Chapter 11: Walking the Mind
Valhalla's mouth fell open and his amber eyes grew wide.
"You lie about such terrible things." He gasped. But his eyes flicked over his brother's face and no hint of foolishness was there. Only a hollow face of seriousness and ravenous hunger for revenge. He looked away, shock catching his breath in a steely grip in his chest.
No fate such as this has become of those who were so noble to their King, he thought, staring at the floor, though he was a tyrant, I never believed him a slaughterer.
"You see my thoughts now, do you not?"
The voice, so cold, so hard penetrated his own mind and started clearing the fog of confusion. But a cloud still remained, a thunder cloud. Shooting bolts of shock and horror, tipping rain of sorrow for those lost and roaring the thunder of restraint. But the thunder always dies down. Now the wind of rage came.
"How do you expect to return home?" Valhalla asked coldly. Tarok raised an eyebrow at this.
"We won't be returning there." He growled in response. Valhalla scrambled to his feet, another wave of shock sweeping over him.
"Are you insane? If you tell the truth, Tarok, then why do we not return back to save the rest? Do you wish for them to suffer."
Tarok curled his lip and gave an almighty roar, wincing from the pain in his chest. Valhalla stepped back a few steps, alert making his body tense.
"You treat me as some kind of sick twisted being, Valhalla!" He bellowed, pointing an accusing finger at Valhalla. "I would wish to do that more than anything! But, you forget the King still has power and we would be destroyed." Valhalla snarled defensively back.
"You wished to kill me." He snapped. "I treat you in anyway I judge wisely."
"Then you think yourself above me?"
"In truth, I always have," Valhalla hissed. "And I always will!"
The sound of whistling came through the air, following by a short muffled thud and the sound of gasping. Valhalla looked up at the cold eyes of Tarok, then down to the spear embedded in his chest.
"Then think no more." Tarok whispered.
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Tess stared down at the control panel with utter interest and curiosity. The TARDIS hummed all around her, almost whispering to her.
Mental link, she thought, running a hand over the smooth alien technology, life essence is mental and the TARDIS has a mental link with anyone who is near it. So... Quickly, Tess rethought of the events of the day.
Rose wasn't near the TARDIS when she was...absorbed as I shall now name it, so there wasn't a big enough mental link there. But, when the Doctor was 'absorbed' he was in the TARDIS, which means his mental connection with the heart of the TARDIS was at its peak... Snapping her fingers triumphantly together, Tess's puzzle finally fitted together, producing a picture and explanation of what it all meant. He's in here! The Doctor is in here! He's in the TARDIS!
Tess whirled around, looking at the cavernous ceiling with a smile and bright eyes. The Doctor's life essence was running through the TARDIS right now as she stood there. She heard the soft humming grow louder, as though he was praising her through the TARDIS.
Amazement running through her like wildfire, Tess reached out towards the wall and pressed her palm against the cold surface. Her hand grew suddenly warm and she felt something pull at her mind. Holding her hand still she felt the tugging grow and then suddenly stop, before a voice she recognized as the Doctor's saying, Good Work! Couldn't have done it better myself...Well I could, but this is your moment of glory. Tess laughed out loud. She could almost feel the Doctor's beaming smile in her mind. Because he was there, in her mind, walking the many lost corridors of unwanted memories. He was, in effect, opening the doors on these long hallways, viewing the catastrophic event that lay in them.
Remember you can always close a door if you need too, The Doctor said slowly, but as he said this, he was suddenly grasped by a single, blackened and charred door. Tess felt her hearts stop and tried desperately to lock it, but it seemed to be her very own mind that kept her from doing so. Almost, as if one part of her had been waiting for the Doctor to see this memory.
Do you want me to go in?
The question seemed to linger around Tess's head for a moment. The Doctor was waiting patiently and calmly for her answer, not wanting to feel as though he was imposing her.
The small voice in someone's head can be either very helpful or really annoying. Right now, Tess was struggling to keep it out, while the large voice, which not so many people have, was bellowing. Finally, she gave a sigh and just nodded.
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The Doctor hung back for a moment, before firmly striding forwards and reached out for the handle. As his hand closed round the smoked handle, he withdrew with a cry. The handle was burning, almost white hot and was already causing his palm to go a raw red. The sickly smell of burnt flesh already hung in the air, making the Doctor nearly gag, but he held it back, pulling his hand firmly into his suit jacket and quickly grabbing the handle again. Already feeling the heat seeping through the fabric, he twisted it and let it fall open.
It was black inside and the air seemed to hang with a heavy veil of sorrow. A humid breeze brushed past him as he began to walk slowly in. He was hesitant, yet being the Doctor, he was curious and this was obviously someone he needed to see.
As soon as he had walked a few steps in, the door swung shut with a crunch and the faint pattering of bits of wood as they broke away from the door. There wasn't a speck of light in the room and the blackness seemed to be caving slowly in on the Doctor as he felt around blindly.
All of a sudden, a grey light dawned in the room, casting great shadow from even the slightest piece of dust that lay on the wooden floor. The Doctor looked down and his breath caught in his chest. If he had walked any further, he would have tumbled into a great hole that was ripped into the floor. He tried to see the bottom, but could only see a swirling mist.
He looked back up, peering at the light. It shimmered constantly, like a jewel, yet it was dull and lifeless. Then, he saw people walking and suddenly a face loomed in front of him, through the light, as though it was a television. The face was angry, twisted with rage as it roared silently at him. It was a man, about mid 40's, with a crude hair cut and a greasy face. His teeth now, seemed to be fangs and his eyes, though the picture was grey, seemed to glow. He watched, frozen to the spot, trying to read his lips. But, a sudden burst of sound emitted from nowhere, causing him to jump.
YOU DARE DISOBEY ME AGAIN, TESSA WILSON, AND BY GOD WON'T YOU GET SOME BEATING
The Doctor frowned as he realised this as the voice of the picture he was seeing. It was one of Tess's memories, he was sure of it, but who was this? Her teacher, headmaster...Father?
I DID NOTHING WRONG!
That was Tess's voice, yelling back. It seemed to be choked, the hint of grief in the cry that was so obvious. The Doctor watched, wincing mentally as the man's face suddenly burst with rage. The image suddenly turned to a raised hand, which came crashing down into Tess's face. She must have toppled and crashed heavily with a small cry. Black now seemed to claw at the image, what the Doctor realised as the symptoms of her probably blacking out. The sound of thuds fading away told him that the man was walking away.
A sudden gnawing sensation began at the pit of the Doctor's two hearts, spreading out across his chest. Anger turned his vision red and he clenched his teeth together as he breathed in heavily, like a wounded animal.
He was her acting father, one of the Garthes. They abused her, beat her, to try and reawaken her memory and reactivate the powers. But, she had got close to the TARDIS and had absorbed a little power from that and had started to activate again.
The grey finally faded away once more and the Doctor was enclosed in black once more.
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Karok padded slowly into the silent ship. His eyes flickered around, looking at the destruction all around. He heard voices, arguing in the main control room and began forward. The words became louder in volume as the argument seemed to steep upwards in rage. Then loud, painful roars that made him jump and worry.
He came to the door into the control room and pressed his back up against the cool wall next to it, watching the shadows dance in front of him. Slowly, he grasped the facts. The ship was dead, they were stranded here, their King lied...Their friends were all dead. The voice that gave this news was Tarok's, yet it sounded nothing like it. It was full of hate and bitterness, unlike Tarok completely.
He heard the sounds of ripping flesh and the stench of blood was it the air already. Valhalla's shadow waved its arms at Tarok's, snarling an insult. Tarok roared and raised a finger, snarling viciously back with spitting fury. Then the voices went low and Karok noticed Valhalla's spear twitch into life and rise off the ground, twirling in the air. Karok realised what was to happen, but did so too late. The spear was hurled forward and there was a short grunt, before Tarok's voice ended it and the dull thud of a body hitting the ground began the silence.
Shock and horror gripped Karok in a cold grasp and he couldn't breathe. His fist clenched hard around the warm wood of his own spear and closed his eyes, muttering a few words to Valhalla's spirit.
"You pray for a traitor?" Came a soft hiss. Karok snapped his eyes open, coming face to face with Tarok's sneering face.
"I pray for a lost brother," Karok growled back. "I curse those who kill another." Tarok smirked and shook his head.
"Valhalla thought the same." He replied sourly, striding past him and towards the weapons room. "You only see the law of it all." Karok frowned and walked after him.
"Do you not see your actions?" He snarled. "Valhalla is dead! You killed your own brother!" He was even more shocked as Tarok replied coolly, "You would have done the same some other time, Karok. It was a murder waiting to happen." Tarok brought out two pendants, both a long strip of leather tied to a small sphere of blue stone. He threw one at Karok and brought another out. It was Valhalla's, but it wasn't blue. It was a dull grey and felt like lead in his paw. He tutted and threw it away. The sound of it clanging heartlessly on the floor brought a sudden grief to Karok, but he fought it back and barked in the best voice he could muster, "What are you doing now?" Tarok stood, hanging the pendant around his neck and grasping his spear tightly.
"Killing the source of our problems."
Hey Guys, I'm sorry about the delay in the next chapter. I didn't write it in enough time beofre I was meant to go on holiday. Well, due to go anyway, our flight was cancelled and we had to get on another 3 days late, because of the bomb scare on the 10th August, the day we we were due to leave... I was very depressed, so I really didn't feel like doing any writing, but that's all in the past now, I had a fab time and I have returned to merry old wet Britain and I am back to writing. I couldn't fit much more into this chapter, so I hope you will forgive me if you think it is too short. And for the fact that it was so late as well. I apologise yet again.
Please read and review! Reviews mean the world to me and cheer me up like nothing..apart from friends and all that mushy stuff. For new readers that have just started reading my story and for the people who have been so faithful to have been reading since I have added this, I thank you so much! And that I plan, or hope even, that I will eventually turn this into a series, but I am quite worried that people will find it unoriginal or boring, so please reviw and tell me what you think of the idea and the story so far!
Thanks again:)
TheNextTitan