Turlough stumbled through the jungle, knocking aside brush with flailing arms and fists. His feet moved clumsily with shuffling steps. Every half minute or so he took a deep, shuddering breath then exhaled noisily, sometimes with a cough. He was sweating, and his heart was pounding, but he continued moving.
He had to go on, had to complete the task he'd been given. His eyes moved from side to side, searching for something, trying to process what lay before him. Finally he stopped, nearly falling over with the sudden cessation of movement.
His arm rose, his hand heavy with the ax he grasped. He swung the implement awkwardly, its blade catching the dense leaves that lay in its arc. Several small branches fell to the ground. His eyes rotated down, processing the work then lifting again to swing the ax once more.
And again he took a breath, then coughed an exhalation as he cut through the dense jungle brush, leaving branches, fronds, and flowers withering at his feet.
The Doctor followed the stream for about a kilometer, tracing it back to its origin near the base of the hills. After a time he could smell smoke; unlike the smoke generated by a brush fire, this was pungent yet sweet. He felt certain that he was nearing Cabar's location.
Silently he chided himself for taking so long to figure it out. He should have realized that the ceremony would be held in a place close to water and near the site of the ancient volcanic eruption. The water provided life to the inhabitants and the land, but the volcanic event had been of the most supreme import those many generations ago. It was logical that its source should be perceived as one worthy of both awe and reverence.
The Doctor remembered seeing the cinder cone rising up from his vantage point on the hill. He had noted absently that it lay in the middle of a lake, but he had failed to consider its significance at the time. However, now he guessed that this would be the ideal place to perform an ancient and sacred ceremony. The smell from the ritualistic burning of fragrant boughs confirmed his surmise.
He slowed his steps as he neared the lake. Tegan had been taken from the village without his knowledge or permission, and he knew that his presence was unwelcome here. He moved carefully, quietly through the brush until he could see the smoke billowing up from a small island near the cinder cone in the center of the lake.
Late afternoon shadows were shifting to evening darkness, and a small fire burning at the edge of the island caught his eye. A ring of villagers stood tightly along the perimeter, so he could not see what they surrounded. He could hear the chanting, however; it had a mournful cadence that sent a chill through his entire body. He watched in abject fascination for several minutes, noting that the circle did not part but the voices stilled as a single intonation echoed over the water. Cabar was speaking, commanding the dark spirit to leave.
For an instant there was silence, then the Doctor heard a whimper. It was low at first, but it quickly built into a deep, agonized moan. The Time Lord felt as though he had been caught in a frigid wind. Cold filled him at the anguish conveyed in Tegan's cry.
The paralysis had only been temporary. While Tegan had been in the grips of it, Cabar had brushed leafy branches over her arms and legs, chanting with increasing urgency as he worked. Her mind was still foggy, but she began to understand some of his words: "Depart." "Leave this body." "It does not want you."
As she began to regain control of her limbs, Tegan felt an increase in the pain. She forced her eyes to move, to stare at her hand, certain that she would see that it was aflame—the burning sensation was excruciating. She was almost surprised when she saw nothing but her own flushed skin. Still, by pure instinct she pulled her hands back, trying to move them away from the source of the pain.
It was when she heard Cabar say, "The pain will not end until you leave this body—and when life has left it you can no longer possess it," that she finally found the strength to scream.
Quickly the Doctor spurred himself to action. He had to reach the island, but he had to do so quietly. He was certain that he would be stopped if he were seen. His eyes scanned the lake, and he spotted a small canoe near the shore. He hurried toward it, dragging it out of the water then lifting it to carry above his head. He was grateful that the light had faded. It would be difficult for the ceremony participants to see him unless they were watching carefully.
He moved back into the heavier foliage, skirting the edge of the lake until he was on the opposite side of the cinder cone. He returned to the water, setting the canoe on the surface then climbing in. He used his hands to paddle as soundlessly as possible toward the center of the lake.
When he reached the cinder cone, the Doctor stepped out of the canoe. His feet slipped on the damp surface, and he reached out to grab the nearest handhold. He gasped in pain as his palm scraped against the rough rock. He took a moment to find his footing, forcing himself to move more slowly despite the growing intensity of Tegan's cries.
He skirted the cone and reached the other side. The island was only a meter or so from the edge of the cinder cone. The villagers seemed intent on the ceremony, and he was able to leap across the water and land on the island before he was noticed.
Tegan felt her head lifted. The motion brought new spasms of pain to her entire body, although the hands that held her were gentle. She tried to focus her eyes on the object that was moving toward her.
She blinked, attempting to dash away the hot tears that flowed uncontrollably down her cheeks. She could see something round hovering before her, and her nose wrinkled at the smell drifting up from it. Fingers touched her lips, prying open her mouth as the bowl was rested against her teeth.
Some primitive part of Tegan's brain recognized instinctually that the contents of the bowl must be avoided. The odor, the bitter taste that already seeped into her tongue—these told even her bewildered mind to resist the brew.
She tried to turn her head away, but the hands held her more firmly. She felt the liquid splash against her clenched teeth. Now her jaw was pulled down, and her mouth was forced open. She could think of nothing else to do but scream.
The circle shifted as Aveoh and Ennen stepped out to grasp the Doctor's arms.
"You must not be here!" the elder hissed. "This is a sacred ceremony for our people alone."
"You have to stop it," the Doctor entreated, suppressing his ire in recognition of the need for reason. "Cabar has made a terrible mistake."
"No, he's casting out the dark spirit now—" began Ennen.
Tegan's shriek punctuated his words. With a burst of strength that startled the two men, the Doctor shrugged them away and pushed his way through the circle. He felt other hands trying to restrain him, but he heaved them away with a savage twist of his arms and shoulders.
"Tegan!" he gasped, his eyes widening as he saw the young woman lying upon a bed of leaves and flowers.
Her arms and legs moved spasmodically, writhing with some terrible internal pain. Her face was twisted in agony, and her skin was florid. Cabar was bent over her, holding a bowl to her mouth as Yare and Gemal forced her head to remain still and her lips to part.
The shaman looked up for an instant, clearly shocked at the Time Lord's unexpected and unwanted presence, but he merely said, "It is almost done."
"No!" the Doctor shouted, sprinting forward with the intention of knocking the bowl from his hands.
However, the villagers had gathered their strength and resolve, and strong arms locked around him—more than he could easily slough off, even with the fortitude of a Time Lord.
"Cabar!" the Doctor yelled, "you must stop! You're wrong about her. There is no dark spirit in her."
The shaman lowered his head again and tilted the bowl up to Tegan's mouth. "It will leave her soon," he said. His voice was calm, but his hands shook.
"Please," the Doctor expostulated, "just stop for a moment. Use your intuition, the gift that has made you such a superb shaman, to try to find the spirit. Can you sense it at all?"
Cabar hesitated, keeping the bowl in one hand but moving the other to rest it over Tegan's forehead. Her eyelids were fluttering, eyes beginning to roll back so that the whites shone eerily in the firelight.
"Please, Cabar, in the name of your ancestors, I ask that you give her no more until you are absolutely certain."
The shaman bowed his head and closed his eyes, hand now pressing hard against the Australian's brow. After nearly a minute his head jerked up, and his hands moved down quickly to push the other elders away as he set the bowl upon the ground. He sank back on his heels, his expression reflecting both astonishment and compunction.
The Doctor was able to wriggle free of his captors, and he fell to his knees next to Tegan. He rested his hands on her cheeks, running his thumb over the liquid that had splashed onto her chin. Her skin was so hot, and he could sense her rapid heartbeat even before he moved a hand down to touch the pulse point on her neck.
"What have you given her?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"The sacred potions," replied Cabar equally softly. "They were supposed to make her body uninhabitable for the dark spirit, and make her mind open to the spirits of our ancestors—"
"What exactly was in them?"
"The white cone flower was the main ingredient," the shaman said.
"The one growing near your hut? That's jimson weed. It contains atropine and scopolamine—they're poisonous." It occurred to him that he was not sharing new information with Cabar. The Doctor's eyes flicked to the bowl. It still contained some liquid. "You didn't give her all of it?"
Cabar shook his head. "She took very little. She was resisting—"
The Doctor stroked Tegan's cheek. "Yes, I'm sure she was."
He shifted around so that he could lift her into his arms, then he stood and carried her to the water's edge. The circle parted for him, the villagers whispering in confusion but understanding that a grave mistake had been made.
Gently he settled his friend upon the grassy bank, keeping one hand beneath her head as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a handkerchief. He dipped it into the cool water and bathed her face. He leaned in closely, his mouth nearly touching her ear, to say softly, "Brave heart, Tegan."
Cabar had made his way through the villagers to squat beside the Doctor and Tegan.
"The entire bowl would most likely have been fatal," the Time Lord said, not even bothering to phrase the words as a question. "But what about the amount she had?"
The shaman took a breath. "I don't know." He began gesturing to several men. "Put her in the canoe," he said.
The men bent to Tegan, but the Doctor pulled her up. "No, I'll do it."
Gently he settled her in a large canoe that was moored a few meters down the shore. He climbed in, pulling up her shoulders to rest her head in his lap. Cabar, Yare, Gemal, and Ennen positioned themselves at the opposite end and began to paddle toward the shore.
"Doctor," said Cabar, his voice shaking, "I didn't know. I sensed the dark spirit so strongly when I touched her hand during the blessing. How could I have been so wrong?"
The Time Lord looked up. "It isn't a spirit," he said.
"But there was something—"
"Yes. And there still is, but it's not within Tegan." He was running the back of his hand over her cheek as he spoke. Several raw scrapes stood out on his palm.
"I don't understand."
The Doctor took a breath in an attempt to calm himself. "Cabar, think about the moment when you believed that you sensed the spirit in her. You placed your hands on the table and touched—"
"All three of you," finished the shaman. "It isn't you."
"No."
Cabar and the other elders seemed to comprehend simultaneously. Short gasps came from all four men. It was the shaman, though, who confirmed their thoughts: "It was Turlough. It was coming from him."
The Doctor nodded gravely. "Yes, I'm afraid so."
"But what is it?" asked Ennen. "You said it's not a dark spirit. What else can it be?"
"Something that is very much alive." The Doctor's eyes moved toward the shore. "And if I'm right about this, Turlough is in very real danger, and so is your village." He thrust his hand into the water to help with the paddling efforts. "Hurry! We don't have much time."
The moment they reached the mainland, the Doctor stood and lifted Tegan out of the canoe. He turned to Cabar, saying, "Please do everything that you can for her."
The shaman took the unconscious young woman from his arms. "Where are you going?" he asked.
"I have to find Turlough." The Doctor turned to leave, but stopped for an instant to reach back and take Tegan's hand. "Forgive me," he said softly, then he hurried away.