by Brian Hayles
Again, the terrifying cry rang out. The Doctor quickened his pace along the gloomy tunnels of the castle. Suddenly, from the darkness lumbered the mighty Aggedor, Royal Beast and Protector of the Kingdom of Peladon!
The Doctor fumbled in his pocket. Would the device work? As he trained the spinning mirror on the eyes of Aggedor, the terrible claws came closer and closer...
What is the secret behind the killings on the Planet of Peladon? Is Aggedor seeking revenge because the King of Peladon wants his kingdom to become a member of the Galactic Federation? Will the Doctor escape the claws of Aggedor and discover the truth?
DOCTOR WHO AND THE CURSE OF PELADON
Based on the BBC television serial Doctor Who and the Curse of Peladon by Brian Hayles: by arrangement with the British Broadcasting Corporation.
BRIAN HAYLES
Illustrated by Alan Willow
TARGET
A TARGET BOOK published by the Paperback Division of W. H. ALLEN & CEO. Ltd
A Target Book First published in 1974 by the Paperback Division of W. H. Allen & Co. Ltd
A Howard & Wyndham Company 44 Hill Street, London Wt X 8LB
This edition reprinted in 1980
Copyright (c) 1974 by Brian Hayles
Doctor Who series copyright 1974 by the British Broadcasting Corporation
Printed in Great Britain by The Anchor Press Ltd., Tiptree, Essex
ISBN 0 426 10452 8
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publishers prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Contents
The Deadly Guardian
Into the Chasm
An Enemy from the Past
The Doctor Must Die
The Attack on Arcturus
The Temple of Aggedor
Escape into Danger
Trial by Combat
A Conspiracy of Terror
The Battle for the Palace
The King's Avenger
The Deadly Guardian
The electric storm clawed and tore its way across the night sky like a wild animal, flaring suddenly into ripples of lightning more eerie and majestic than the three moons of Peladon. The harsh wind, drowned only by fitful claps of ragged thunder, howled and keened through the crags and passes of Mount Megeshra while, far below, deep-shadowed valleys and canyons echoed and re-echoed to the almost continuous shudder of sound. Yet another blaze of light flowed across the torn sky, silhouetting the mountain peak. A mighty granite-stoned castle became starkly visible before slipping back into the darkness, its pointed turrets challenging the night. It was the Citadel of Peladon.
Inside the castle, thick walls reduced the winds sound to a chilling moan. On the walls, torch flames dipped and. guttered fitfully as Torbis, Chancellor to King Peladon of Peladon, strode purposefully through the shadows along the corridor leading to the throne room. His lean face grimaced as he shrugged himself deeper into his heavy cloak. At his age, every winter seemed colder than the last. But this year would be a famous landmark in the chronicles of Peladon - and part at least of the glory would be his, Torbis, Chancellor and mentor to the young king.
A growl of thunder reached him from outside, and he scowled. It was a black night, worst yet of the winter storms and Hepesh, High Priest of Peladon, would make the most of it. Although younger than Torbis by ten years, Hepesh held stubbornly to the past, scorning the future, foretelling its doom by omens. No wonder the aliens called Peladon barbaric. The past was important, but it had to change, to evolve - and Torbis was determined that it should happen soon.
As Torbis approached the great doorway to the throne room, the guards standing there brought their ornate pikes up to attention. Torbis casually acknowledged their salute. The guard commander moved to open the throne room doors, and Torbis glanced idly upwards at the massive statue set on the balcony over the entrance. With a small habitual gesture, Torbis acknowledged the stern image: a cruelly stylised rendering of Aggedor, the Royal Beast of Peladon, by tradition the spiritual guardian of the king. The chiselled face stared back sightlessly. Without giving further thought to the grim stone guardian, Torbis strode forward to meet his royal master.
Seated on the throne, Peladon watched affectionately as Torbis advanced and bowed his grizzled head in formal greeting. It was obvious that the old man was pleased. Peladon had good reason to share his pleasure. In spite of the well-meaning resistance of Hepesh, the High Priest, who now stood beside the throne, the promise that had once been no more than a dream would soon become reality. Peladon made a simple gesture of welcome. Torbis relaxed and stepped closer to the throne. His glance took in the two figures standing there: Grun, the King's Champion, superbly muscled, impassive and ritually mute; and Hepesh, whose dark eyes scarcely hid his quiet hatred.
Hepesh raised a richly-ringed hand to stroke his beard. His glance flicked away from the Chancellor's gentle face to that of the pale, handsome youth on the throne. He so resembled his warrior father in physique and bearing. But, because of the added graciousness and warmth of his mother the Earthwoman, the boy lacked the autocratic manner of the great Kings of the past. Yes, she was the source: breaking the royal bloodline, and planting the seeds of change not only in her son and Torbis, but in the minds of the whole Grand Council. She was dead now. Hepesh and Torbis had, as Regents, brought Peladon to his throne when he came of age, and he still sought their guidance and wisdom. There was still a chance that he could be persuaded - but time was running short.
Torbis spoke, proudly. "The delegate from Alpha Centauri has arrived, your majesty. We wait only the Chairman delegate from Earth."
"There is no point in wasting time, said Peladon crisply. "Alpha Centauri will present his credentials to me as soon as possible tonight."
Hepesh stepped forward, tight-faced and sharp-voiced. "Your Majesty - think again! This folly-"
Torbis turned on Hepesh, but spoke calmly.
"This folly as you call it, Hepesh, has been discussed and decided in Grand Council. You have had your say there and you were outvoted. Accept that decision!"
"Hepesh", interceded Peladon, "this meeting with the Commissioners of the Galactic Federation is only a preliminary discussion - nothing more that that..."
"You have been misled, Majesty - " retorted Hepesh earnestly. "Torbis and the fools who support him seek to discard the ancient ways of our people!"
"Superstition and ignorance may be the tricks of your trade, Priest", snapped Torbis, "but they are no foundation for a glorious future!"
"A future in slavery to aliens?" questioned Hepesh coldly. "Such a denial of our great traditions will surely bring the curse of Aggedor upon us!"
"Perhaps Aggedor has more faith in his people than you, Hepesh ..." growled the old Chancellor.
"The storm outside these walls has raged ever since the first alien landed on our planet, asserted the High Priest. "The omens cannot be ignored!"
Peladon stood, slight but commanding. "Torbis - Hepesh!" His young face was stern. "End this brawl!"
The old Chancellor stepped back from Hepesh reluctantly. "Omens ... he muttered. "It will take more than superstition to frighten me!"
"The spirit of Aggedor protects the throne," Hepesh observed acidly. "Do you deny his power?"
Torbis made to answer but turned to find Peladon standing between him and the High Priest. The two older men fell silent as the young king placed a restraining hand on each of them. His face carried rebuke - and
the reminder of past friendship. "Friends ..." he said, quietly, "you have been more to me than councillors or regents. Both of you - in your own ways - have been my father since his sad death..."
Torbis studied Hepesh deliberately, but his words were for the king. "My only allegiance is to the throne" he said.
"Then end this hate between you ..." begged the king, "for my sake ... "
The old Chancellor turned his tired face to Peladon, and nodded. "All I ask is that you do not forget your trust, he murmured, "or my teaching..."
Always the politician, thought Hepesh bitterly, as Torbis bowed before the king.
"Torbis", said the young king, "I shall not betray you - or my people..."
Hepesh could not remain silent. "But your majesty -"
Peladon quelled him with a glance. "Hepesh, there is no more to be said. If the Committee of Assessment judges us favourably, this planet will join the Galactic Federation. I expect your help to that end."
Peladon paused, his eyes searching the High Priest's face for the response he demanded. "Well?"
Hepesh said nothing, but bowed his head in silent agreement. The king was a child no longer; he must be obeyed. Peladon, satisfied, turned to Torbis, who stood with an air of quiet triumph.
"Bring the delegate from Alpha Centauri to me in formal audience, Torbis!" commanded the young king; and with Hepesh and Grun at his side, watched the Chancellor bow and depart from him.
Once outside the throne room, Torbis move to effect the king's order with the deliberate dignity of his ancient rank. No one would have guessed at his elation. Inwardly, his pleasure was immense; the king's assurances meant almost certain success for Torbis" plans. The clumsy attempt by Hepesh to delay the Committee of Assessment had failed. The bubble of superstition had been burst, and the young king had freely taken the bold step out of barbarism towards a new, magnificent future. Federation technology would mean that cultural and social advances normally taking a thousand years could now be achieved in less than a century! A new Peladon, stronger, more sophisticated, more civilised...
Torbis stopped, suddenly, the dream wiped from his mind. A deep, throbbing howl rang out in the shadows of the corridor, and terror gripped the old man like a vice. He could neither turn nor run; and as he stood, immobile, that terrifying cry sounded again, closer now and more menacing still. What he next saw made Torbis gape with terror and fall to his knees, defenceless. "Aggedor!" he gasped, cringing too late from the mighty claw that with one crushing blow struck him lifeless to the ground.
In the throne room, that dreadful animal howl had brought an immediate reaction from Hepesh. "Aggedor!" he whispered hoarsely, glancing towards the young king who, like Hepesh and Grun, stood frozen in alarm at the blood-curdling cry. At the second cry, Peladon was already moving towards the corridor, but Grun, his Champion and protector, ran swiftly before him in the direction of the danger.
Hepesh tried to hold Peladon back, speaking urgently to him: "Majesty-no! The danger is too great!"
Peladon shook himself free, and moved to follow Grun, now far ahead.
"It is Torbis who is in danger! Save him, Hepesh!"
With a warning glance over his shoulder, Hepesh ran ahead. Peladon, now escorted by his guards, lagged only a few paces behind.
Sword in hand, Grun quickly came upon the crumpled body of Torbis - but what he saw there stopped him in his tracks.
Few things could strike fear into Grun's heart. To him, death on the battlefield was nothing. Now he moaned with wordless terror, letting fall his sword and covering his face abjectly before the shadowy, majestic being that stood menacingly over the body of Torbis. One glimpse of that savage, white-tusked head was enough - not even Grun, mightiest of Peladon's warriors, could raise his sword against the Royal Beast and live. Then, as the King's Champion grovelled before him, the vengeful cry echoed through the castle once more, and, with a flicker of shadows, Aggedor was gone.
At the sound of approaching feet, Grun stood, shaken by what he had witnessed and, desperate to explain. Hepesh threw Grun only a cursory glance, then knelt by the body to check for any signs of life; there were none. Drawing the old man's cloak over the sightless face, Hepesh looked up at Peladon, and shook his head.
"Torbis ... dead?" whispered the young king, his face drawn with suffering. "But how - why?" He turned to Grun, his eyes fiercely questioning. "Grun - what happened?"
Puzzled, he watched as Grun knelt pathetically before him. He saw the intense fear which haunted the warrior's face. Grun pointed to the nearby cast-metal torch holder. It was formed in a hideous representation of the Royal Beast. Knowing that Grun, though mute, would only tell the truth to his king, Peladon turned anxiously to his High Priest.
"Aggedor ..." said Hepesh, grimly.
He rose to his feet from beside Torbis body, and studied his young master with bitter dignity.
"His spirit has risen", he declaimed. "The ancient curse of Peladon is upon us. We are doomed... "
Into the Chasm
The fury of the storm was increasing. The ceaseless flow of lightning across the sky threw the rocks and crags of Mount Megeshra into savage relief against the wind hounded shadows. Into that maelstrom of noise was pitched another - grinding, mechanical, unnatural ... and a shape unlike anything that had ever been seen on the planet Peladon. Suddenly, solidifying out of thin air, a chunky, dignified blue box fell victim to the winds claws. It lurched ominously, coming to rest on a rocky ledge poised over the chasm below. Heavy though it was, the strange box perceptibly moved, each time crushing against the brittle edge of the rock, and making its position yet more precarious at every moment. The wind, as though seeking to throw back this alien intruder, howled and screamed all the louder.
The interior of the blue box made nonsense of its drab outward appearance. Instead of what an Earthling of the 20th century would recognise as a police telephone box, its interior space was unlimited, and styled with an elegant futurism. At its centre stood a cylindrical complex of controls and monitoring equipment that would do justice to all but the most advanced spaceship; but the hands that operated the controls belonged to a tall, slightly theatrical figure, his exuberant shock of white hair topping a lean but humorous face, which smiled with boyish pleasure. He flipped one final switch, and the protesting mechanism groaned to a halt. His companion, her natural prettiness made even more beautiful by the evening dress she wore under her cloak, was less amused.
"There you are, Jo," said the Doctor. "A perfect landing - well ... nearly, anyway.."
"And about time, too." muttered Jo, impatiently.
The Doctor smiled benevolently, studying the controls with evident pride.
"Its alright for you to grin." pointed out Jo with irritation. "Here am I all dolled up for an evening on the town with Mike Yates-"
"And very pretty, too," complimented the Doctor, his eyes still checking the dials and gauges of the control panel.
"You are infuriating, sometimes!" exclaimed Jo. "Why I let you talk me into coming for a joy ride in this thing, I don't know!"
The Doctor looked pained. "Not a joy ride, Jo ... This is an occasion - the TARDIS" first test flight since I got it working again!"
Jo couldn't stay angry with the Doctor for long. Her face softened and she touched his arm as a sign of truce. "You and your toy," she smiled, shaking her head as though to a naughty child. "But it's me that's going to be late, you do realise that, don't you!"
"My dear Jo," comforted the Doctor, "we'll have arrived back only seconds after we left - if not sooner. This is the TARDIS, you know - not a number 88 bus!"
Jo moved to the doors, obviously keen to be on her way to her evening date. She turned and smiled at the Doctor, expectantly. "That's alright, then, she said brightly. "If you'll just open the doors and let me out ... "
But it wasn't going to be as easy as that. Jo knew it as soon as she saw the Doctor hunched over the controls, his boyish face totally enthralled by the sheer enjoyment of putting the
TARDIS through its paces again.
"Routine landing procedure first, Jo ... " murmured the Doctor, assimilating the variety of information offered to him by the telemetric displays. "Atmosphere ... gravity ... magnetic field... yes, all normal. Now - lets see what the videoscanner tells us..."
At the door, Jo waited with growing impatience. The Doctor flipped a switch and looked across the master-viewing screen. It was completely blank. Jo gave a little sigh. "Precisely nothing," she said, glaring at the Doctors rear view as he dived under the control console and started groping amongst the mechanism there.
"Aha!" he cried, reappearing and waving a small piece of electronic equipment at Jo. "Its the Interstitial Beam Synthesizer on the blink again!" He saw Jo's face, and hurriedly stuffed the gadget into his pocket, sheepishly. "... but Ill fix that later ... "
Something about the Doctors face troubled Jo, and a tiny flicker of apprehension brought a frown to her eyes.
"We are back at Base..." she asked the Doctor, "aren't we?"
"Of course we are," the reply came back with a beaming smile, "and it was a perfect landing."
The words were barely out of his mouth when the TARDIS gave a sudden shudder, and then an abrupt lurch. Jo was sent helplessly spinning against the control console, and from there bounced into the Doctor, who also had been thrown off balance. They steadied each other, but it was far from easy. The TARDIS was now at an angle well out of true.
"You did say ... perfect," Jo gulped, trying not to look alarmed.
"Oh, everybody makes mistakes, Jo." quipped the Doctor. But his face was grave.
The TARDIS shivered, and shifted again. The frown on the Doctors face grew deeper, and Jo clung to his arm even more tightly. Something was wrong! "Doctor..." she piped quaveringly, "are you sure were back at UNIT H.Q.?"
Holding on to Jo with one arm, the Doctor reached out with his other hand and operated the control switch that would open the doors to the world outside.
"There's only one way to find out, Jo," he said grimly, completing the operating circuit and moving towards the doors. "You stay here. I'm taking a look outside. . "