by Doctor Who
'Either she lied,' Anwa said, 'or she's fantasising.
Her masters are dead. The Doctor's right. They all died at the end of the war.'
'All of them?' said Amy. 'Are you sure?'
'Oh yes,' Anwa said softly. 'We're sure.'
'Then I must have the chance to speak to her,'
the Doctor said again, and urgently. 'Before you try to take her by force. Perhaps if I talk to her, she won't come out fighting.' Seeing that Anwa was shaking her head, the Doctor carried on quickly, 'She's afraid of you, Anwa. She's been alone for a very a long time, without friends, without comfort 225
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of any kind. You know that you mean her no harm, and I know it - but she doesn't. She's terrified, but worse than that, she's powerful. She could do a lot of damage before you're able to stop her. I bet that's happened again and again in the past.'
Anwa gave a grudging nod.
'See? Those procedures! Sometimes it's worth trying something new. So if I can talk to her, make her come with you willingly, we might prevent more damage, more death. And it might be better for the Herald too. Because if she does stand down, then the battle to free her from Enamour will be half-won. You'll be saved a lot of hard work.'
Anwa sighed. 'After so long, I doubt the Herald knows where Enamour stops and her own self starts. But there's no reason why you shouldn't try, Doctor.'
The Doctor beamed at her. 'That's all I want to do.
Try.'
'Still,' said Anwa, 'Camba will be guarding your back.'
'I've no objection to that.' The Doctor looked around the room. 'All done? Meeting adjourned?'
'Meeting adjourned,' said Anwa.
Amy pointed at the pile of pens on the table.
'Anyone mind if I take one of those?'
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Chapter
13
Camba transported them back to the main plaza in Geath. When the crowd saw Hilthe, a great cheer went up. She waved grandly in response. Beol came to greet her and bent to kiss her hand. When he gave her his matchless smile, she smiled back, patted his hand, and tucked it under her arm.
Rory nudged Amy. 'Start of a beautiful friendship.'
'Her and her toy boys,' Amy said. 'Never mind, you've still got me.'
'Is the city safe now?' asked Beol.
'We have one last task to perform,' Hilthe told him and held out her hand. 'The ring, please, Doctor.'
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The Doctor rummaged in his pocket. 'Still think that I should do this.'
Hilthe waggled her fingers at him. Hand it over.
The Doctor sighed and pulled out the ring. It lay small and innocuous in his palm.
Beol frowned down at it. 'What is the meaning of this?'
Hilthe, retrieving the ring, told him, 'We have secured our alliance. Now we must honour its terms and work with our allies to defeat our common enemy. Stand back, all of you.'
They all moved back. Camba put her helmet on and faded into the darkness behind the dragon.
For the third time, Hilthe cupped the ring in her hands.
'Come!' she called up to the sky. 'Come back! I wish to speak to you!'
A soft whisper sweetened the night air.
'Come back!' Hilthe called. 'I am here! I am waiting for you!'
The whisper took shape and became a single note. Light formed in Hilthe's hands.
Beol, understanding suddenly what was happening, strode forwards. 'No! I forbid it!'
He reached to take the ring from Hilthe's hands but waves of golden light burst outwards in all directions, preventing his advance and enveloping Hilthe entirely.
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'Dear foolish boy,' Hilthe said. 'I am not yours to command.' Holding up her hands, she summoned the Herald. 'I am here! I am waiting to receive you! I have gathered your possessions! Now bring me my reward! Restore my city to me!'
The single note grew in volume. It stretched into a full chord, sweet and melodic, but Amy could hear the terrible hollow echo at its heart.
'Oh, be careful!' she cried to Hilthe. 'Please, be careful! Don't let her trick you! We're all here! I'm here! Remember! Don't forget!'
As Amy watched, the old woman's body went rigid and her flesh became translucent. She saw at once the difference between her own experience as the Herald's mouthpiece and this new manifestation. Instead of golden waves, a thick bright channel of light shot down from the sky and poured through Hilthe, emptying out of her chest and into the plaza. Hilthe was the prism through which the Herald's force and power and hungers passed and then took shape again. Slowly, the Herald materialised.
She crouched on the ground, a half-formed figure of lights and limbs. As her strength grew, she clambered to her feet. She resembled Hilthe, as if in passing through she had taken an imprint of the old woman's body, but she was longer and thinner and crueller. Her eyes were bright as diamonds 229
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and her lips were black. She was a creature of light and shadow, without nuance, and a star shone on her finger.
No, not a star, Amy realised; it was the ring. As the Herald took shape, the ring seemed to be in two places at once, in the old woman's hands and upon the long alien's finger. As soon as the Herald was wholly present, the light in Hilthe's hands flickered and went out. The ring was gone. The Herald had it now. Hilthe slumped to the ground.
'I have come,' the Herald sang across the valley. 'I have come to claim for my masters what is rightfully theirs!' Seeing the gleaming pile of treasure, the Herald stepped towards it. The excitement in her voice grew. 'We shall be reunited!
We shall be restored!'
The Doctor strolled forwards, vulnerable and completely relaxed. 'Hello!' he said. He gave the Herald a little wave. 'Remember me? We chatted earlier.'
The Herald, who had been advancing on the metal, stopped to look at him.
'Remember?' said the Doctor, shielding his eyes from her glare. 'In the hall? Under the dome? You told me about the war. You told me how terrible it was to see your world end. Remember?'
The Herald's black lips parted. 'Yes,' she whispered, the kind of whisper that makes 230
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foundations shudder and trees wither.
'Good! Hoped you would!' The Doctor tugged at his ears. 'Memorable face, isn't it? Bit odd, never mind, nothing's for ever. Like wandering about space on your own. How's that working out for you? Must be getting gloomy by now. Tell you what, how would you like to go home?'
The Herald, who had been turning back to the treasure, froze. 'Home,' she breathed.
'It could happen. If you want it to happen. I know how lonely you've been,' the Doctor said, with total honesty. 'I know what it's like, to see the world end, to wander the stars in search of something, anything. But you're not alone. Your species - it's not dead, not by any means! There are so many of them, and they're doing great things!
Marvellous things! They're kind people, they work hard, they have a future. You can go back to them.
You can be among your own kind again. You can share the peace they're building. You can be a part of it.'
'My home is with my masters. Where they are, I must be. I must be there to serve them.'
'I know you think that. I know you've thought it for a very long time. But it doesn't have to be that way
—'
'My masters are coming! They will take back what is theirs! The Bright Nobles will rise again!
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They will make a world of light and bliss!'
Amy, remembering that place, shuddered.
The Doctor shook his head. 'I'm sorry,' he said sadly. 'But that isn't going to happen. You have a choice now. You can go home in chains, or you can go home in peace. Either way, it's your home, and it's where you're going. There isn't anywhere else to go.'
'My masters are coming! Our world will be restored!'
'But they'r
e not coming. They can't. They're gone. But you still have somewhere to go.
Somewhere much better than the world you lost, much better than wandering alone in the dark, where you're welcome, where you'll be at peace.
You've been lost for so long. But everything can change, if you want it to change—'
As the Doctor spoke, a new harmony arose that scorched the air with its intensity. The Herald grew in stature with it. She rose above the valley and stretched out a long and many-fingered hand across it, like an angel of death.
'Liar!' she screamed. 'Deceiver! The Bright Nobles live! They are coming! You cannot hold them back! They will eclipse the sun and boil the sky! This world will burn at their touch! They will break the moon and extinguish your star! The heavens will bear no trace of your existence!' She 232
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lifted her hands up towards the dark sky as if in prayer. 'They are coming! They are coming! My masters!'
She lunged at the Doctor.
'Oops,' he said, and dived for cover. As he ran, he slipped and fell to the ground. The Herald moved in, her face raw with rage, her hand raised for the kill...
And Camba came, screaming. Her howl no longer held any note of despair. It was a war cry, a drawing of a line, a challenge to her enemy and a promise of her defeat. She strode across the plaza and with each step she shot up in height. As she bore down upon her enemy, the Doctor scrambled to his feet and dived for cover.
'Don't kill her!' he yelled to Camba. 'You mustn't kill her!'
The Herald moved against her enemy. Amy and Rory took their chance and ran to reach Hilthe. The old woman lay motionless in a dark heap upon the ground. Rory turned her over and Amy cradled her in her arms. 'Please! Wake up! Say something! Be cross about something! Anything!' But Hilthe's eyes stayed shut and her face was bloodless.
Above them, as if the Herald's threat was already coming to pass, the night sky was alight. A great battle unfolded before the people cowering in the city below. Two giants — one ebony, one golden -
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clashed like elements from the lowest point of the valley to the highest point amongst the hills. They blazed along the river, seeming almost to set it on fire with the force and fury of their feud. This was a hatred that had lost no intensity even though millennia had passed. The battle was visible for miles around. They saw it in Dant, and they saw it in Sheal, and they talked about it afterwards for centuries.
To Amy, the night seemed endless. Crouched beside the silent dragon, Hilthe cold and lifeless in her arms, she almost despaired of the battle ever ending. The spectacle became too much. She bent over the old woman, leaning in to kiss the top of her head. 'Please,' she whispered to her. 'Don't listen to the music. Stay with us. Stay with me.'
The world crashed into chaos all around her.
Then: 'Amy,' Rory whispered. 'Look! Look!' Amy looked. 'It's morning,' Rory said, and took her hand.
Pale dawn light crept into the valley of the Evesh. For a moment, the giants paused in their struggle, marking the change. And then Camba strode forwards and, with the golden sun rising at her back, descended upon her enemy like a cloud of vengeance, extinguishing the Herald's pale light for good. Now turning towards the dawn, Camba lifted her hands to greet the new day and sang her 234
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victory out across the valley.
Down in the plaza, Amy and Rory watched fearfully as the Herald shrank down to no more than their height and collapsed on the ground in a heap of long and broken limbs. Camba, shrinking more steadily, stood over her. She took off her helmet and placed it on the ground, and then communicated with her ship in a series of soft clicks and trills. Dark bands, like fetters, appeared around the Herald's thin wrists and ankles and the matter-transmission field took her.
Camba turned and came to kneel beside Hilthe.
Gently, she took the old woman's hand within her own long, still gauntleted hands. 'Mother,' she breathed. 'We have her now. She's gone for good.
We won.'
As if called back by Camba's words, Hilthe stirred. Her eyelids fluttered open. 'Camba!' she said. 'And the sun too! A long night - and such a strange one!' She lifted Camba's gloved hand and pressed her lips against it. 'My compliments to your mistress - and my grateful thanks to you.'
Camba bowed her head and withdrew. Hilthe closed her eyes again, but Amy could feel warmth returning to her body. She no longer feared for the old woman's life.
Camba communicated once again with her ship.
The metal quivered and faded from view. At last, 235
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only the dragon remained, its one red eye amused and watchful, its mouth still curved in its secret smile. Then it too trembled and disappeared. A loud, ragged, and undaunted cheer rose up from the plaza.
Hilthe opened her eyes. 'Has it gone?' she said.
'All gone, Mother,' said the Doctor. 'For good.'
'For the best,' Hilthe agreed. 'It was very gaudy.
Beautiful, in a certain light. But gaudy.' She closed her eyes again. A party came down from the hall to carry her home.
'I brought you a present,' Amy said to Rory, after Hilthe was safely on her way. 'You know.
From the dragon-ship.' She handed over the pen that she had taken from the meeting room. It had a little holographic logo on it. Rory twisted it around in his fingers as if it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
'For me?'
'With love.'
He reached over to kiss her on the cheek. 'Thank you.'
Under the fresh light of the new day, the old city of Geath was at last revealed in all its intricate and diverse design. The buildings were painted in various shades — some honey yellow, some dusty pink, some pale green — and the roofs were covered 236
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in terracotta tiles. Complex mosaics in bright stone decorated the street shrines and the fountains, and in the temples candles burned undaunted before bold and ancient frescoes venerating the departed. Floral baskets hung from doorways and archways and, in the long avenues, the trees shifted in the breeze, unburdened of any ornamentation. The dome of the council hall turned out to be made of pale blue glass, the colour of a duck's egg, which tinted the light in the hall and softly washed its white walls and soothed the tempers of those gathered to debate.
But the crack across the dome was still there, and the knights remained dead.
The three dead knights - the sum total of the casualties of the only war to come to the valley in over twelve thousand years - were laid to rest with great solemnity in the old burial ground on the western edge of the city. Two of the town's master craftsmen had already begun work on the mosaic that would commemorate them: a redecoration of the whole southern face of the council building around the main doors. Anyone coming to the hall would see it and remember the dead.
The funeral procession passed slowly through the streets. Beol and Hilthe walked together behind the three biers and bystanders showed respect in the traditional way, throwing wild flowers on the stone streets in front of the cortege.
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As the bodies went into the ground, Amy saw two dark figures standing some distance away, in the shade of an elderly tree. She tapped the Doctor on the arm. 'Look over there,' she whispered.
Anwa and Camba had come to pay their respects. Seeing they were noticed, Camba lifted her hand and placed it against her chest, in salute.
Anwa nodded to the Doctor, who nodded back.
When the ceremony was finished, the Doctor and Amy went to speak to them. Anwa passed the Doctor a little handheld device. 'Interim report,'
she said. 'The Herald is in transit to the home world. Her lifeboat has been traced and a division sent to dismantle it. We'll withdraw from local space when that task is complete.' She pointed a long finger to the screen. 'If I could direct you to the bottom of the page, Doctor,' she said. 'You'll see that Protocol Ni
ne Six One has been suspended
"pending review". All procedures surrounding first contact are now under review. In fact, I have a conference call on the subject starting in two-tenths.'
'Good.' The Doctor pocketed the report. 'Get it right this time.'
Anwa nodded. Camba saluted them both, and then the matter-transmission field enveloped them, and they were gone.
'Doctor,' Amy said, as they walked back to the 238
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main plaza, 'you still feel sorry for the Herald, don't you?'
The Doctor nodded slowly.
'After all she did. Still you tried to give her a chance for a new life and still she tried to kill you.'
Amy shook her head. 'I don't understand you sometimes.'
'Then try to understand her, Amy,' the Doctor said softly. 'Try to glimpse inside her world. The empire she serves comes crashing down. She waits for orders, but her masters are silent. No more commands. No more direction. She doesn't know what to do next. She escapes the last battle, only to wander for centuries, aimlessly, without purpose, alone, waiting for an order that can never come.
When she detected some Enamour, it must have been a lifeline. Her world returning at last. But it never could. It's been dead for centuries.'
He stopped walking. He put his hands in his pockets and contemplated the summer day: the green grass, the blue sky, the birdsong, the warm sun, the perpetual present.
'We're done here,' he said. 'Time to go.'
He wasn't quite done. In the main plaza, an envoy from Dant stood before the steps to the council chamber. A neatly dressed and rather jolly man, he stared around quite openly, looking for some 239
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sign that might explain the tremendous display in the sky the night before. When he saw Hilthe, he hurried forwards and gave her a smart bow.
'From the citizens of Dant, to our brothers and sisters in Geath, greetings!' he said. 'Mother, a pleasure to see you again!'
Hilthe shook her head. 'I am not the leader of the council,' she said.