Chapter 3: Fire Burn And Cauldron Bubble

Martha had gotten used to the smell of excrement, which blanketed the time period, but she was still overwhelmed by the smell, coming from the cells of Bedlam. This wasn't a hospital, just a means of keeping the insane out of the way. They were fed and kept, but otherwise left to live in their own filth.

As thy made their way between the cells, a wild-eyed woman lunged at them through the bars. The jailer pulled out a rod and beat her back like a wild animal. "Would you like to be entertained while you wait?" He said to the visitors. "I'd whip these madmen into a frenzy for you. The mad dogs of Bedlam..."

"No I would not." The Doctor said shortly.

The jailer shrugged. "Very well. If you'd like to wait here. I'll just, er, make him decent for the lady."

Martha took a look at the woman he'd beaten back, who had retreated to the corner of her cell and curled into a ball. She wondered just how mad the woman had been before she was thrown in here. She'd certainly be a lot worse now. "So this is what you call a hospital, yeah? Where people are whipped to entertain the gentry? And you put your friend in here?"

Shakespeare rolled his eyes. "Oh, it's all so different in Freedonia."

"But you're clever! Do you honestly think this place does any good?"

"I've been mad before. Fear of this place set me straight. It serves its purpose."

"Mad how?"

"You lost your son." Said the Doctor, causing Martha to falter.

Shakespeare nodded. "My only boy. Black death took him. I wasn't even there."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know." Said Martha.

"It made me question everything. This whole fleeting existence. To be or not to be... Oh that's quite good."

"You should write it down." Said the Doctor.

Shakespeare frowned. "Don't know. A bit pretentious, don't you think?"

"This way, my lords." Called the jailer.

He let them into Peter's cell, where the man was huddled on the floor, like Gollum. "You might wanna be careful. They can be dangerous. Don't know their own strength."

"It helps if you don't whip them!" The Doctor snapped. "Now get out!"

The jailer shrugged and left, locking the door behind him.

The Doctor cautiously made his way up to Peter, who had his back to them. "Peter? Peter Streete. Can you hear me?"

"He's the same as he was." Said Shakespeare. "You'll get nothing out of him."

"Peter?" The Doctor gently placed his hand on the man's shoulder. He looked up, wild eyed.

Lilith sensed a new disturbance and hurried over to the cauldron to have a look. "That stranger. He was at the inn with Shakespeare. I thought then he smelt of something new."

"Now he visits the madhouse." Said Bloodtide.

They watched as the Doctor placed his hands on the architect's temples "Peter, I'm the Doctor. Go into the past. One year ago. Let your mind go back. Back to when everything was fine and shining." Peter breathed deeply, as some traces of peace came to his eyes. "Everything that happened in this year since happened to somebody else. It was just a story. A Winter's Tale. Let go. That's it. That's it, just let go." The Doctor guided him back to the bed. "Tell me the story. Tell me about the witches."

"Who is this Doctor?" Said Lilith. "Why does he come now at our time of glory? Doomfinger, transport yourself. Doom the Doctor. Doom his hide."

Peter hissed and shook as he spoke. "Witches spoke to Peter. In the night, they whispered. They whispered. Got Peter to build the Globe to their design. Their design! The fourteen walls. Always fourteen. When the work was done they... snapped poor Peter's wits."

"And where did Peter see the witches?" Said the Doctor. The Architect whimpered and held his hands over his eyes. "Peter, you have to tell me. Where were they?"

Peter groaned. "All Hallows Street."

"Too many words." Sang a new voice in the Doctor's ear. He turned to see Doomfinger leaning over his shoulder. He promptly leapt away. "Just one touch of the heart." She said.

"No!" Shouted the Doctor, but too late. Doomfinger placed her finger on Peter's chest and the man died instantly, like she'd turned out a light.

"A witch!" Shakespeare gasped. "I'm seeing a witch!"

She turned her finger to point at the others. "Now, who would be next, hmm? Just one touch. Oh, oh, I'll stop your frantic hearts. Poor, fragile mortals."

Martha rattled on the bars. "Let us out! Let us out!"

"That's no good. The whole building's shouting that." Said the Doctor.

Martha spun round to face this witch she was trapped with, pressing herself against the bars.

"Who will die first? Hmm?" Said Doomfinger.

"Well, if you're looking for volunteers..." Said the Doctor.

"Don't you dare!" Shouted Martha.

But Shakespeare saw what he was getting at "Doctor, can you stop her?"

Doomfinger laughed. "No mortal has power over me!"

"Oh, there's a power in words. If I can find the right one. If I can just know you..." Said the Doctor.

"No human being knows us!"

"Then it's a good thing I'm here. Let's see. Humanoid female. Uses shapes and words..." He scratched his head. "What else, what else... Oh! 14! The 14 planets of the Rexel Planetary Configuration!" He was pleased to see her cringe at that. "Creature, I name thee! Carrionite!"

The Carrionite screamed as ripples covered her and she phased out of the room.

"What did you just do?" Said Martha.

"I named her. Drove her away with the power of a name. That's old magic."

"But you said there was no such thing as magic." Said Martha.

"It's just a different kind of science." Said the Doctor. "You lot chose science. You lot chose mathematics. Get the right set of numbers together, you can split the atom. They use words instead."

"Words for what?" Said Shakespeare.

"The end of the world."

Doomfinger materialised back in the coven, gasping for breath. "He knows us! He spoke our name!"

"Then he will know death. He will perish at my hand." Said Lilith. At this point the bells outside tolled seven times. "My mothers, the time approaches. You must away to the Globe. Go. I will join you as soon as this Doctor screams his last."

Back in his lodgings, Shakespeare splashed water over his face to calm his nerves.

The Doctor was busy explaining more about the Carrionites. "They disappeared at the dawn of the universe. No one knows if they're real or legend."

"Well, I vote real." Said Shakespeare.

"But what do they want?" Said Martha.

"A new empire on Earth. A world of bones and blood and witchcraft."

"But how?"

The Doctor peered at Shakespeare. "I'm looking at the man with the words."

Shakespeare looked startled. "Me? But I haven't done anything."

"Hold on." Said Martha. "What were you doing last night when that Carrionite was in here?"

"What was I doing? Writing the last page of the script."

"What happens at the end?" Said the Doctor.

"The boys get the girls. They have a bit of a dance. It's all as funny and thought provoking as usual. Except..." He paled slightly. "Those last few lines. Trouble is, I don't remember writing them."

"That's it! They used you. They gave you the final words like a spell, like a code. Love's Labours Won. It's a weapon. The right combination of words, spoken at the right place, with the shape of the Globe as an energy converter! The play's the thing! And yes, you can have that."

As the bells tolled 8, Burbage pulled on the last of his King Ferdinand outfit and stepped out of the back doors on to the stage to read the prologue. "We left the lovers of Navarre by cruel chance separated, none to claim his heart, their labours lost. Now will they find Love's Labour's Won?" The crowd applauded. He never tired of applause.

The Doctor had found a map and jabbed it with his finger. "All Hallows Street. There it is. Martha, we'll track them down. Will, you get to the Globe. Whatever you do, stop that play."

"I'll do it." Shakespeare grinned. "All this time I've been the cleverest around. Next to you, I'm nothing."

"Oh, don't complain." Said Martha.

"I'm not. It's brilliant! Good luck Doctor."

"Good luck Shakespeare." Said the Doctor. "Once more unto the breech!"

"I might use that." Said Shakespeare. He paused. "Hold on... That's one of mine!"

"Oh just shift!"

From a private booth in the Globe, with a perception spell diverting the attention of anyone who looked their way, Bloodtide and Doomfinger watched as Ferdinand cradled Custard's head in his lap. "The eye should have contentment where it rests. This spun out year I watch on, groaning sick..."

The crystal ball in Bloodtide's lap squawked expectantly. She tapped the glass. "Have patience my sisters."

"Stop the play!" Shakespeare burst on stage. "I'm sorry, but this play must end!"

"Everyone's a critic." Muttered Kempe.

"I'm sorry. You'll get a refund. But this play must not be performed!"

"The word smith!" Bloodtide gasped.

"Fear not." Said Doomfinger. "I have the doll." She touched the side of the head and Shakespeare collapsed on stage.

"Is he drunk or what?" Said Kempe.

"Get him off stage!" Burbage hissed. As the "girls" carried the bard away, he stood up to address the crowd. "You must forgive our irksome Will. He's been at the beer... and feeling ill!" The crowd laughed and clapped and the play got underway again.

Even Doomfinger clapped along. "There is naught can stop us now."

The Doctor and Martha had reached All Hallows Street and stood, scanning the buildings around them, wishing Peter had been lucid enough to specify the house.

"Am I missing something though?" Said Martha. "'cos the world didn't end in 1599. It just didn't. Look at me. I'm living proof."

The Doctor thought for a moment. "How to explain the advanced mechanics of the infinite temporal flux? I know, Back To The Future!"

Martha raised an eyebrow. "The film?"

"No, the novelization. Of course the film! That boy, Marty. He goes back and changes things."

"And then he starts to fade." Said Martha, before going wide eyed. "Is that what's going to happen to me?"

"Time is always shifting, and time travelers shift it more. At some point, someone altered events further back, and that's given the witches an opening here, which we have to close. Because human history ends in 1599, unless we can stop them. But which house..."

Right on cue, a door across the street swung open with an ominous creak. "Make that witch house." Said the Doctor.

They stepped through and made their way up the stairs and into the covern, where Lilith was waiting. "I take it we're expected?" He said.

"Oh, I think death has been waiting for you for a very long time." She said casually.

Martha couldn't be bothered with this. "Right then. I think I know how this works. My turn. I name thee! Carrionite!"

Lilith pretended to gasp, then laughed.

"Did I do something wrong? It's the finger isn't it?"

"Power of a name works only once." The Carrionite smiled. "Observe:

I gaze upon this bag of bones,

and now I name you Martha Jones!"

Martha felt a sudden rush of darkness clouding her brain. In the space of a second, she'd collapsed.

The Doctor caught her. "What have you done!"

"Curious, she's only sleeping." Lilith observed. "It's as if she's cut off from her own time. As for you, Sir Doctor!" But that name had no effect whatsoever. "Fascinating. There is no name. Why would a man hide his title in such despair? Oh, but look. There's still one word with the power that aches!"

"Naming won't work on me."

"But your heart grows cold. The north wind blows,

And carries down a distant... Rose."

Suddenly angry, the Doctor stood tall over her. "Oh, big mistake. Because that name keeps me fighting! The Carrionites vanished. Where did you go?"

Lilith turned away from him and threw some herbs into the cauldron. On it's surface, the images of Carrionites long ago rippled up, tumbling down and down into a blackness thicker than anything on earth. "The Eternals banished us into deep darkness." She explained.

"And how did you escape?"

"New words. New and glittering. From a mind like no other."

"Shakespeare."

The cauldron shifted, to show an image of the playwright hunched over in his lodgings, looking grief stricken. "His son perished. The grief of a genius. Grief without measure. Madness enough to allow us entrance."

"How many of you?"

"Just the three. But the play tonight shall restore the rest. Then the human race will be purged as pestilence. And from this world we will lead the universe back into the old ways of blood and magic" The cauldron now showed the people of London running, screaming, as a huge swarm of Carrionites descended upon them. Some were trying to fight back, but all their weapons seemed to shatter as soon as they raised them to strike. The creatures slaughtering everyone before them.

"Busy schedule." Said the Doctor. "But first, you'll have to get past me."

Lilith grinned. "Oh, that should be a pleasure, considering my enemy has such a handsome shape." As she spoke, she gently pulled him close and slid her arm round his shoulders.

"Now, that's one type of magic that definitely won't work on me."

"Oh, we'll see." She yanked several of his hairs free and stepped back, waving them at him.

"What did you just do?"

"Souvenir." She shrugged.

With alarm, the Doctor realised what she was planning. "Give them back!" He leapt at her, but she casually flew backwards and out the window, hanging there, just out of his reach. "Now that's just cheating."

"Behold, Doctor. Men to Carrionites are nothing but, puppets." She pulled her doll from her cloak and attached some hairs.

"You may call that magic. I call it a DNA replication module." Said the Doctor.

"What use is your science now?" She said, and jabbed a pin into the heart of the doll. The Doctor screamed and fell.