Turlough trudged over damp, dewy grass, surrounded by a mass of soldiers. They had not yet joined the other two groups; this would occur within the next half hour, Rundly had told the men. Rundly's attention had been less focused on Turlough since they had left the camp. The soldier spent a great deal of time conferring with the other division leaders, obviously trying to impress them with his tales of victory and bravado. The other soldiers were clearly thinking about the upcoming battle, discussing it with each other with nervous excitement.
Much to his surprise, Turlough suddenly found himself at the edge of the group, and a quick glance at his associates showed that no eyes were upon him at the moment. A dense copse of evergreens was only a few feet to his right. Turlough stepped to the side swiftly then slipped between two trees. He paused for several seconds to listen for any changes in conversation or tone, but the men's voices retained their rhythm. It seemed that no one had noticed his departure. Turlough took a deep breath and began to run.
He dashed away from the soldiers, hoping to head back toward the area where they had camped. Turlough's feet pounded over the soft earth, and within a short time his breath came in gasps, but he continued to run. He could not get far enough away from Rundly and the Kingsmen.
After a few minutes he paused, panting with his unaccustomed exertion. He bent to rest his hands against his knees, breathing deeply for a few moments. A small snap behind him caught his attention, and Turlough began to straighten and turn. However, a hand flashed suddenly past his head and clamped over his mouth. An arm locked over his chest to pin his arms securely and firmly to his sides.
Turlough struggled, trying to stamp at his attacker's feet and wriggle free of the man's iron grip. The voice he heard, however, immediately arrested his efforts.
"Turlough?" came a familiar query.
The hand dropped from his mouth, and his arms were released. Turlough spun around to find the Doctor standing behind him.
"Doctor!" he exclaimed with considerable relief.
The Doctor shook Turlough's hand with a warm smile, quickly surveying his companion as he did. Turlough appeared fatigued, and a cut bisected his chin. An angry purple bruise stood out against the fair skin beneath his right eye as well, but the Time Lord could see no signs of serious damage.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
Turlough nodded. "Better now that I've gotten away from them."
"The Kingsmen had you?"
"Yes. They kept close watch on me until just now. They were distracted by the battle they're planning, and I was able to get away."
"Were they aware of your escape?"
"I'm not sure. I don't think so—they'd probably have come after me if they were."
The Doctor's smile faded. "I'm afraid that you'll have to go back."
"Go back? What for?" Turlough asked with some alarm.
The Doctor's expression had grown somber. "The Kingsmen are planning a massive attack against the Briars, which I believe you know. They outnumber the Briars at least three to one. The Briars know about the attack, but their men are weak. There is very little chance of a victory for them if they have to fight the entire group."
"You've been with the Briars?"
The Doctor nodded. "Yes. Tegan is still at their base camp. Turlough, if the Briars lose this battle, their commander will surely be captured or killed, and they will lose the war. If this happens, the king will force the Briars to serve him. This would lead to a dictatorship at best, and the ruin of the entire planet at worst. The king and his loyalists have no good will toward the Briars—including the women and children. From everything I've seen and heard, they are a violent, dissolute bunch "
Turlough touched his bruised cheek. "I know."
"My running into you here was a very fortunate coincidence. I had planned to take a tunic from one of the Kingsmen and slip into their ranks, but now you can do it."
"Why?" asked Turlough, clearly dreading facing the soldiers again.
"The Briars will have a chance if the King's forces are weakened. You've been with them for some time; they recognize you." He held up a small leather flask. Turlough saw now that two others hung at his side. "You must put the contents of this into their drinking water."
"What is it?"
"It's a derivative of glycoside, a rather nasty poison found in abundance in berries here."
"Poison? Doctor, you're not planning to kill them?"
The Doctor appeared mildly offended. "Kill them? Turlough, you should know me better than that. This will simply make them ill, and it may leave some unconscious, but unless someone were to ingest the entire contents of this flask, there's no danger of permanent damage."
"And if I were able to put that into the water, just how would I get them to drink it? When they're marching they don't stop for refreshments."
"Then we shall have to do something to make them thirsty. This should do the trick." The Doctor produced a cloth bag from his pocket and held it out.
Turlough took the bag and prepared to open it, but the Doctor said, "I wouldn't do that right now."
"What's in it?"
"Do you remember those leaves that caused us to cough shortly after we arrived here? I've made a fine powder from them, which I'll sprinkle in the soldiers' path. Once they step on it, the crystals will float upward and be inhaled, which will cause coughing and lead to water consumption."
"So you're saying that I have to go back to the Kingsmen then somehow pour that," he pointed at one of the flasks, "into their water, without anyone noticing?"
"Exactly!"
"And just how many soldiers will have to drink this?"
"As many as possible. If we can thin their ranks by a third, the Briars will have a chance."
"There are two other groups coming in from other directions. Thinning the Briars by a third would mean I'd need to pour this into all of the water buckets in the group I was with."
"Yes, I imagine it does."
"What about the other two groups?"
The Doctor's mouth twitched upward slightly. "They will have to be dealt with, too. Well, you'd better get going. You have quite a job ahead of you.'
"And where are you going?"
"To attend to this." He took the bag of powder from Turlough and transferred the three flasks to the young man's hands then began to walk away.
"Wait, Doctor! How will I find you again?"
The Doctor stopped and turned around. "I'll be with the Briars." His expression had become serious again. "Tegan will be in the large tent in the center of the camp. If you do not see me immediately, get her and take her away from the battle as quickly as you can."
"Where will you be?" Turlough asked with growing apprehension.
"In a battle, it's difficult to know what will happen." The Doctor looked toward the sky, apparently distracted for a moment. When he returned his gaze to Turlough, he added, "Just take Tegan away, in the direction opposite from the mountains. That will lead you toward the TARDIS."
"All right," Turlough said warily.
"And Turlough," added the Doctor, "Tegan is not herself right now. She will need your help to get away."
"Not herself? What do you mean?"
"I don't have time to explain now. Just know that it is crucial that you take her as far away from other people as you can. If you can get her to the TARDIS, do so. And be careful." The Doctor turned and hurried away, calling over his shoulder, "Oh, and cover your mouth and nose when the others begin to cough."
Turlough stood for several seconds in mild confusion. He considered seriously making a run for the TARDIS. At least he would be safe there… The thought of facing Rundly again was unnerving, to say the least. Yet the Doctor had entrusted him with this critical task, and then with Tegan's safety. After another minute of hesitation, Turlough walked away.
----------
Tegan lay on the soft mattress of skins, covered with a warm blanket. Outside the tent, the camp was bustling with frantic activity as the soldiers prepared for the attack. Swords and daggers were sharpened; archers readied their bows and arrows and climbed into position in the trees and on the rocky ledges; some men knelt to utter a final prayer.
Inside the tent, Lord Pannon conferred with several advisors. Their voices rose as impassioned ideas were shared and hopes buoyed with the possibility of success. Strategies were discussed then discarded in favor of better plans. A cook entered once and brought the men food, but they did not touch it; they were too preoccupied to think of eating.
Amid the flurry, Tegan lay motionless. The gentle, slow rise and fall of her chest was the only subtle sign of life surrounding her. Indeed, she was senseless to all around her. She slept heavily, deeply, and dreamlessly. The apothecary's potion had plummeted her into the depths of unconsciousness, and her mind was finally blank.
Lord Pannon and his colleagues paid little attention to the slumbering young woman. Indeed, as they became more immersed in their discussions, she was all but forgotten.
----------
The Doctor had sprinted ahead of the marching Kingsmen to stand on a rise and survey their progress. He could see the group moving forward. If they kept to their path, they would surely cross the area directly in front of him. He scrambled down the bank and took the pouch from his pocket.
Carefully he tipped the bag, bending to pour a thin line of powder across the open area. When he finally straightened, he had left a line nearly five meters long. Fortunately the powder was barely visible against the brown earth. He hastened forward and poured a second line a short distance ahead.
A faint rumble drew his attention to the sky. With some alarm, he saw that dark clouds were building in the distance. Rain would wash away the powder, which would ruin the entire plan. The storm was still several kilometers away, however. The Doctor hoped fiercely that it would hold off until the soldiers had marched along this path.
With a shake of his head, the Time Lord began to walk away.
----------
Turlough edged closer to the marching soldiers, keeping in the shadow of the trees until the group was only a few meters away from him. He waited until the men had nearly passed then slipped out of the forest and walked casually toward the last man.
The soldier turned to stare at him with a scowl. "Where'd you come from?" he asked.
Turlough pointed toward the brush with his thumb. "Had to step out for a minute. I'm with Rundly's bunch."
"Rundly? Oh, right."
The soldier seemed to have little interest in Turlough, so the Trion native quickened his pace to worm his way back toward the center of the troops, where he knew the water bearers were. He held one of the flasks in his hand, dangling at his side as unobtrusively as possible. Fortunately the sleeves of his tunic were long, and he was able to keep the flask partially hidden .
After a few minutes he spotted one of the soldiers who walked with a yoke across his shoulders. Dangling from the wide wooden bar were two large buckets of water. Turlough had learned that, despite the lush vegetation, water sources were sporadic in this section of the planet, so water was collected whenever possible and carried until needed.
Turlough sidled toward the buckets, already working the stopper from the flask. As he passed the bucket on the bearer's left, he grasped the rope that held it, saying, "Steady there. You're tipping a bit."
As he spoke, he quickly tilted the flask over the water, permitting a small stream to fall into the bucket. He slipped the flask back under his sleeve as the man turned his head to look with a grunt of acknowledgment.
"Let me check this side," Turlough said, moving toward the second bucket. "The rope looks a bit loose."
With another swift motion he poured some more of the potion into the bucket, glancing furtively around to be certain that no one had witnessed his actions. When he lowered his arm he found that his hand was shaking, but he had managed to add the liquid to the water. The first part of his task was complete. He walked ahead to find the next water bearer.
By the time he had made it to the center of the throng, Turlough had added the potion to six of the water buckets supplying this group. He still had six more to go. He moved forward once again.
A hand on his shoulder arrested his progress. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" demanded Rundly. The man seemed to appear from nowhere, or perhaps Turlough had simply been too preoccupied to notice him.
"I'm trying to keep up," Turlough stammered, suddenly nervous that his actions had been seen.
Rundly scowled. "Where have you been?"
"I'm not used to this sort of pace. I fell a little behind," he replied, trying to shift the flask he held upward, more fully under his sleeve. He had dropped the empty first flask, and the third was tucked into his waistband beneath his tunic.
Rundly caught the movement of his hand and gripped his wrist fiercely, bringing it up to see the flask clasped in the young man's fingers.
"What's this?" Rundly asked suspiciously as his fingers tightened and twisted over Turlough's skin.
Turlough forced himself not to cry out in pain. Instead, he said calmly, "I found it back there. Someone must have dropped it."
Rundly snatched the flask and pulled out the stopper. He sniffed the contents then recoiled slightly. "It's gone bad."
He tossed the container aside. Turlough watched as it landed on the ground and was trampled immediately by several soldiers. The liquid splashed out and seeped into the earth.
"I already warned you about keeping up," Rundly was saying caustically. "This is your last chance. If I see you behind again you'll be our first casualty of this battle." He tapped his dagger against Turlough's chest, then pressed it forward until the Trion winced at the sharp blade piercing his skin.
Rundly pulled the dagger back and shoved it into his belt. "Move!" The soldier gave Turlough a hard shove as a few drops of blood began to seep over his tunic.
Turlough hurried forward, distressed at the loss of the precious liquid and growing desperate at the thought that he might be prevented from adding the final flask to at least a few more buckets. The Doctor had said that, at a minimum, two-thirds of the troops had to be affected…
Once again Turlough considered making a run for the woods, but if Rundly caught him, he was certain that the dagger would do more than merely prick his skin. Turlough continued walking with the soldiers, already eyeing the boy carrying buckets up ahead. Surely his best chance was to disable the soldiers in the hopes of diminishing the battle.
----------
As the group of soldiers approached the first line of powder, the Doctor watched anxiously from the shelter of a large bush fifty meters away. He had been fairly certain that the troop's path would cross the critical area, but he had been less certain of the weather. Clouds had built steadily for the last half hour, their undersides heavy and dark with rain. A clap of thunder caused him to flinch. He looked upward, expecting the see drops of water falling, but instead he found that the sky had only grown darker.
The Doctor trusted that Turlough had completed his task; it should have been a relatively simple matter.
When the first soldiers stepped across the line and began to cough, the Doctor nodded in satisfaction and hurried away toward the Briars' camp.
----------
Turlough had managed to add the potion to another two buckets. There were two more water bearers ahead, so he wove through the soldiers to approach his target. He held the last flask in his shaking hand.
He had found that the ruse of checking the ropes on the buckets worked well enough. He could place a hand on the edge of the rope with the pretext of steadying it then turn the flask quickly to spill a few drops into the water. This ploy had been successful half a dozen times already. Now more than half of the water was affected. Since he had lost the one flask, he had debated whether to add less of the potion to each bucket but still lace all of the water, or simply to ignore the final sets of the buckets in favor of a generous splash in all of the others. He did not know how much of the liquid was optimal to create the desired effects, but he finally decided that definitely incapacitating two-thirds of the group was better than only possibly affecting all of them.
Turlough reached the water bearer and lifted his hand toward the bucket. He gripped the flask with his thumb as he tilted his hand over the water.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" an angry voice demanded.
Turlough turned with a pounding heart, expecting to see Rundly with his dagger drawn. Instead he found Dran next to him. The soldier reached for Turlough's hand.
"The rope looked loose—" Turlough began. A commotion up ahead drew his interrogator's attention away for a few seconds. Turlough quickly poured liquid into the first bucket before Dran turned back around. The bearer was focused on the disturbance in the forward ranks and did not notice Turlough's actions.
When Rundly's colleague turned back to Turlough, he grabbed the young man's arm, pushing back the sleeve to expose the flask completely. "What's this?" he asked.
"It's a flask," Turlough replied tartly. "I get thirsty."
"Well, no one dips into the water unless we all do." He took the flask from Turlough and shook it. The liquid sloshed against the sides. "You were filling this, weren't you?" he accused hotly.
"No, I got that somewhere else."
"Where? We haven't been near any streams since you joined us."
"I had it before—"
Dran removed the stopper and poured the contents into the bucket. "Well, it's all of ours now."
Turlough's eyes widened as he watched the liquid form a cloud in the water then dissipate quickly. Dran tossed the flask aside, saying, "Rundly wants all of us up there with him. Come on."
Turlough glanced again at the bucket, recalling that too much of the potion could prove fatal. He could probably spill most of the contents, but he knew such an action would bring him considerable unwanted attention.
"Come on!" Dran took Turlough's arm and jerked him forward.
Turlough's decision was made.
---------
The rain began to fall lightly as the Doctor made his way back to the Briars' camp. By the time he had ducked inside Pannon's tent, large drops were splashing on the dry ground. Mutters of consternation could be heard from the soldiers who were preparing to fight.
Lord Pannon stood with several other men in the center of the tent. They were involved in a heated discussion and barely acknowledged the entrance of their visitor. The Doctor waited patiently for perhaps half a minute then cleared his throat loudly during a brief pause in the conversation.
"Oh, Doctor," said Pannon, nodding to his guest. "I hope you've returned to tell me of your success."
"Well," began the Time Lord, "I did place the powder in the Kingsmen's path, and I believe that the glycoside has been added to their water supply. However, I don't know what effect this rain will have. If the majority of the soldiers have already crossed the powder, then their ranks should be thinning as we speak. But if they did not continue to move forward after the first group crossed the line, then I'm afraid this rain will wash away our hopes of disabling a good portion of the men."
Pannon shook his head. "Did you see any of them crossing the line?"
"Yes. I waited until I was certain that those at the front would step on the powder. I hesitated to remain much longer; I know there is more preparation to do here."
Pannon nodded. "Yes, there is. The archers are preparing, and the other men are nearly ready. But I know Narreck and his assistants could use some help to finish their project. Would you mind?"
"Of course," said the Doctor, turning back toward the tent flap. He hesitated for a moment, then glanced toward the floor. "How is she?" he asked, watching Tegan for a few seconds. She was quite still.
Pannon looked at the young woman. "She hasn't stirred."
"Good. She needs the rest. If she should begin to wake, please send someone for me."
"Yes, of course. And when the Kingsmen come?"
"She must be taken away from here, as far as possible. I will return for her if I can. If I cannot, a young man named Turlough will come for her. But Lord Pannon, if for some reason neither he nor I come, I must ask that you arrange for someone to remove her from the battle zone."
"I'll see to it."
"Thank you."
The Doctor exited the tent and strode quickly through the pouring rain toward Narreck's tent. He knew that the Kingsmen would arrive in a matter of minutes, and he hoped that the Briars would be prepared fully for this onslaught. Even with some of the men incapacitated, it could still be a fierce and bloody fight. He hurried into the tent to provide whatever assistance he could with the apothecary's crucial work.
----------
Rundly had led his group with aggressive intensity toward the front of the forces. Turlough was impelled forward by the throng of men, prodded occasionally by Rundly's glares. Now they were marching down a slight incline. Ahead Turlough could see vague outlines of tents through the steady rain. His heart pounded fiercely as he realized that the Briars' camp was merely meters away.
Turlough's breath caught in his throat. If they were that close to the camp, surely the soldiers at the head of the group had crossed the line of powder. It was difficult to see clearly through the rain and men surrounding him.
"There they are!" Rundly shouted above the drum of the downpour. "Forward, and attack!"
Turlough felt himself pushed forward, moving helplessly with the hundreds of soldiers around him. His spirits sank at the strength of the group. Had no one consumed the water? Surely those who had would be ill by now. Had the showers washed away the powder?
The men stormed through the mud and rain, drawing their swords and daggers in anticipation of the battle. Turlough was drenched and chilled through. He was beginning to feel numb, both physically and mentally. The Doctor's plan had failed. Perhaps it was the rain—it must have washed away the powder. There was no hope for the Briars now. Turlough's chest felt tight, and his eyes prickled hotly.
He blinked. Suddenly he realized that the men had slowed their pace. He heard angry voices to his left, drawing nearer and growing louder. He strained to hear the words.
"…collapsed with stomach pains… coughing first."
"…ill… dozens of them."
"… something they ate?"
"… maybe something they drank."
A man near Turlough asked loudly, "What's going on?"
Another soldier, several meters to his left, replied, "The men in the front are sick. They're doubled over with stomach pains, and some have passed out. They may have been poisoned."
Turlough felt cold, and he realized that his entire body was shaking.
"Poisoned?" another man asked. "How?"
"Must have been the water," someone said. "They were all drinking it."
"Come on," Rundly commanded. "Leave them. We still outnumber the Briars."
The men moved forward again. They had just entered the outer perimeter of the camp when Dran shouted, "He put something in the water!"
Turlough froze and looked up to see the soldier pointing directly at him.
"I saw him!" Dran was saying. "He had a flask—"
Without a word Turlough bolted to the right, shoving aside a dozen or more men as he ran for the outskirts of the group. He heard shouting behind him, but he kept running. After a minute or so, he found men lying on the ground. Some moaned with pain, gripping their abdomens, while others appeared to be unconscious.
Turlough twisted his head quickly to glance back. A few soldiers were moving through the crowd in his direction, yelling for someone to stop the traitor. One of the ill men reached for Turlough's ankle, but the Trion youth easily pulled his leg away and continued running. He had lost track of his direction; he simply tried to keep ahead of the growing group of pursuers behind him. He had to step carefully to avoid trampling the fallen men. There were more now, at least four or five dozen. Turlough felt a brief rush of satisfaction as he realized that he had been successful in his task. He kept his eyes on the ground for a time, pushing past the ill soldiers, trying not to step on them or allow them to hold him, as several more had tried to do. His pursuers were closer now, although they, too, were slowed by the prone bodies all around them.
When Turlough looked up again, he was surprised to see that he was on the edge of the Briars' camp. Of course—if he was among the ill men, he must be at the very front of the line. He whipped his head around once more to assess his lead and found that the others were even closer. More soldiers had joined them in their pursuit. Their weapons were drawn, and their expressions were livid. As Turlough turned his head to evaluate his path, something flew toward him. He lifted a hand to block it and gasped as an object struck his palm sharply. He lowered his arm to find a gash just below his thumb. It stung terribly for a moment until rain washed over it. At his feet lay an arrow. He looked up to find several more arrows rushing through the air.
Turlough ducked and continued to run as the arrows whizzed above his head. He heard cries of pain behind him and felt certain that several of the Kingsmen had fallen victim to the barrage of arrows. He swerved to pause behind a tent, quickly surveying the area. He saw that at least two dozen archers straddled the limbs of high trees, keeping up their attack with fresh arrows.
Rain continued to fall steadily, drenching the foot soldiers and obscuring their view. Turlough felt relieved to see that the archers were protected by the leaves and appeared to possess excellent aim. Nevertheless, the Kingsmen had begun to invade the camp, and skirmishes were breaking out in several areas. To his right, Turlough saw a group of four Briars. They were pointing at him and drawing their daggers.
"No!" he shouted. "I'm not one of them! I'm not a Kingsman!"
The Briars did not appear to believe him. As they began to run toward him, Turlough spun around and started to sprint away. However, his foot slipped in the mud, and he felt himself sliding to the ground.
He fell flat on his back, and by the time he had struggled to his feet the Briars were nearly upon him.
"Please!" he yelled through the rain, "I'm on your side!"
His words did not dissuade the soldiers. In a moment they had surrounded him. Two spears pressed against his chest.
"I surrender," he gasped. "Just take me prisoner."
The men seemed to consider this for a moment, but a small band of Kingsmen rapidly approaching shifted their focus from Turlough. A dagger shot through the air, striking one of the Briar soldiers in the shoulder. The man grunted and fell to his knees as his companions turned to fight the attackers.
Turlough rose and slipped through the men then began to run again. He saw the woods to his left and swerved in that direction. The fighting had intensified. All around him small bands of soldiers were engaged in hand-to-hand combat. The Kingsmen had clearly invaded the camp, despite his best efforts to disable them. For an instant Turlough wondered where the Doctor was.
It was nearly impossible to see anyone clearly in the rain, but he paused to look about. All he could discern were the colors of the men's tunics, dulled and sodden, but still distinguishable. He grasped the hem of the tunic he wore and pulled it over his head, flinging the offending garment away. At least now he would not be mistaken for a Kingsman.
He did not see anyone wearing light colored clothing. The Doctor was nowhere in sight. Turlough hesitated for a moment. The woods were so close—he could lose himself in the dense trees in a matter of minutes and be away from this infernal battle zone. But he had given the Doctor his word that he would find Tegan and take her away. In the past his word had meant little, but now he had been entrusted with an important task. With one final longing glance at the forest, Turlough turned and slogged back through the camp.