CONTENTS
Cover
About the Book
About the Author
Title Page
Dedication
Introduction
The Mondas Touch
Based on the story of King Midas
The Terrible Manussa
Based on the story of Medusa
The Unwanted Gift of Prophecy
Based on the story of the Cumaean Sybil
The Evil and the Deep Black Sky
Based on the story of Scylla and Charybdis
Jorus and the Voganauts
Based on the Argonauts’ encounter with the clashing rocks of Symplegades
The Vardon Horse
Based on the story of the Wooden Horse of Troy
Defiance of the New Bloods
Based on the story of Prometheus
The Kingdom of the Blind
Based on the Argonauts’ escape from the Cyclops
The Labyrinthine Web
Based on the story of Theseus and the Minotaur
The Angels of Vengeance
Based on the story of the three Furies and Orestes
The Jeopardy of Solar Proximity
Based on the story of Daedalus and Icarus
The Multi-Faceted War
Based on the story of Hercules and the Hydra
The Enigma of Sisterhood
Based on the lesser-known second riddle of the Sphinx
Pandoric’s Box
Based on the story of Pandora
Acknowledgements
Copyright
ABOUT THE BOOK
‘We are all stories, in the end. Just make it a good one.’
Spanning all of time and space, Time Lord myths and legends are epic tales of triumph, defeat, joy and sorrow that have been passed down from generation to generation.
From the tale of Princess Manussa and her giant snake Mara, to the story of the Vardon Horse of Xeriphin, the power and popularity of these legends reflect deep truths about the past, present and future of their worlds. Though the origins of these tales are mysterious, their significance is enduring.
An essential collection from the Time Lord’s mist-covered past, Myths and Legends is an unforgettable gallery of heroes, gods and monsters.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
RICHARD DINNICK is writer of TV, books and comics for the BBC, ITV and Disney, writing on Thunderbirds Are Go, Tree Fu Tom and Go Jetters amongst others. He also has several TV dramas in development.
He has written books and short stories for Doctor Who, Sherlock Holmes and Stargate. Richard is now writing on Titan’s Doctor Who comic range and Legendary Entertainment is developing his first graphic novel.
Richard lives in Norfolk with his wife, two children and a menagerie of dogs, cats and chickens…
To my beloved Clare, for everything.
INTRODUCTION
MANY OF THE stories in this collection come from our own early history – a period sometimes referred to as the Dark Time. As such, it can be difficult to establish whether everything that is contained within these pages is unequivocally true or simply embellished myth. Many of these tales, however, do help shed light on periods of our history that are otherwise shrouded in uncertainty.
You may be unaware of the colonies Gallifrey once had in our expansionist past, before time travel had been fully developed. We had both civilians and soldiers on the front line and often the greatest bravery or shrewdest stratagem came not from a General or Colony Leader, but from the lowliest echelons of their command.
We are given insight into these rarely seen levels in tales of military campaigns and even missions undertaken by a fledgling Celestial Intervention Agency. In the latter’s case this account has either been fabricated or declassified, we cannot be certain which.
Whether it is the lofty spires of the Capitol or the lowliest farm in the hills really does not matter. What is important here is not the setting, but the characters we find there.
Maybe that is the enduring nature of these myths. No matter which planet you’re from, we are presented with situations that we may all recognise. The familial bonds – mother and son, father and daughter, brothers, sisters, comrades in arms or simply those whose nature it is always to try to do the right thing, no matter the odds. They hold a mirror up to us and we recognise what we see in the reflection. Perhaps we even aspire to be that reflection.
While we may not face a giant red spider killing our friends or face the loss of our offspring at the hands of an evil race, we all face decisions that are universal in their nature. For life is a series of choices and the path we choose defines us. That fundamental truth is seen across the universe.
Some of these myths have come to us through our own storytelling tradition, while others have their origins either with established races or ancient worlds. There even seems to be a cautionary tale about a scheming member of our own Time Lord race. I am tempted to say that this character must be an amalgam of several other figures. However, we cannot be sure for the individual is never given his or her Gallifreyan name.
In reading these tales, there do seem to be occasions on which a mysterious character appears almost from nowhere to interfere and help things along. He could easily be dismissed as nothing more than a deus ex machina – a convenient plot device that is often employed in such legendary fare. However, I suspect there is more to this character – or archetype – than meets the eye. Despite the fact that we only have three or four instances of his appearing in this volume, he can be found woven through the tapestry of Time Lord myth and legend.
He is never given the same name twice and always seems to wear a different face. This has given me cause to wonder if he could even be a member of our own species – a Time Lord wandering his own history. Or perhaps he is a shape-shifting figure of help and guidance, or even a mischievous new-born god.
His purpose is clear: to aid those he finds in need. As is often the case in real life, we find ourselves faced with decisions and choices. Difficult ones. Ones we find easy to ignore because they are so complex or have far-reaching consequences. The status quo is easy. Change is difficult and it is at this juncture that this character can often be found. He is a catalyst of action and change. Something, I suspect, we could all do with on occasion.
This then is the cornucopia of myth and legend that awaits the reader but I must issue my warning once more: myths and legends are complex – if not in the telling then certainly in their history and derivation. Like me, you must pluck what bones of truth you may find within their bodies.
Chancellor Drakirid
Historian to the Bureau of Ancient Records on Gallifrey
THE MONDAS TOUCH
THE TWIN PLANETS of Dinasis and Bagoss were infamous. Dinasis, the smaller of the two, orbited its larger sister at such velocity it created gravity wells lethal to starships decelerating from hyper-light speeds.
This would not have mattered quite so much if Bagoss was not celebrated across the quadrant as the best place to get your hands on anything your heart desired. While its sister was renowned for the danger it posed, Bagoss earned its infamy by asking no questions about where the goods it traded came from or for what purpose they would be used.
The sleek dartship belonging to Seeker Sylen had come of out hyper-light some distance from these terrible twins. It had taken four days for the ship to reach orbit, but Sylen had not wasted her time. She had pored over maps of the fabulous market that spread across one-fifth of the planet’s landmass. She had read scout reports of the best traders with the most exotic technology. She had amassed a wealth of information about local customs liable to offend the market vendors or fellow buyers.
Now, after three weeks living and breathing the amazing, shocking and sometimes dangerous market life, her search was at an end. A VR chip dealer had told her – after many bottles of horudo – that he had seen the gauntlet in the possession of a merchant named Ki.
She’d first heard of a mythical glove on Pyro Shika, a fascinating planet in the Claudian cluster. The gauntlet was said to possess magical powers: to heal, to give eternal life, to repair sailing ships or ancient weapons. It was the glove of a god, they said. Following a sizeable donation to the religious order’s coffers, Sylen had been allowed to read holy texts in which it appeared.
Mythic it may have been, but Sylen was almost certain the gauntlet was real. That had been confirmed when she’d found the desecrated tomb of priest-king Xanthos in the ruined city of Sagli-Ghent. It was here that the gauntlet had once been buried. But along with a lot of other religious artefacts from the time, it was no longer there. The trail – albeit temporarily – had gone cold.
Then, several months later, on the trail of an ancient soldier supposedly driven by malfunctioning tech she met a women in a bar who offered some new information. She was an archaeologist – feisty and unconventional – who, over a sumptuous dinner Sylen bought her, mentioned that one of her more impoverished associates had been persuaded to join a shady tomb-robbing expedition to Pyro Shika.
Sylen had immediately asked the Professor what had happened to the team and its findings. She had laughed and given a sarcastic reply. Last she’d heard, the impoverished colleague – a rogue by the name of Cedo – was a rich playboy on some space station with a lurid name.
It hadn’t taken Sylen long to track down the station; not with a name like The Pink Monoid. It catered to the most imaginative appetites when it came to matters of the flesh. Sylen had travelled extensively, but even she had been shocked by what she witnessed there before she found the ex-archaeologist.
Cedo was a shadow of a human, haggard and sunken-eyed. He had all but spent his fortune on indulgencies of every fashion. So, for a price that would last him until the remainder of his life was done, he told the Seeker that the expedition leader had handled the sale of the artefacts. Sylen, seeing he was into his last days, risked asking specifically about the gauntlet. He’d grinned. ‘That gauntlet made me an even richer man.’
It was only after she’d found the expedition leader’s widow that she learned what he meant by that. A metal virus had killed many of the crew on the return journey from Pyro Shika. It was this that had increased Cedo’s cut.
Of course, now the treasure was cursed, and if anything drives the price up on stolen archaeological items it’s a good horror story. However, hardened thieves do not listen to such nonsense, and after the Solarium Panatica acquired the gauntlet it was stolen in a raid less than a year later.
From planet to planet Sylen had followed the trail; from private collector to thief and back again until the gauntlet had ended up on a freighter that had been lost. No insurance claim was made for the vessel as it hadn’t exactly been space-legal and its owner was keen to avoid the investigation. Only the owner’s assistant, a pathetic member of the Tovolian race, knew that the ship had crashed on Dinasis; he was only too happy to tell Seeker Sylen, once she had given him safe passage back to his occupied home world.
Knowing that the ship carrying the gauntlet had crashed on Dinasis, Sylen guessed that the planet’s native scavengers would have stripped it bare. They would have then sold the contents to a trader on Bagoss who would put it up for sale in the market.
If the drunken VR chip dealer was to be believed, that trader was called Ki and she was standing before his emporium now.
The sky overhead was a crisp light blue, criss-crossed with jet plumes from the trade skimmers and taxis that braved the chilly atmosphere. Here, beneath the dome, the temperature was kept constant and the sometimes overpowering odours were extracted by hovering fan-drones.
The emporium itself was the standard three-storey building, a little more battered than most. This didn’t surprise Sylen. She’d heard that Ki was down on his luck. That would make the deal all the easier. Sylen had located the gauntlet and her Queen would be very happy.
‘What an exciting tale!’
The woman who spoke was seated at the head of the table. She was poised and elegant, a slender neck leading to a noble, chiselled face; long, lustrous black hair fell below her shoulder, kept in place at the top by an angular crown that looked like both a sunburst and a mechanical cog.
Halfway down the metal table sat Sylen. She was surrounded by the other Seekers, all of whom had returned for the Ceremony of Giving. She was now wearing an emerald green cloak that marked her as an elite member of the Seekers of Catrigan Nova. The woman at the head of the table was her Queen, Lydia.
‘You have the gauntlet with you?’ the Queen asked. She was excited and nervous, like a child on its nameday.
‘Of course, Majesty.’
Sylen stood and tapped the touchscreen surface of the table. Immediately the doors that gave onto the Hall of Seeking opened with a slight hydraulic hiss. Two members of the Royal Companions – the palace guard – entered, resplendent in their bronze armour and helmets. Between them they carried a green velvet cushion. On this sat the gauntlet.
It did not look like much when seen in such surroundings. It appeared to be what it was: a piece of scrap, purchased from a dubious shopkeeper in a faraway place. But Sylen knew it was also so much more.
Queen Lydia regarded the gift with a fixed smile. Sylen could see she was trying not to hide the fact she was a little nonplussed.
‘Do not be unduly disappointed, Majesty. The gauntlet is ancient. But its powers are legendary.’
‘Legendary?’ Lydia asked, with a slight laugh.
‘Being legendary does not make them untrue,’ Sylen said. ‘I assure you. You need only don the mitt to discover its power.’
Lydia reached out her favoured left hand and ran it down the length of the glove. It was constructed from a grey metal that had long since ceased to shine; it was almost matte now. But, as the Queen’s fingers caressed the gauntlet, it seemed to shine where they passed, turning silvery.
Everyone saw and a collective gasp of approval came from around the table. The Queen seemed captivated. She picked it up and held the gauntlet to the glittering chandelier above to better see its construction.
It seemed almost like a perfect facsimile of a humanoid hand. Metal knuckles and fingertips, sinews and muscles that stretched from the back of the hand almost to the elbow. Queen Lydia hesitated but then with the encouragement of all the Seekers around the table, she slipped her slender hand and forearm into the metal glove.
She gasped as the metal inside the gauntlet felt almost alive. A pleasant tingling sensation spread from her fingertips all the way up her arm, way past the end of the mitt.
Lydia held up her arm before her, marvelling at the feeling she was receiving from it and the fact that it now looked almost new.
‘Can it be true?’ she asked, almost to herself. ‘The glove of a god?’
‘I think that unlikely, Majesty,’ Sylen said. ‘But I thought the one element of truth might be its ability to repair mechanical devices.’
The Queen smiled. ‘I would like to try out that theory,’ she said. Her eyes lit on the two Companions, now standing to either side of the Hall of Seeking’s main door. She beckoned one forward. ‘You!’
The armoured man stopped before Lydia, standing to attention. ‘Yes, my Queen?’
‘I just want to try something,’ she said. ‘Stay still …’
The Queen slowly reached out her gloved hand, the silvery mitt contrasting with the bronze of the Royal Companion’s armour. As the two metals made contact, there was a sizzling sound and the smell of soldering ozone filled the air.
At first the guard did nothing, but then he arched his back and stumbled away from the Queen, roaring in pain. The Seekers leapt to their feet as he doubled over and fell to the floor.
/> The Royal Companions had long been equipped with the best, bleeding-edge technology. Their body-armour could usually withstand all manner of projectiles and even some energy weapons, they could activate personal protection shields and had built-in communications devices and secondary weapons systems such as smart-darts and flash-bang stun pellets.
The other Royal Companion was reacting to his comrade’s situation now, speaking into the communicator housed in his right forearm armour. ‘Medical Emergency! Hall of Seeking!’
The Queen watched wide-eyed. A handful of the Seekers had drawn their weapons in case the man now posed a threat to Lydia. Sylen was one of them. She needed to appear most loyal – especially as she was thinking that perhaps her gift had not been the success she had hoped for. She could see a few other Seekers giving her sideways glances that confirmed they were thinking along similar lines. Especially old Gordias, the Seeker-in-Chief.
At last the man lay still and the second guard knelt by his side. The Queen and her Seekers gathered around, craning to see his face. The Companion’s eyes flickered for a moment and then opened. He started directly at Lydia.
‘Your Majesty,’ he breathed.
Several Seekers helped him up and, as he stood, Sylen could see that the golden armour on his chest had not only turned to a dull silver, but that it had changed shape. Instead of the smooth, beaten gold breastplate there was now a crude facsimile of his musculature: a series of ridged metal plates.
The Companion smiled and the Seekers gave a loud cheer.
Just then, a Court clinician rushed in flanked by two nurses, each with mobile infirmary packs over their shoulders. Behind them came a young woman. She was dressed as a noblewoman of Catrigan Nova: a simple, graceful dress of night-sky blue. You could see in her face that she closely resembled the Queen.
The clinician bowed and rushed past her to examine the Royal Companion.
The young woman ran towards the Queen. ‘Thank Catrigan!’ she said. ‘I thought they were talking about you!’
Doctor Who: Myths and Legends Page 1