Two
Battered and bruised, the Doctor considered himself lucky to still be conscious. Dragging himself to his feet, he found himself surrounded by his assailants. Their attack had been half-hearted compared to their assault on the poor creature, which lay inert behind them, and the Doctor concluded that they had a special, irrational hatred of whatever kind of creature it had been.
The men moved aside as the Doctor limped over towards K9, who remained on his side, his nose pressed into the ground, his stunner temporarily disabled. Mentally he catalogued the need to fit his mechanical familiar with some sort of self-righting mechanism.
"K9, are you alright?"
"Ma…s…ter…" The dog's muffled response was enough to set the Doctor's mind at ease, until he realized that two of their attackers lay unconscious on the ground, and that their condition left K9 as the main threat.
"Shut that thing up." As if reading the Doctor's mind, the leader gestured for one of his men to deal with the dog. The man concerned brushed past the Doctor, clipping him with an elbow for effect, as bullies are wont to do.
Lining up his club, the man took a great swing, and smacked it into the side of K9's head. Sparks flew, and the Doctor winced. He felt the bolts loosen. A second blow followed, and the Doctor looked away as his pet's head flew from its torso, landing a few feet away amid sparking circuits and the smell of ozone.
As he turned his head away, the Doctor noticed the broken fishbowl and the alien cephalopod within. It was still moving. Limping past his attackers, the Doctor made his way towards the creature, crouching down beside it before the leader of the hooded men called him off.
"You, get away from that squid."
The Doctor turned, looking his enemy is the eye. "Squid? It looks a little more than that."
"Leave the filthy menk alone." One of the others threatened.
"It's dying," said the Doctor. He looked down upon the creature. It had no eyes, but the milky ichor streaking from its remains made it look like it was weeping.
"And in a few more seconds it'll be dead," said the leader. "Grab him."
Several of the men reached for the Doctor, pulling him to the ground. As they pinned him, they turned to their 'Commander', asking what they should do next.
"The Honour Guard has only one enemy," their leader said. "Tie him up and let's get back to the city. We'll work out what to do with him later."
Within moments, ropes were produced, and the Doctor found himself trussed up. The last thing he saw before a sack was thrown over his head was the dying cephalopod. One of the so-called 'Honour Guard' was using his club to administer the coup de grâce. Multiple coups de grâce, if such a term existed.
The Doctor felt himself being lifted from the ground and thrown over one of the steeds that he had spotted earlier. As he was being tied securely he heard the Commander's last instruction.
"Right, lads, mount up. Let's get out of here."
The dawn of the twilight cycle was heralded by the appearance of a flickering crack of light which gently swelled into the full, glorious bloom of the world's artificial sun. Brighter, but colder, the Oculus cast its blue heat upon across the world known as K'thellid. As the cycle progressed, its fiery hue would shift along the spectrum, from blue to yellow, to red. However, the Oculus burned not just for the outside world, but also for the deepest recesses of Mount Madronal. As its blue light broke across the planet, a single ray passed downward, herded by a narrow stone shaft, which had once served a different purpose. Two miles down, at the heart of the vast, cavernous chamber that rested at the foot of the shaft, a great concave mirror captured and dispersed the light.
On this particular morning light break was observed by a full chamber. The assembled monks wore hooded robes, their faces shielded from the fierce blue light by ceremonial masks which protected them from its full intensity. As it had for two million years, the undiluted light washed over the chamber's walls. Bleached and heavily eroded, the chamber was riddled with tiny vents, which carried the light away through a network of filters and reflectors, instantaneously bringing illumination to every open space under the mountain.
Each monk stood motionless, forming part of a great circle which surrounded both the great mirror and the altar which rested at its head. Side by side, Teyamat and Brother G'thon stood before the altar, leading the resonant chant which echoed throughout the chamber, and through the labyrinthine corridors which lay beyond.
The dialect was an ancient one, and the words were formulaic, recounting a complex mathematical sequence, which focused their collective mind upon a single goal.
As the chanting grew louder, and faster, and higher in pitch, the grinding echo of the TARDIS' engines reverberated through the chamber, creating a Doppler effect as it came closer and closer towards materialisation. Photons twinkled as the time ship solidified, halting their journey as the shape of a battered blue Police Box appeared on the opposite side of the mirror to the altar.
Romana watched the view screen helplessly. She had heard fairy tales of time-bending cults who could summon objects across time by will alone, but she hadn't expected to see it for herself. The chanting outside slowed and two robed cultists, no doubt the high priests or priestesses, stepped forwards. Their chant continued as a duet, and the shorter of the two reached a hand out towards the TARDIS.
In response to the gesture, the door lever began to slide downwards. Grasping it with both hands, Romana attempted to force it up, keeping it closed. She was unable to muster enough physical force, and slowly the lever descended. She felt it click into place, and the gentle hum of the opening outer door followed, allowing what she had identified as mad cultists to file into the TARDIS. She took cover behind the console, peering through the now still time rotor, desperately looking for some non-existent defence system built into the control panel. Perhaps a force-ram, or maybe a wind machine.
"Who are you people?" she asked as more than a dozen robed, masked initiates filled the room. Their masks were smooth and reflective, their lack of features providing her with no useful information whatsoever.
"Get away!" she warned, as they silently moved toward her. Reaching into the folds of her jacket, she felt the reassuring weight of the Doctor's sonic screwdriver, withdrawing it and pointing it in their direction.
The two leaders she had identified earlier faced her across the console. The taller of the two seemed to be admiring the controls, while the shorter one reached out for the platen which would provide a direct link to the telepathic circuits.
"Don't touch that – I'm warning you," she aimed the screwdriver. "I have a sonic lance and I'm not afraid to use it!"
The shorter cultist hesitated, hand hovering over the platen. "We've no intention of harming you, Time Lord." She said, revealing herself to be both female and very, very old.
"I'm pleased to hear it," she replied. "It would have been nice to let me know that before you dragged me here against my will."
One of the other cultists broke rank, pointing an accusatory finger at Romana. "Just as your ancestors imprisoned us here against our will, Time Lord?"
Enough, Xerinar! said the taller of the two leaders. His voice contrasted in every way to that of the woman's. It seemed strange. Disjointed. Alien. I am Brother G'thon, he said, an acolyte of Madronal.
Romana stood, cautiously lowering the sonic screwdriver. Moving around the console, she used the introduction to place herself between the telepathic interface and the old woman. As she came face to face with the featureless mirror-mask, she sensed the woman flinch, taking a step backward.
"Romanadvoratrelundar," she said, reasserting her will as haughtily as she could. "And it's Time Lady, actually."
The taller cultist – G'thon – didn't seem as awed by the announcement
Unusual for a woman to ascend to such a noble calling.
"Not really," she dismissed his suggestion. "What do you know of the Time Lords? And who are you?"
If you will accompany us, the Abbot wishes to speak with you. G'thon stood aside, indicating that Romana was free to leave the room unrestrained. So they were monks, not cultists. That eased her apprehension a little. And please, put the weapon away.
"Weapon?" Romana looked at the sonic screwdriver. "Oh, yes." She pocketed it, and followed her escort out into the blazing light of the chamber beyond.
"Impressive," she muttered, shielding her eyes as the Monks of Madronal took her to their leader.
The mists were closer to the ground, but there were still a few inches of clearance. The darkness beyond had given way to a low-level light, tinged with blue. The canopies of the tall grey-bamboo stalks that passed for trees were visible, their great reach obscuring the light some eight or nine hundred feet overhead.
By retracting and extending his nose-mounted weapons a few times, K9 had managed to re-orient his head. Even for a robot, it was disconcerting for him to see his body lying on its side a metre and a half away.
"Mas…t…er..?" The inquiry confirmed that K9 was alone, and that the Doctor had most likely been captured. A brief self-diagnostic informed him that his head remained connected to his torso only by a single cable, and that his power reserves were almost fully charged. He considered his predicament a moment further, then used what little movement he had to adjust the position of his head once more.
Then he fired a stun blast at his torso, at maximum intensity.
As he had anticipated, K9 caught himself a glancing blow, which projected enough sonic force to tip his body over once more. With a thump, it landed on its base. He stored an observation, to suggest that the Doctor add a self-righting modification at his earliest convenience. He then scanned for life signs, picking up an alpha-wave concentration, which included a pattern he recognised as that of the Doctor, less than a thousand metres away. His body turned, heading off towards his master, limply dragging his head behind.
The solid clatter of hooves had given way to softer, boggier ground, and the pace had slowed. The journey so far had been quick, with little dialogue among the Honour Guard, who seemed keen to return to 'the city' and resume their normal lives. The Doctor had chosen not to struggle, saving his strength and his energy for whatever awaited him.
As the Honour Guard got closer to home, their silence lifted, and they began to chat among themselves. The Doctor felt another change in pace, and the soft ground was replaced with a hard path, which itself gave way to the stone cobbles of a town of some kind. There still didn't seem to be any sound of human activity, so it was either very early, or else a backwater which didn't get much trade.
"Quiet, now, lads," said the Commander, confirming the first of the Doctor's assumptions about the town, "we don't want to draw attention to ourselves."
"What about him?" One of the Guard was referring to the Doctor.
"Get yourselves out of those robes and bring him to mine. We can sort him out later. Besides, I've got some ale in."
"I'm with you, sir," said another. "It's been a long cycle."
"Yes, but a good night's work. Well done, lads."
The Guard dismounted, quietly leading their steeds through what the Doctor took to be side streets. After a short while, they came to a halt, and moments later the Doctor felt hands grabbing him and easing him down. He considered saying something, but the treatment of the alien creature in the forest stayed his tongue. He couldn't be sure he would earn less than another beating.
"Easy does it, boys," said the Commander gruffly, as they carried their prisoner through a doorway and into a warm building. "We can't afford any suspicious behaviour. You wouldn't want the police sniffing around, asking questions, now. Would you?"
The Guard erupted into laughter. There was an irony in their reaction which aroused the Doctor's suspicions. They were criminals, for sure, but with a very frivolous attitude towards the law.
Bundled through another doorway, the Doctor found himself, still bound and covered, being lowered onto a hard mat in a cold room. His captors then withdrew, slamming and securing a heavy wooden door behind them.
The corridors reminded Romana of her first adventure with the Doctor, passing through crypts under the city of Shur on Ribos. The atmosphere was still, the air musty, and the great age of the place apparent with every footfall. Her escort consisted of the old woman, Teyamat, taking the lead, and Brother G'thon, the tall one, bringing up the rear. She was reassured that they had not felt the need to bring more monks along to ensure her compliance, but more than a little irritated by the great distance they had covered since leaving the chamber. The corridor appeared to move upwards in a gentle spiral, and she hadn't yet encountered a set of stairs. She had commented on this after the first thousand paces, and G'thon had explained that stairs only served those that were in a hurry.
Eventually, Teyamat led them into a small antechamber, where she at last removed her mirror-mask and set it aside. Her wild hair and wizened face revealed her to be immeasurably old. She grinned at Romana, and stepped through an archway into the room beyond, leaving Romana alone with Brother G'thon.
Like Teyamat, G'thon removed his mask, and Romana was lost for words. Despite his tall humanoid body, G'thon's features were far from human. The face of a pink kraken stared back at her. Actually, Romana noted, he wasn't staring. He had no eyes. His cranium was a livid pink, while his mouth, a small metallic beak, was surrounded by a knot of suckered tentacles which had fallen free when the mask came off.
You thought I was human. It was a statement of fact, not a question.
"Yes," Romana nodded. "I'm sorry."
Don't be. G'thon's tentacles writhed as he spoke. Our two races co-exist, and have done so ever since the monastery was established.
"I see," said Romana, who also saw that despite the movement of his tentacles, G'thon's mouth didn't move as he spoke. He was, she realised, a blind telepath.
Teyamat coughed from the archway. "The abbot will see you now, Romana."
"What? Oh, thanks." She shuffled past the old crone, and stepped into a small room, bare but for a small desk and chair set beneath a circle of light. It was reflected downwards by a polished mirror, redirecting the output from one of the many vents leading from the chamber deep below them.
"Welcome to Mount Madronal." The abbot rose to greet her. "Romana, isn't it? I am the abbot, Gesar." He was tall and human. A little shorter than G'thon, and quite a bit younger than Teyamat. His face wore their responsibilities well. "The old mother tells me you were a little intimidated by our little… diversion."
"Well," Romana preened herself as she spoke, brushing away some dust from her sleeve. "I'm sure you could have asked before you whisked me into your little fortress."
The abbot smiled, apologetically. "It's hardly a fortress. We are a peaceful order."
Sitting down again, the abbot paused, using his new vantage point to scrutinise his guest. "I apologise for our reaction. You see, we don't get many TARDISes hereabouts."
Romana smiled sweetly. "Yet you seem to know our technology intimately, abbot."
Gesar nodded, casually. "We understand the principles. I must say, I hadn't expected our diversion to work. I'm told you didn't offer much resistance."
Romana didn't quite follow. She wondered if this was really a genuinely open conversation, or whether there was something deeper going on.
"I can only assume you haven't bonded with your TARDIS yet."
"It's not mine," Romana said. Rather too quickly, she told herself. She wondered if G'thon was just a broadcast telepath, or whether she was being subjected to some complex form of interrogation. Either way, her mental barriers were up, and she was ready.
"Really? So you didn't come alone?"
"Of course I did," she said, protecting the Doctor, who was no doubt still enjoying his stroll through the forest. "I'm just a relatively new graduate."
Romana kicked herself. The Doctor had always explained that the secret of a good interrogation was that the victim should get more information than the captor.
"I see. And what brings you to K'thellid?"
"K'thellid?" It was the first time Romana had heard the name of the planet, and she inwardly congratulated herself on chalking up her first piece of information. Not that it was very useful to her. She'd never heard of it. "Is that where I am?"
Gesar eyed her curiously. "You mean you didn't know where you were?"
"Well," she shrugged, "this planet wasn't exactly my intended destination."
"Somehow, I find that rather difficult to believe."
"You're entitled to think that, but I can assure you…"
Romana's defence was interrupted by Teyamat, who shuffled forwards to speak quietly into the abbot's ear. She couldn't quite make out what the old crone was saying, but from Gesar's expression, it was something pretty important. She backed away. Nodding to his adviser, the abbot's questions continued.
"Your full name is Romanadvoratrelundar?"
"Yes."
"Of the House Dvora?"
Romana was confused. First they demonstrated knowledge of Time Lord technology, and now of ancient family politics.
"House Dvora was closed down when I was a child," she clarified. "I was its last cousin. Hence my name."
"Would you step closer, into the light."
"What?"
"I just want to see your face."
"My face? I see." Romana stepped forward into the circle of light. As she did so, she removed her velvet fedora and shook her hair loose. She stared directly into the abbot's eyes. "Well?"
There was an audible gasp as the abbot leaned forwards. He was clearly struck dumb by what he saw, and after a moment Romana realised it was shock.
"Ahem." She coughed, restoring his focus. "I've been told I have quite striking features, but they've never elicited this kind of response."
"Forgive me," the abbot stuttered.
"So are you going to tell me who you are, and what you know of the Time Lords?"
Gesar nodded. His curiosity seemed to have given way to deference. Perhaps, at last, he believed her. Then he spoke again.
"You really haven't got a clue, have you?"