its yellowish tinge. The main furniture in the room was a tall, upright glass display cabinet. Despite the fact that the light was directly over it, was shining down into the cabinet, Stobbold could not see what was inside.
Roger Nepath and Lady Urton were standing in front of the cabinet.
Lady Urton's expression was fixed and staring a face of stone. Nepath, by contrast, seemed in good humour. He smiled broadly and extended his hand. 'Why Doctor, and the Reverend Stobbold. What a very pleasant surprise.'
Neither the Doctor nor Stobbold made any move to take his hand. Nepath lowered it.
'Actually, not such a surprise at all. Not even unexpected in fact.' Nepath's voice was hardening. He blinked, one side of his face convulsing suddenly and sharply with the movement.
Still neither of them spoke.
'So impolite,' Nepath said sternly. 'Hardly correct behaviour. Not when I have a deal to offer you. A bargain.'
'The sort of deal you have made with the creature in the mine?' the Doctor asked. His voice was low. But his expression was stern. 'You really think you can bargain with it?'
'Oh but I have. I am.' Nepath laughed and flung out his arms. 'I do.'
'You think think you do. It's an elemental force, Nepath. It doesn't distinguish between us, it doesn't think in any way we understand. All it does is burn. It consumes matter to sustain itself.' you do. It's an elemental force, Nepath. It doesn't distinguish between us, it doesn't think in any way we understand. All it does is burn. It consumes matter to sustain itself.'
'Oh, Doctor,' Nepath replied with a sigh. 'I had not thought you so naive. You do it a disservice, you know.'
'Do I?'
'Oh yes. Yes, indeed.' Nepath considered. He stroked his chin. 'You are so alike you know. You and the creature creature as you rather quaintly call it.' as you rather quaintly call it.'
'Alike?' The Doctor was scandalised. His lip curled. 'I hardly think so.'
'I know so much about you, Doctor,' Nepath said thoughtfully. 'So much that Betty told me, that she overheard or had relayed to me. God rest her soul.' He smiled thinly at Stobbold, who fought back his emotions. 'And you are right, the creature does not think as you and I. It just "is". It has no past that it is aware of. No memory of who or what it really is.' He was watching the Doctor intently.
Stobbold turned to watch the Doctor too. His face was a blank, as stony as Lady Urton's features.