Chapter 8
Donna shrieked and ducked.
The incoming coil of fire crashed against the wooden wall above her and left a large, black smudge on the panelling.
"Come now, child. Let's make quick work of this," Anne said coolly, and out of her fingertip grew another helix of bright orange flames.
Donna managed to avoid the fire for a second time, but she knew that her luck would soon run out. How could this be? How on earth could the infamous Anne Boleyn be spouting fire out of her finger?
"How are you doing this?" Donna shouted, as more flames soared towards her.
"SHUT UP! You stupid little girl, you know nothing of me!" Anne hissed.
The flames were being shot more violently now. Donna knew that if she stayed here eventually she'd be burned to death. Clamping her eyes shut and folding her arms across her chest, she leapt forwards and knocked the devilish Anne out of the way. The Queen of England crashed into a suit of armour, which came toppling down on top of her.
Donna was about to flee the scene, when she bumped into an elderly man dressed in a servant's uniform. He had a kind but wrinkled face and his eyes were full of warmth. "Who the devil are you?" he asked not unkindly, looking first at Donna and then past her at the heap on the floor.
"Oh my god, is that the Queen?" the gentleman asked in an astonished voice. "What on earth is going on?"
Donna, who was still breathing heavily, tried to mime the events with her hands, but was unsuccessful.
Suddenly, the suit of armour sprawled on the floor crashed upwards and a dishevelled Anne, who now had a nasty cut on her lower lip, sprang to her feet. She resembled a madwoman, and her once spotless black hair was fraying at the edges.
"How dare you! HOW DARE YOU!" Anne growled, her hands shaking with fury. The male servant simply gaped at the state of his Queen, too shocked to say anything.
Donna tried to make a break for it, but Anne convinced her to stay.
"Don't you dare move," she said, her eyes visibly glowing red. Donna remained where she was.
Raising another pale finger, Anne shot more flames into the corridor, but not at Donna. The fire spun into the manservant and literally swallowed him up, as if an entire bonfire had been tossed into the passage.
The flames shrunk and shrunk until there was nothing left of the man, apart from a few black ashes that were scattered across the floor.
"This is what I can do," Anne said in a devilish voice, and she raised her finger again. Donna shut her eyes and waited for it all to be over, but nothing happened.
Opening one eye, she looked around to see what was going on.
But it seemed Anne had vanished.
The Doctor sped along the corridor to the right of him and flung himself into the first room he could find. Leaning against the door, he listened out for the army of men who were looking for him. Apparently they had taken a wrong turning.
The Doctor breathed heavily and looked up at the room he was in. It was a very large hall, with oak floors and ceilings. But this wasn't what the Doctor was drawn towards most.
Sitting in his throne on a raised platform at the end of the hall was King Henry VIII, and worst still, standing behind him was Anne Boleyn with a large knife pressed against his neck.