Contents

A Price To Pay

9

A Warm Welcome

19

Lorton's Story

31

The Darksmith Connection

45

The Dark Cathedral

53

Strange Meetings

65

In The Library

75

The Colour of Darkness

85

Nightmare

97

A New Beginning

109

The Story So Far...

The Doctor has found the powerful Eternity

Crystal, which was stolen from the Darksmith

Collective by the Darksmith who created it --

Brother Varlos. The Crystal has the power to bring

dead matter back to life — like the corpses buried on

the cemetery planet of Mordane. The Doctor knows

the Crystal is so powerful it must be destroyed.

But the Darksmiths send a robot Agent to

recover the Crystal. When the Doctor is forced to

use the Crystal to save himself and his friends on

Mordane, the Agent finds it, and returns it to the

Darksmiths on their forbidding planet of Karagula...

A Price To Pay

The Doctor was used to running. Usually he was

running from things, often angry, deadly things

but right now he was running to something

— the TARDIS.. The disappearance of the Crystal

had shocked him but there was only one possible

explanation. The robot Agent had escaped from

the catacombs and taken the Crystal.

The Doctor forced himself to keep running at

top speed. Finally with his lungs bursting and both

hearts pumping like crazy he reached the TARDIS.

Quickly he unlocked the door and stumbled in

on his aching legs. He hurried to the console and

activated the scanners.

'Come on, come on, you can do it,' he muttered

trying to encourage the TARDIS' systems to do

the impossible but it was no good. There was no

trace of the robot Agent or the Crystal's strange

emissions on Mordane. The Agent and the Crystal

had vanished completely.

The Doctor knew that the Crystal was dangerous.

Too dangerous to be left with the Darksmiths.

There was only one thing he could do.

The Doctor swallowed. There weren't many places

in the Universe that frightened him but Karagula,

home of the Darksmith Collective was one of

them. Even when the Time Lords had been able

to go to places in force they had never approached

Karagula. Now he was the last of the Time Lords

and he would have to face the Darksmiths alone.

His face dark with shadows, the Doctor entered

the co-ordinates into the TARDIS guidance systems.

With a quick pump of the bicycle pump, a final

adjustment to the temporal buffers and a thump

on the spatial drift circuits with his rubber tipped

mallet the Doctor pulled the dematerialisation

lever and set his space and time craft in motion.

'Next stop Karagula,' he announced to no-one in

particular. 'I just hope this will be a return trip...'

Fra' Vallir strode gratefully into the shade of the

council hall's arching canopy. At this time of day,

the glare of Karagula's twin suns was too intense to

bear for more than a few minutes at a time. Even

the short walk from his own canopied quarters had

left the back of Vallir's neck prickling and his brain

half-baked. Normally the entire village would rest

through the midday burn. But today Vallir and the

other councillors had business to conclude.

He stepped lightly onto the council hall's floating

platform, and headed for the pair of beaten-out

alloy panels that formed the double-doors of the

assembly chamber. He paused for a moment in front

of them, feeling anxiety swell in his stomach.

What outcome would this meeting with the

witch-woman have? What would her price be? It

had been foolish of the council not to have agreed

on a fee before accepting her bizarre offer.

But then, thought Vallir, not one of us believed

for a moment that she could actually...

Pushing the doors aside, he entered the assembly

chamber. The other eleven councillors were already

present, seated around the chamber's horseshoe-

shaped table. Vallir made his way to his own chair,

between those of the council secretary, Fra' Sagral,

and the treasurer, Fra' Tramlor.

Sagral, whose dead wife has returned to him.

And Tramlor, whose daughter's sightless eyes now

see. How can such things come to pass?

He sat, and gave a nod to an attendant standing

at the chamber's side entrance. The clerk drew aside

its scrap-mesh curtain and ushered in a young,

dark-haired woman. She crossed to sit on the bench

encircled by the council table.

During her previous visit to the council hall a

few days ago, Vallir had been struck by the woman's

unusual beauty. There was a rich, misty softness

about her, almost as though one's eyes could not

quite bring her into focus. She wore the same

simple, pale blue robe and meek expression now as

she had that day.

But Vallir's opinion of her was utterly changed.

This woman had powers he could not comprehend.

She was as dangerous as she was beautiful, he was

sure. And the council was in her debt.

He cleared his throat.

'You seek an audience with us, madam?'

'Yes, Chief Councillor.' The woman's voice had

a hypnotic lilt. 'I trust you are satisfied that I have

fulfilled my part of our contract?'

Vallir shuffled awkwardly.

'You have done as you said you would. Though it

is beyond my understanding how you have brought

about such impossibilities.'

'Then the time has come, I believe, for me to

name a price for my services.'

'But within our means!' interjected a large, red-

faced man to Vallir's left. 'It was clearly stated that

your fee should be easily within our means!'

Vallir raised a hand for calm.

'Thank you, Fra Callord.' He met the woman's

cool gaze. As my fellow councillor points out, the

price, though yours to name, must be one that we

can comfortably afford — such was our agreement.'

'Indeed, Councillor.' She smiled archly. 'I can

assure you that the payment I seek will leave your

purses full. And I am glad you intend to keep your

side of our bargain.' She absently fingered a small

stone pendant that hung at her neck. 'I have friends

who would be unhappy to see me swindled.'

Dark looks fell across the councillors' faces. It

had been the pendant that had originally persuaded

them not to dismiss the woman's absurd proposal.

They had recognised the black flame design inlaid

in the rough stone only too well. It was the sign of

the Darksmiths. And a friend of theirs was not to

be offended lightly.

Vallir fixed the woman with a firm stare.

'The integrity of this council is not in question.

We made an agreement under Lithic Oath, and it

will be honoured.'

'Very well. Then I shall name my price.' The

woman paused, then continued matter-of-factly.

'Your children. My price is your children.'

A Warm Welcome

'Blimey — that is hot'

The Doctor wrestled off his suit jacket, and

lobbed it casually through the open doors of

the TARDIS behind him.

Screwing up his eyes against the glaring sunlight,

he took several strides forward to where the rocky

plateau, on which the TARDIS had materialised

moments earlier, fell away in a sheer drop. He

peered over the brink and raised an eyebrow.

'Little bit close for comfort. Probably ought to

tweak the avoidance sensors a smidge. Still...' — he

balanced precariously for a moment on one trainer-

covered foot, dangling the other out into thin air

— '... any materialisation you can walk away from..!'

Shielding his eyes with one hand, he scanned the

unfamiliar landscape from his cliff-top viewpoint.

It wasn't the most hostile environment he had

ever encountered. That had to be the acid-spitting

sulphur-fields of Gomrath's gas moons. Or possibly

the Newt and Noggin juice bar on Alphura III.

Nevertheless, the sun-scorched wasteland below

him looked rather less than welcoming.

A dry, rocky plain stretched away as far as his

dazzled eyes could see. Distant mountains formed

a jagged horizon. And above it all, the planet's twin

suns burned mercilessly in a pale, sickly sky.

'I can see the brochure now,' muttered the

Doctor. "'Come to craggy old Karagula." Perhaps

it's nicer in the not-quite-so-insanely-hot season.'

He could only hope the hunch that had brought

him to this dreary, dried-up planet proved correct.

This had to be where the Agent had brought the

Crystal, didn't it? Back home. To the planet of its

creators — the Darksmith Collective, of whom the

robotic Agent had spoken so reverently.

Something caught the Doctor's eye. A faint

dust-cloud hung over one area of the plain below.

Beneath it, he could see a cluster of pale, sail-like

shapes, each angled to reflect the glare of the sun.

The smaller ones were huddled around a giant

central umbrella-shaped canopy. In the shade it

cast, the Doctor could just make out a structure

of some kind.

'Signs of life. Time to get down there and meet

the locals.'

The Doctor's wish was fulfilled sooner than

expected. He turned back from the cliff-edge to

find five humanoid figures standing silently in a

semi-circle around him.

Humanoid, but not human, thought the Doctor.

You don't get humans with amber-coloured eyes.

All five were male, dark-skinned. They had a

thick yellow substance smeared across their cheeks,

the bridges of their flat noses and the upper surfaces

of their bare feet. And all were holding hunting

spears, tipped with razor-sharp shards of black,

glassy rock.

'Hello! Aren't you the stealthy ones. Didn't hear

you at all. Well, not much. Well...' The Doctor

stepped forward, hand outstretched. Anyway, I'm

the Doctor.'

He immediately froze, as five lethal-looking spear

tips jabbed to within centimetres of his throat.

'Ah. OK. N o t overly keen on strangers, then.

Fair enough.'

He smiled unthreateningly.

The men stared at him suspiciously, weapons

still raised. Beyond them, the Doctor could see two

more figures pacing cautiously around the TARDIS.

They were peering at it inquisitively, prodding at it

now and then with their spears.

'This may all be new to you,' continued the

Doctor, 'but it strikes me as a classic Take Me To

Your Leader moment, don't you think? If you have

a leader, of course. I mean, you don't seem the

savage, leaderless type. Which is nice.'

H e o f f e r e d b o t h u p t u r n e d wrists, clearly

indicating a willingness to have them bound.

' N o t t o o tight, p l e a s e . I l i k e to k e e p t h e circulation going in my fingers.' He beamed

broadly. 'I'm all yours!'

Bethin's head swam sickeningly as she teetered on

the brink of consciousness. As her senses returned,

her mind was suddenly flooded with information.

Her feet hurt. She was hot and terribly thirsty.

Her neck stung. And she was moving, walking.

She o p e n e d her eyes, then screwed t h e m

tightly shut against the white-hot sunlight. A

f e w seconds later, she tried again, lifting her

eyelids more cautiously.

She was walking up a gentle rocky incline. No,

not walking — marching, marching in a group. As

her eyes adjusted to the glare, she looked ahead,

then behind her. She was among a host of about

fifty children. They were plodding forward, in pairs.

All had their eyes closed and blank expressions on

their faces, as if they were sleepwalking.

Bethin spotted Tirril, her classmate, a f e w

rows back. Fra' Jared's son, two years her junior,

paced robotically beside her. In fact, the marching

group seemed to include all the village children

— although she couldn't see her brother anywhere

among them.

Where are we going? Why are we out in the open?

All villagers were taught from a young age to

avoid the unforgiving glare of their planet's suns.

The yellow paste of Samal flowers would protect her

face and feet a little. But in the height of day, Sun

Fever could take you within minutes. A daylight

hike beyond the protection of the village's canopies

was madness.

Keen to see where they were destined, Bethin

lifted her gaze beyond the head of the column of

marching children. And her heart missed a beat.

Ahead, a massive building loomed up from

the mountainside they were steadily climbing. Its

towering walls were smooth and dark, supported by

heavy buttresses of black rock. Bethin could make

out hideous gargoyles leering down from below

the arching stone roof. The whole structure looked as

though it had been carved from the mountain itself.

Bethin's shock broke whatever spell was forcing

her to continue her trance-like marching. She

halted. As the other children filed past her, zombie-

like, she stared up at the awesome edifice.

There was only one place this could be. The

Dark Cathedral, of which the village adults spoke

in hushed voices.

Suddenly, the other children came to a standstill.

As one, each pair separated, creating a channel

down the centre of their marching line. Bethin

saw a figure approaching along it and immediately

recognised the pale blue robe. It was the woman

who had come to their village only days earlier.

As the woman approached, Bethin's mental

image of her flickered strangely. The woman's figure

became blurred, out of focus. For a split second,

it was replaced by the image of a nightmarish

creature — multi-limbed with vast, blackened eyes

and reptilian scales.

An instant later, the vision passed. Bethin found

herself confronted by the blue-robed woman, who

now gave her a wry smile.

'You're a feisty one, aren't you young lady? Few have

the inner strength to override a Black Incense trance.'

Bethin continued to stare uncomprehendingly.

Her voice refused to function.

'No matter. An extra dose will prevent you

delaying our progress further.'

There was a faint hissing sound, and Bethin

thought she briefly saw a dark vapour trail in the

air. Then it was gone.

'Now — shall we press on?'

The woman turned, and began making her way

back to the head of the column. Watching her,

Bethin experienced another split-second vision of

an encrusted back, and long, scaly tail.

A s the w o m a n passed, the other children

fell back into their pairs behind her. In perfect

synchronisation, they began to march again. Bethin

felt panic rise inside her. Darkness was once again

seeping across her mind like a black inkblot. She

fought to stay awake, to drive the darkness back,

but it was no use.

Her last conscious sensation was of her own legs

once more falling into rhythmic strides...

On closer inspection, the settlement the Doctor had

spotted from the cliff-top proved fascinating. As he

was escorted through its outskirts — and into the

welcome shade of the spreading, sail-like canopies

that arched overhead — he marvelled at the peculiar

dwellings scattered around him.

They were ramshackle cabins, each built from

a wide variety of reclaimed materials; corrosion-

pocked panels of sheet-metal, bits of carbon-fibre

mesh, fragments of patched canvas. Each makeshift

structure was mounted on a rough timber platform.

It was these that caught the Doctor's imagination.

'They float! That's marvellous. Little houses bob-

bob-bobbing along!'

He dropped down to peer beneath the nearest

hovering platform's underside.

'And no sign of AntiGrav technology. How's

that work, then? Some sort of inertia-avoidance

system, is it?'

A firm spear-prod forced him to his feet, and

onward. As his captors marched him further

into the strange floating shantytown, the Doctor

noticed larger platforms carrying neatly ordered

agricultural plots. These were crammed with

assorted vegetables, fruits and cereal crops, many

of which he didn't recognise. Like the platforms

bearing homes, these agri-platforms hovered half a

metre above the planet's rocky surface.

And all the platforms were moving. Only a

centimetre per second, perhaps, but m o v i n g

n o n e t h e l e s s , d r i f t i n g steadily a l o n g i n t h e same direction.

The Doctor spotted an antique-looking magna-

couple lashed to a nearby platform, invisibly linking

it to its neighbour. Another coupling hitched this

platform to a third. The entire settlement was clearly

under tow, linked together like barges behind a tug.

'Moving house?' enthused the Doctor. 'Excellent!'

The Doctor's arrival seemed expected. On many

of the floating platforms, men similar in appearance

to his guards stood beside the entrances to their

homes. They watched his progress with hostile

glares. Their women-folk were with them, their

dark faces decorated with the same thick yellow paste.

No youngsters though, thought the Doctor,

unable to pick out a single child among the scowling

onlookers. That's odd. 'Kids all at school, are they?'

he asked.

The Doctor's query was met with a silence as

stony as the landscape — like all his previous attempts

to make conversation. Another prod in the back

urged him forward towards a slightly larger cabin

just ahead.

'Oh look at this. Posh-looking place like this has

to belong to someone important. Am I right?'

He stepped nimbly up onto the hut's floating

platform and felt it dip very slightly under his

weight. Another spear jab goaded him through a

flap of canvas in the cabin's front wall.

In the end, the Doctor's captors hadn't tied his

hands, settling for keeping their weapons trained

on him as they had escorted him from the cliff-

top. So now, as he faced the tall, stern-looking man

waiting inside the but — a figure of some authority,

judging by his robes and armed attendant — he once

again offered his hand in greeting.

As before, the gesture provoked a warning spear

thrust, this time from the guard at the man's side.

The Doctor hastily withdrew his hand, and

squinted distractedly at the glassy black spear tip

centimetres from his face.

'Nice spearhead. Carved from obsidian, I see.

Good choice. Best thing for creating a blade.

Molecular structure means it can be ground to

a finer edge than almost anything else. You guys

certainly know your rocks.'

'Stone-lore is central to the Karagulan way of

life.' The robed man's voice was deep and rich. As

you would know, were you native to this land.'

He gestured for the guard to lower his spear, but

remained hard-faced.

'But your appearance suggests you are from other

parts. The scout who was sent ahead to inform us

of your capture spoke of your arrival in a strange

blue craft... '

'The TARDIS. That's my sort of anti-gravity

m a g i c m o v e - a b o u t thing. A n d I'd b e really

grateful if —'

' S o you confess to being a trespasser on our

territory?'

'Well, I prefer the term traveller. You see —

'We do not welcome strangers to our village.'

The Doctor gave an ironic laugh.

'I'd sort of guessed. I'm unarmed. I was nice as

pie to your friends outside. Yet I've had a spear

shoved at me more times in the last hour than I

care to remember! Don't get me wrong, but my

idea of a warm welcome is more the cup-of-tea-

and-a-biscuit kind of thing.'

The man's face flushed.

'In the past, we have extended hospitality and

friendship to many guests. But such naivety has

recently cost us dearly.' A sadness crossed his face.

'The deceptions of our last visitor have left our

community desolate. If you find us suspicious, it is

not without reason.'

The Doctor gave a nod of acknowledgement.

'Fair enough. Once bitten, twice shy, I suppose.

But you needn't worry about me. Totally harmless.

Well — mostly. Well, no sinister intent, anyway.

Cross my hearts.'

The man held the Doctor's wide-eyed gaze silently

for several seconds, as though trying to get the

measure of him. Then he looked down awkwardly.

'I'm sorry. Until you have fully explained your

sudden appearance and stated your business before

the council, you must be held under lock and

key. For the safety of the village. The council will

determine your fate.'

He clapped his hands, and two of the Doctor's

original guards ducked through the entrance.

'Take him away.'

As the Doctor was shepherded out, he glanced

over his shoulder and flashed the man a friendly grin.

'No hard feelings. But see what you can do about

that cup of tea, mm?'

High Minister Drakon stood on the gallery of

the Dark Cathedral's cavernous entrance hall. He

watched as the ranks of mesmerised children filed

across the worn flagstones below.

Under his long hooded cloak, Drakon's form

could easily have been mistaken for that of a human.

But his hood shadowed a face that was wholly

alien. His head was hairless. The bones of his skull

were clearly visible through the tissue that covered

them. Generations of living out of the light had

left the Darksmiths of Karagula with little pigment

in their flesh. They shared the eerie translucency of

other creatures that burrowed deep into darkness,

or swam in lightless ocean depths.

Drakon watched the woman in sky blue robes

lead the children away along the blackness of one of

the Cathedral's main corridors. He didn't approve of

this Dreamspinner business. In the high days of the

Collective, when Brother Varlos had still been with

them, such petty dealings would have been scorned.

But since Varlos' betrayal, they had fallen on

harder times. Drakon himself chose to have nothing

to do with the Dreamspinner's strange concoctions.

But he knew many of his Brothers and Sisters — even

some of those in the Witan, the Darksmiths' ruling

council, were growing increasingly dependent on

them.

'High Minister!'

Drakon turned to greet a second cloaked figure.

'Brother Ardos — what news?'

'The Agent has returned, High Minister!'

'And the Crystal? Do you have the Eternity Crystal?'

Ardos looked a little uncomfortable.

' T h e r e is a slight problem, High Minister.

The Agent is back on Karagula. But we have yet

to actually retrieve it. The pod's re-entry systems

malfunctioned. It crash-landed, High Minister.

Communications have gone dead.'

Drakon scowled. Ardos hurriedly continued.

'But our probes on the surface are picking up

clear traces of the Crystal. It's out there, High

Minister. With the Agent, I'd guess. We just have

to determine exactly where.'

Ardos pulled a thin, slate-like tablet of rock

from under his cloak. He grasped its edges, and

it expanded to the dimensions of a laptop screen.

As Ardos tapped it with a translucent thumb, its

surface lit up.

'According to our scanners, the pod's wreckage is

located at the six sites shown here.' He pointed to

the display. 'The Crystal must be at one of them.

Our surface probes — marked A, B and C — are

all picking up traces of it. The signal is stronger at

Probe A than at Probe B, but strongest at Probe C.'

Drakon took the device impatiently from his

fellow Darksmith.

'Which means the Crystal is at a wreckage site

nearer to A than it is to B, but nearest to C,' he

muttered, scrutinising the display.

A few seconds passed in silence. Then Drakon

jabbed a finger at the display.

' S e n d a r e c o v e r y party to this w r e c k a g e

site immediately. They will find the Eternity

Crystal there.'

He handed the display device back. 'Bring me

the Crystal, Ardos.' Drakon's eyes burned with

determination. 'Only when it has been safely

recovered can the Darksmith Collective ascend to

its former glory. The Crystal is everything!'

Lorton's Story

The Doctor's cell was a basic affair — a makeshift

cage made from old metalert pallet-rods crudely

welded together. This unusual community was

clearly largely dependent on recycled junk.

E v e n so, w i t h o u t h i s s o n i c s c r e w d r i v e r , unfortunately tucked in his jacket pocket back in

the TARDIS, the Doctor was having little luck

trying to pick the door's heavy padlock.

He broke off his efforts at the sound of someone

approaching, expecting to see one of the burly

guards who had escorted him into this airless,

swelteringly-hot cabin an hour or more ago.

To his surprise, it was a child — a boy of about

ten years old.

'Hello! I hope you've brought ice creams. It's

absolutely roasting in here.'

The boy eyed the Doctor warily through the

barred cell door, then turned to where another cage

stood against the cabin's opposite wall. On a rough

bench inside this second cell lay an elderly, white-

haired man. He had been sleeping soundly since the

Doctor's arrival — despite the Doctor's best efforts

to engage him in conversation. This was evidently

who the child had come to see.

'A friend of yours? Boy, can he snore! Sounds

like a Slitheen gargling...'

The boy turned. The Doctor grinned warmly.

'Don't worry—I won't bite! Just making conversation.

I'm harmless, well mostly.'

The youngster spoke at last. "Fra' Vallir mustn't

think so, or he wouldn't have had you locked up.'

'Yeah, well from what I can gather, Fra Vallir

— he's the tall gloomy chap, yes? — thinks just about

everybody is a threat.'

The boy seemed to acknowledge this. 'That's

because of her.'

'Her who?'

'The travelling woman.' He glanced back at the

man in the other cell, affection clear in his face.

'The one that Grandfather thought was a monster.'

'And this is your granddad? How come he's got

himself locked up in here?'

The boy turned back to the Doctor. 'When the

travelling woman arrived in our village, Grandfather

went crazy. Really hysterical, like he was mad with

terror. He kept screaming and yelling about this

horrible creature he could see. But when he pointed

to where it was, he was pointing at the woman. It

made no sense.'

'Has he had strange visions before?'

'No, never. My sister and I tried to calm him, but

he just kept raving about the monster, and trying

to drive the woman out of the village. In the end,

the council decided he had to be locked up before

someone got hurt. They've been giving him peace

leaf — to keep him sedated.'

The Doctor saw anger flash in the boy's eyes.

'He w a s right, too,' the boy said. 'She was

a monster.'

'The travelling woman?'

'She called herself a "Dreamspinner". Said she

could "make our hearts' desires come true". Everyone

thought it was a load of rubbish, of course. But

the village Council made a deal with her. They said

that if she could prove she really could make our

dreams into reality, then she could name her fee.'

The Doctor nodded. 'Tell me.'

The boy frowned. 'And somehow — somehow I

don't understand — she did it. Made people's wishes

come true. She spent three days talking to everyone

in turn. Then, when we woke on the fourth day,

things had changed. Amazing things.'

'But at a cost, right?' the Doctor asked. He was

beginning to get a bad feeling about this.

'Since the woman had done as she'd promised,

the council said we had to pay whatever price she

named. And she demanded the children — all of

them. She rounded up every child in the village

— my sister Bethin, my friends, all of them — and

led them away.'

The Doctor was incredulous. 'But why didn't

somebody stop her?'

The boy shrugged. 'I thought the grown-ups

would stop it happening, or at least that the kids

would put up a struggle. Beth's pretty tough when

she wants to be. But it was like they were all in

some kind of trance, or something. The kids did

whatever the woman told them, and their parents

just watched as she marched them away. That was

over a week ago, and nobody's seen them since.'

'If she took all the other children, why not you?'

The boy's chin dropped a little.

'When they locked Grandfather up, I had a big

row with Fra Vallir. I ran away. Didn't last long

though. Two days later they fetched me back in a

sorry state. Sun Fever, and bad, too. On the day that

the Dreamspinner took Beth and the others, I still

wasn't fit to walk. They had to leave me behind.'

The Doctor's brow furrowed. 'Wish-granting

is strictly fairytale stuff It's not real. It doesn't

actually work. Well, not usually. Not unless there's

something very fishy going on. I think I need to

have another chat with your Fra Vallir.' He fixed

the boy with an earnest look. 'What's your name?'

'Lorton.'

'Well, Lorton, I can help your sister. And your

granddad. But not if I'm locked in here.'

The boy hesitated. He looked across at his sedated

grandfather, then back to the Doctor. 'What do

you want me to do?'

'Bravo! Bravissimo, in fact! What I need right now

is something long and thin, to pick this padlock...'

Lorton hastily delved in his trouser pocket.

He held out his palm to display a collection of

miscellaneous bits and bobs. As he did so, something

that looked like a small white pebble began to rise

impossibly from his palm into thin air. It floated

gently upwards, until the boy quickly snatched it

with his other hand.

'What's that?' asked the Doctor, intrigued.

'Float-stone,' replied Lorton. 'It's made from

Axite ore — you find little bits of it in rocks all over.

If you fuse enough of it together, it floats. It's what

they use to make the platforms hover.'

'Brilliant!' exclaimed the Doctor. 'It must be

repelled by the planet's magnetic core...'

Lorton rooted through his remaining treasures

and extracted a short length of thick wire. 'How

about this? Any good?'

The Doctor gave him a broad grin. 'Just the job.'

The Darksmith

Connection

'So — tea ready yet, Fra' Vallir? Pot still

warming, is it?'

If the Chief Councillor was alarmed by the

Doctor's unexpected entrance, he hid it well. He

rose calmly from his desk and met the Doctor's

smile with a stony expression.

'You have me at a disadvantage, sir,' he growled.

'I am yet to learn your name.'

'You can call me the Doctor.'

'Very well, Doctor. Give me one good reason

why I shouldn't summon a guard immediately.'

The Doctor became suddenly solemn.

'Because I know about the children. And because

I can get them back.'

Vallir looked as though he had been slapped. He

slumped dejectedly back into his chair. 'Impossible!

Believe me, there is nothing I desire more. My own

son is among those taken by that cursed woman.

But she made a legitimate claim. The council had

to concede to her demand. We are bound to the

foolish pact we made by Lithic Oath.'

'Not if you were duped,' replied the Doctor.

'Look, nobody has the power to make an entire

village's d r e a m s c o m e true. N o t t h e T o o t h

Fairy, not my Fairy Godmother, and not this

"Dreamspinner" woman. It's a set up. You've

been had. Tricked. Conned.'

'But the evidence is all around us,' insisted Vallir.

The woman did make our wishes into reality! Take

my fellow councillor Fra Sagral — his wife died of

Sun Fever four seasons ago. His heart's desire was to

have her back and now she walks among us again.

How do you explain that, Doctor? Or our smith,

Fra Ballord, whose crushed hand was restored?'

The Doctor wasn't deterred.

'The only way you could change current reality —

bring someone back to life, or un-squish an injured

hand — would be to travel back in time to alter the

past events that shaped that reality. But you can't

just tweak an individual's past to obtain a desired

change in their present. Timelines inter-relate, cross,

merge — it's a bit complicated. Timey-wimey.'

He leaned closer to the baffled councillor.

'But, what is possible — what is just possible — is to mess with someone's memory or their perception,

so that they think their wishes have come true.'

Vallir still looked flummoxed. The Doctor

ploughed on.

'What if Fra Sagral's wife didn't die four seasons

ago? Or your friend Ballord's hand was never

crushed? What if those are false memories that this

woman implanted in each villager's mind somehow.

Through hypnosis, maybe. Then the reality that

existed before she ever came along — that Mrs

Sagral was alive and kicking, that Ballord had

an unharmed hand — would seem like a dream

come true.'

Fra Vallir mulled this over for a moment.

'So you're suggesting that the woman changed

nothing in our lives, but only altered our collective

memory of our past so that we believed certain

desirable details of our present were the results

of her actions?'

'One big fat con trick. The secret to seeing through

it is to dig deeper into your false memories. There's

no way that she'll have been able to fill in the really

nitty gritty itty-bitty details. Like — who went to

Mrs Sagral's funeral, hmm? What did everyone eat

afterwards? Was it as hot as it is today? Who said

nice things, and who ate or drank too much?'

A clouded look came above Fra Vallir's face.

'I... I... can't remember... now that you ask me,

I have no recollection of a ceremony...'

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. 'Well, if your

lady friend hasn't delivered what she claimed she

would, then you're off the hook. What's the big deal

with this Lithic Oath, anyway? I'm all for keeping

promises, but I can't imagine any agreement so

binding that you'd settle it with your own children!'

Fra Vallir had looked briefly hopeful. Now his

expression became solemn once more. 'The Lithic

Oath — the Oath of Stone — is a bond upheld

by a terrible authority. The Dreadbringers of the

Darksmith Collective.'

'Ah' The Doctor's eyes lit up. 'Now you've really

got me interested. I've some unfinished business

with the Darksmiths. I've heard the legends of

course. I think I'm even in some of them. But who

exactly are they? Really?'

'Their history is, in part, that of my own people,'

said Fra Vallir. When our ancestors first colonised

this planet —'

'Lovely spot, too,' grinned the Doctor. 'Bit

hot though.'

'-- they found the ferocity of its suns too extreme

to endure. Countless generations ago, Karagulans

divided into two factions, each of which sought to

find a way to survive the solar glare.

'The surface-dwellers developed a nomadic

culture. We are constantly on the move, following a

seasonal migration across our world that ensures we

experience the minimum exposure to sunlight.'

'I get it. You chase the shortest day!'

'Exactly. By doing this, and by living mostly

beneath our sun-canopies, we are able to survive.

'The other group — the Darksmiths — sought an

alternative solution. They established a realm out

of the sunlight altogether — beneath the planet's

surface. Their civilisation did well, developing

advanced technologies in the darkness, establishing

trade-links with alien peoples. It survives today

deep under the mountains, accessible only via its

portal with the surface — the Dark Cathedral.'

'I've seen their advanced technology. Up close

and personal. Nasty but impressive. Is that why

you're so keen not to upset them?'

'In part. But there is a more critical reason. You

have seen how we surface-dwellers are dependent on

scrap materials for our buildings and technologies.

Resources on this barren planet are scarce. 'What

little materials we have — the ancient motors that

propel our village, the reclaimed metalert struts

that suspend our canopies — all come from the

Darksmiths' scrap heaps. If we offend them, or

those in alliance with them, our society's survival

will be in jeopardy.'

Fra' Vallir's expression became grave once more.

So, even if the Dreamspinner was a fraud,' he went

on, 'I cannot see how we can challenge her. She

wore a pendant that clearly showed her alliance

with the Darksmiths. I suspect she came to us from

the Dark Cathedral itself — at this point of our

migration we pass nearer to it than at any other.'

The Doctor clapped his hands abruptly. 'Well,

your hands might be tied, but I think I'll pay the

Darksmiths a quick visit. I just need a couple of

things from the TARDIS

' T h e blue box? I had it transported from the

cliff-side. It is in our safe-keeping —'

'-then it's time someone shed a little light on

the affairs of your Darksmith cousins... '

The Dark Cathedral

Lorton scrambled nimbly up to the next ridge

of rock and peered cautiously over its jagged

rim. The Doctor was still in sight, a little way

ahead. And he still seemed to have no idea that he

was being followed.

The climb was tiring in the intense heat, but at

least it was easy to find cover now that they were

on the craggy mountainside. Tracking the Doctor

across the open plain from the village had been

murder. Twice Lorton had thought he'd blown it.

Of course, I wouldn't have to sneak around at all

if he'd just let me come along. He was still angry

with the Doctor. Hadn't he helped him get free of

his cell? Only to have the Doctor agree with Fra

Vallir that Lorton was 'too young' to go with him.

Typical grown-up.

But Lorton wasn't going to be put off so easily. It

was his sister who was missing, after all. So he had

shadowed the Doctor carefully as he paid a brief

visit to the strange blue box that the scouting party

had brought down from the cliff-top. Then, as the

Doctor had set out alone, Lorton had followed.

A long, hot hike later, and here they were — nearing

the summit of a craggy ridge that ran between two

much higher peaks on either side. And Lorton still

had no idea where they were headed.

The Doctor, who had been scaling a steep bank

of dark rock just ahead, suddenly disappeared from

view. This must be it, thought Lorton. The summit.

He scrabbled quickly forward.

As he crested the ridge, the sight that met his

eyes took his breath away. The Doctor was now

standing only a few metres off, also transfixed.

Lorton ducked down instinctively, then took in the

amazing view.

Ahead of him, the land fell away steeply into a

deep valley. From the mountainside that formed its

opposite slope extended a vast, towering edifice of

black stone. The massive building seemed to Lorton to

radiate an overwhelming sense of malevolent power.

A horrific screech brought Lorton's m i n d

abruptly back into focus. Something large and

dark dropped suddenly out of the dazzling sky

and plummeted towards the Doctor. As it dived, it

emitted another ear-splitting scream.

Lorton saw the Doctor raise something with

a bright blue tip, only to have it dashed from his

hand by the swipe of a curved talon. As the Doctor

stumbled and fell, the creature swooped low to

slash at him. Then it rose once more, beating its

large, leathery wings, preparing for another attack.

Lorton dug urgently in his pocket and withdrew

his pouched sling-cord and a small white pebble

— another float-stone, like the one he'd shown the

Doctor. But this was one of half a dozen Lorton

possessed that had been lovingly carved and

smoothed, fine-tuned neither to rise nor fall, and

to fly as true as a promise.

Lorton loaded the sling, took a deep breath, and

stepped out from cover.

'Oi! Ugly!' he shouted.

The creature was hovering directly above the fallen

Doctor, clearly preparing for a death-strike. But

Lorton's yell drew its attention. It turned its thin red

eyes towards him, sensing the chance of additional

prey. With a series of powerful wing-beats, it sent

itself swooping his way.

Just a little bit nearer, thought Lorton, whirling

the slingshot rhythmically around his head, and

trying to hold his nerve. Must get a clear shot...

As the flying creature bore down upon him, he

unleashed the tiny white stone with all his skill and

strength. It hurtled towards the attacking beast

and caught it square in the throat. With a dreadful

cry, the creature plummeted to the ground. It gave

three agonised convulsions, then lay still.

Lorton let out a long sigh of relief. The Doctor

quickly regained his feet, and came striding towards

him, beaming broadly.

'Nice shot! Never seen a finer sling slung!'

The Doctor reached the spot where the dead

creature lay. He stared at it, fascinated, then

cautiously rolled it over with the toe of one shoe.

' W h a t is this thing, anyway?'

'Rock spoorl,' replied Lorton. He approached,

and knelt to retrieve his float-stone from beside the

dead beast. 'Grandfather says they're quite common

in the mountains. Those and cave scorpions. That's

why I brought my sling.'

'Lucky for me you did, though unlucky for him.'

The Doctor shook his head as if he actually felt sad

for the vicious creature. Then he wrinkled his nose.

'Did your granddad tell you how revolting these

things smell? Sort of rotten-egg-meets-Sontaran's-

gym-socks. Phew!'

L o r t o n grinned. 'Wouldn't h a v e bothered

Grandfather. He's got no sense of smell. He did tell

me what their weak spot is though — soft throat.

The rest is tough as old boots.'

'Well, I'm sure he would have been impressed

with the way you handled this one.' The Doctor

ruffled Lorton's wild hair. Then his expression

suddenly became stern. 'Though I think he'd be less

chuffed that you've followed me out here against

Fra' Vallir's orders...'

Lorton's grin faded.

'... what the heck!' continued the Doctor,

brightening once more. 'You just saved my life —

reckon that cancels out a bit of sneaking, don't you?

Tell you what — if you watch my back, and promise

to pick off any more flying stink-monsters, I'll let

you tag along. Sound fair?'

Lorton beamed once more.

'Mind you,' said the Doctor, 'you might regret

it.' He turned to look at the foreboding building

looming across the valley. 'I reckon whoever calls

that place Home Sweet Home is likely to be deadlier

than a whole squadron of rock spoorls...'

They had descended about halfway down the

treacherous valley side, moving silently in the

shadow of the massive cathedral, when the Doctor

suddenly gave a whoop of delight.

'You beauty! There she is!'

He scrabbled down the scree-covered incline and

began hastily clearing an area of the rocky terrace at

its base.

As Lorton joined him, he saw what the Doctor

was excited about. An unnatural crack ran around

a perfect square of rock. It was a door.

'Just where Vallir said it would be,' said the

Doctor. 'The Dark Cathedral has exit tunnels

running through this entire area. Only problem is

how to get it open.'

N o w that the Doctor had cleared the scree,

Lorton could see that the stone hatchway was

covered in an array of engraved symbols. A hairline

crack ran around each one, as though marking

individual stone buttons.

Lorton watched as the Doctor scanned the rock

with his strange blue-tipped tool.

The lock mechanism must be made of stone.

Can't seem to pick up the right resonating frequency.'

He gestured to a single line of spidery engraving

that ran below the rows of symbols.

'Does that mean anything to you?'

'It's Lithic script,' said Lorton. 'I'm not fluent,

but I can make out some of it.' He pointed at one

section of scrawl. 'This bit says "only the singular"

or "the one alone" — something like that.'

The Doctor stared at the strange symbols silently

for a few moments. Then his eyes lit up.

'Look! The symbols are in pairs! They're a bit

higgledy-piggledy — some of them need turning

round — but you can match each symbol up with

another one the same!'

Lorton looked, and nodded. 'But there's an odd

number of symbols,' the Doctor went on. 'So they

can't all pair up. Maybe that's what the "singular"

business is about — we have to find the odd one out!'

After a few minutes of concentration, they agreed

on the symbol in the second last row, second from

the right. The Doctor reached out to touch it.

A moment later, its button sank into the surface

of the stone. The entire square of rock dropped

and slid smoothly aside, revealing the entrance to a

narrow, darkened passageway below.

The Doctor grinned at Lorton. 'We're in!'

High Minister Drakon strode purposefully through

the entrance to the Forge Chamber — and entered

a world of heat, noise and industry. Half a dozen

Brother technicians were carefully moving a huge

crucible of molten metal to the far side of the

chamber, where it was to be poured into giant

casting moulds. Others were beating glowing

blocks of hot steel into thin panels. And to one side

of the entrance, a team of stone-techs were fitting

a fresh batch of polished granite shields with their

force-field circuitry.

Over the clang of hammer on anvil and the

heavy thumps of component presses, Drakon

barely heard Brother Ardos' yell of greeting. Ardos

was standing beside a large stone plinth not far

from the roaring mouth of the workshop's furnace.

He looked pleased. As Drakon joined him, he saw

why. Stretched out on the plinth was a battered

mechanical figure.

'The Agent! You have recovered it! And the

Crystal itself?'

'Yes, High Minister, it was found with the

Agent, at the site you specified. As we speak, my

technicians are keying our scanning systems to the

Crystal's molecular structure, so that we can track

its location more accurately in future. It will be

brought to you directly.'

' G o o d w o r k , B r o t h e r . A n d w h a t o f t h e A g e n t itself? W h a t news does it bring of the

traitor Varlos?'

Ardos looked sombre. 'As you can see, the Agent

suffered extensive damage in the crash-landing. Its

systems are in emergency hibernation. We have

yet to retrieve any information from its data core.

As soon as Sister Clathine and I have made the

necessary repairs to reactivate it, it will deliver a

full report to the Witan.'

'High Minister Drakon!'

Drakon turned to find Sister Hellan behind him.

'Apologies for the interruption, High Minister,'

continued Hellan, 'but you have a visitor.'

The translucent-yellow skin of Drakon's forehead

wrinkled in a frown.

'A visitor?'

'Yes, High Minister. A "John Smith". Special

Envoy of the Spiel Confederation. He claims

to have a business proposal. I've had him held

under guard.'

Drakon exchanged puzzled looks with Ardos,

then turned to leave.

'Very well. We will grant this John Smith an

audience. Though he is most unwise to enter the

Dark Cathedral uninvited...'

Strange Meetings

It's easy to see why they call it the Dark Cathedral,

thought Lorton.

The entrance tunnel had been dingy enough, but

here inside the heart of the Cathedral it was almost

pitch black. The blue glow of the Doctor's silver

gadget had helped illuminate things for a while.

But now that the Doctor had left him, Lorton had

to cope with the inky darkness around him as best

he could.

I thought I'd had enough sunshine to last a

lifetime. But right now, I'd give anything for a

bit of daylight.

He inched his way along the passage, running

his left hand along the cold stone wall as a guide,

and marvelling that the Darksmiths could survive

in these murky conditions. He could barely see a

metre ahead. How was he ever going to find Beth?

That was the plan. To try and find his sister and

the other children, while the Doctor took care of

some 'private business' he had with the Darksmiths.

'I'll be back in no time!' The Doctor had reassured

him. 'Well, not exactly no time. That would be a

TARDIS job. But as soon as I can, I'll come back

and find you. Then we'll see what we can do about

getting your sister and her friends out of here!'

But what if we're already too late? Lorton hoped

desperately that Bethin was still OK. She could be

a bit bossy sometimes, sure. But since their parents

died, she had done her best to look out for him. He

wasn't going to let her down now

His guiding hand suddenly slipped into thin air.

There was an opening in the left wall. He moved

awkwardly to the other wall and found that it, too,

ceased abruptly. But moving cautiously forward led

him straight into cold stone. He was at a T-junction.

As he stood in the darkness, wondering which

route to follow, Lorton's nose picked up a faint but

familiar smell. Orange blossom. The scent seemed

to be coming from along the passage on the right.

And Lorton could remember the last time he had

smelt it — when the Dreamspinner had come to

his village.

Without further hesitation, he began making

his way blindly along the right-hand passageway.

A blue light flared into life in the darkness. As the

Doctor held his sonic screwdriver high, it cast an

eerie glow over his surroundings.

He was standing in a cavernous underground

chamber. Its vaulted ceiling was supported by thick

granite pillars. Each was intricately carved, as was

the arched ceiling itself.

'Wow. Impressive. Someone around here is

seriously handy with a stone chisel.'

A massive stone table stood at the centre of the

chamber. Around it were seated nine figures, in

hooded cloaks. All were shielding their eyes against

the sonic's blue glow, clearly dazzled.

'Ah— sorry about that folks!' The Doctor grinned

broadly. 'But it's blacker than a black hole in a

power cut down here. Thought I'd shed a little light

on the situation.'

The grey-cloaked figure at the centre of the table

threw back his hood to reveal a skeletal face, thinly

covered by translucent, gel-like flesh. He scowled

at the Doctor, then spoke in a low, rasping voice.

'The Darksmiths of Karagula have no need of

light! We despise it! From darkness comes power,

creation and truth!'

'If you say so,' replied the Doctor pleasantly.

'I am Drakon, High Minister of the Witan, voice

of the Darksmith Collective,' continued the figure

in grey. 'State your business with this council,

John Smith.'

'Right. Yes.' The Doctor looked sombre. 'Well,

as I told the gentleman earlier, I'm here on behalf

of the Spiel Confederation. We govern a system of

planets in the Blarney Cluster. It's a system that's

always enjoyed great prosperity. Until recently.'

'Explain,' Drakon commanded.

'Well, our wealth is due almost entirely to the

Blarnian Twaddle, a native species of my home-

world. Its eggs are highly valued for their healing

powers, and fetch a good price. But about ten years

ago, the Twaddle began to die out — nobody knows

why. Then one day, no more Twaddle. And now

the species has been declared extinct.'

' W h a t is this to do with us?' another of the

cloaked figures rasped.

'Well, because we want to rebuild the Twaddle

population and the trade it supports. Which means

bringing at least one breeding pair back to life.'

The Doctor gestured to the council members

with his sonic, causing them to flinch back from

its light. 'That's where you lot come in. Amongst

other things, you have a reputation for being able

to create life from inanimate matter, I'm told.'

Several of the Witan exchanged shifty glances.

'So!' The Doctor looked round the shadowed

faces eagerly. 'A device that could bring dead remains

back to life — does that sound like something you

might be able to rustle up for us? Money no object,

of course...'

High Minister Drakon signalled for the muttering

around him to cease. He shook his skull-like head

slowly. 'Such a commission is beyond our powers.

Not even we can bring the dead to life.'

'Funny,' said the Doctor, 'because the word on

the intergalactic grapevine is that one of you — a

Mister Varlos, is it? — has already created

Drakon cut in, his tone menacing.

'Former Brother Varlos is no longer one of the

Collective. The commission you refer to was a

unique contract, undertaken for a unique client. It

was unsuccessful.'

The Doctor held Drakon's cold gaze for a

moment, then shrugged.

'Fair enough. Disappointing, but can't be

helped. You wouldn't lie, I'm sure. Let's face it —

the Doctor grinned, I'd see right through you!

Still,' he continued, 'while I'm here, perhaps I could

take a look at the sort of stuff you do take on? In

case there's anything the Confederation might be

interested in.'

Drakon paused, then nodded. He turned to

address one of his hooded colleagues.

'Brother Jaxal Escort our visitor to the Cathedral

Library.' He -looked back at the Doctor. 'Our

trading registers contain details of all the contracts

we have undertaken since the Collective was

founded, together with testimonials from satisfied

clients and favourable reviews from the major

lifestyle magazines where appropriate. And where

the contracts are not strictly confidential, of course,

you may browse them at will.'

'Brilliant. Thanks!'

Drakon rose to his feet, signalling that the

interview was over. Brother Jaxal hurriedly led the

Doctor to the chamber's main doors. As they closed

behind t h e m , D r a k o n turned to the crimson-

cloaked minister at his side.

'Brother Talen — check the stranger's story on

our systems immediately. There is more to this

John Smith than meets the eye, I fear...'

Lorton silently descended the last f e w steps of

the spiralling stone staircase. The scent of orange

blossom had grown ever stronger as he had followed

its trail, first along the darkened passageway and

now down these winding steps.

Fortunately, the darkness had gradually receded

a little. He had been able to make his way much

more easily by the pale green light that faintly

illuminated the passage, coming from somewhere

up ahead.

Now, as he stepped through the doorway at

the foot of the staircase into the chamber beyond,

Lorton could see the light's source. In one corner of

the square stone room stood an upright silver box.

Its entire upper half pulsed with green light. It was

connected by cables to a number of smaller devices

scattered on the floor around it.

But it was what lay in the other corner that

i m m e d i a t e l y b e c a m e the f o c u s o f L o r t o n ' s attention. A creature unlike anything he had ever

seen before. Its grotesque body looked like some

bizarre biological mix-and-match experiment, with

insect-like limbs grafted to a reptilian body, and

those huge, horribly damaged eyes...

'I smell your fear, child.'

The creature's speech was accompanied by moist

clicking sounds as its bizarre mouthparts moved

across one another. It stalked a little way towards

Lorton, then paused. He saw a series of narrow, gill-

like slits open in both sides of the creature's neck,

and heard the hiss of air being drawn into them.

'And yet there is a whiff of courage about you, too

— the same stench as on that stubborn girl-child.'

The creature inhaled again. 'Yes, you share the same

olfactory profile. She is your sister, perhaps?'

It meant Bethin, Lorton knew. Somehow this...

thing was involved in her abduction. His fear gave

way to a surge of anger.

'What have you done with her!'

The creature's mouthparts clicked rhythmically,

almost as though it was tut-tut-tutting. 'Such anger!

You reek of aggression, boy.' It moved a little closer.

'Perhaps you would be calmer if I were to assume a

more... familiar appearance?'

Lorton heard a faint hissing sound. His image

of the creature suddenly began to blur, as though

slipping out of focus. A m o m e n t later, it had

vanished completely. In its place stood an attractive

woman in pale blue robes, smiling sweetly at him.

A toolkit stood open among the devices on

the chamber floor. Lorton bent to snatch up

a metal bar f r o m it, t h e n f a c e d the w o m a n ,

wielding it threateningly.

'I asked you what you've done with my sister!'

The woman's eyes narrowed in cruel disdain, and

her smile became mocking. 'Your weapon is pointless

child. I will not attack you physically. There is no

need, when I can so easily paralyse your mind...'

There was another faint hiss. To his horror,

Lorton saw a dozen sinuous black shapes begin

oozing from the stone walls of the chamber around

him. They slipped to the floor, snakelike, and

started slithering towards him. They were eyeless,

but had wide mouths, lined with multiple sets of

razor-sharp teeth.

Lorton was seized by utter terror. The bar slipped

uselessly from his grasp. The monsters slithering

towards him were the stuff of his darkest dreams.

He reacted instinctively, in the w a y any child

confronted by their worst nightmare would.

He threw back his head and screamed and screamed.

In The Library

Brother Jaxal heaved the next volume of the

trade register from his library trolley onto the

stone desk. He had his eyes screwed up, as

though the light by which the Doctor was reading

— the pale glow of his sonic screwdriver — caused

him pain. He retreated silently to the dark aisles

of stone-built shelving to continue his search for

further documents.

The Doctor dragged the massive tome across in

front of him. Like the previous volumes, its jacket

was made of thick slate, or something like it. He

lifted the heavy front cover, and touched the dark,

smooth slab within. Its blank surface instantly

transformed, becoming pitted with line upon line

of engraved text. The Doctor read this first page,

then tapped the slab again. The original engravings

faded as a whole new page of inscribed text appeared.

The registers made impressive reading. At one

time or another, the Darksmiths had crafted more

or less every variety of technological device, from

matter-transfer systems to supra-lightspeed engines.

Even the famous Mortal Mirror that the Doctor

had himself encountered... Their trademark seemed

to be the use of both ancient and highly advanced

technologies, often combined in a single project.

They had fulfilled contracts for many wealthy and

powerful clients, from many galaxies.

But like the previous volumes the Doctor had

searched, this one contained no mention of Varlos,

or the Eternity Crystal. His quest to find out more

about the strange Crystal — to understand why it

had been created, and how it had brought about the

bizarre events on Earth's Moon and the cemetery

world of Mordane — seemed in vain.

Jaxal approached again, with another hefty

volume on his trolley. As the Doctor looked up

at him, he saw the librarian glance anxiously at a

small stone door in the nearby wall. The third time

the Doctor had caught him doing so.

The Doctor closed the book and heaved it aside.

'Talk about heavy reading!' He looked back to

Jaxal. 'By the way, I meant to ask — since this is a

library, can I take something out?'

The librarian looked at him warily. 'What?'

'Well — you, actually...'

Before Jaxal could react, the Doctor raised the tip

of his sonic to the librarian's temple. Jaxal slumped

to the floor, unconscious. The Doctor checked

Jaxal's life-signs, then crossed quickly to the door

that the librarian had been eyeing nervously.

' N o w — let's see what y o u were so keen I

shouldn't see... '

But the door was locked. And like the one that

he and Lorton had encountered earlier, it was

unaffected by his sonic screwdriver.

'Maybe if I adjust the resonating frequency

manually... ' muttered the Doctor, fiddling with the

sonic screwdriver's settings. He scanned it slowly

around the door's edge again. This time, there was

the satisfying clunk of a heavy lock releasing. As the

Doctor leaned on the door, it swung slowly open.

The Doctor found himself in a small, bare room,

occupied by only a stone table and chair. A large

book, similar to the volumes he had already looked

through, lay on the table. He crossed to take a

closer look.

The book's cover was entirely blank apart from

the faint impression of a stylised black flame — the

symbol of the Darksmiths. When the Doctor tried

to open it, he couldn't.

Then he noticed a second, much smaller book

— a notepad, perhaps — lying on the table with a

slim black stylus beside it. This one opened easily.

As it did so, several lines of hand-written text

immediately appeared on the slab inside:

Date: 42 /13 / 34 / 78

Access to Varlos' journal still denied.

No progress in overriding locking system.

The Doctor felt a tingle of excitement. So the larger

book was actually Brother Varlos' journal. This was

more like it.

Keeping its settings the same, he gingerly ran

the sonic screwdriver around the edges of the large

stone book. Nothing happened.

It took him several minutes experimenting with

different settings before anything did happen. Then,

suddenly, there was a rough, grating noise, and the

front cover of the book transformed before the

Doctor's eyes. A hidden panel slid open in the lower

part, revealing a row of five barrel-like stone dials.

Above the panel, parts of the cover's stone surface

sank away, creating several lines of inscription:

The stone man in each

of our souls even

death cannot wound

The Doctor hastily examined the dials. There was

a digit engraved on each. 'Standard combination

lock,' he muttered to himself, 'only made of stone.'

H e s t a r e d a t t h e text, p u z z l e d . W a s i t a Darksmith proverb? A riddle perhaps? Somehow,

it concealed the combination for the numerical

lock, he was certain. He grabbed the notebook

and stylus and copied d o w n the cryptic text,

one letter immediately after the next, to see if

this revealed anything.

Moments later, the Doctor gave a whoop of

triumph. He hurriedly set the numbered dials

to the five-digit combination he had uncovered.

First one, then nine, followed by four then seven

and finally two.

With a rasping sound, the entire front cover of

the book slid aside, into its spine. The dark slab that

was revealed beneath it carried another inscription:

The Eternity Device:

A development journal

by Astrule Varies

'Gotcha!' murmured the Doctor. He tapped the

slab again, then again. Page after page of text and

diagrams appeared in turn.

The Doctor heaved the book onto its right-hand

edge and examined its thick spine. Yes, there it was.

A small, circular socket set in the stone. A data-

transfer port. It must have revealed itself when he

cracked the combination.

He quickly inserted the unlit end of his sonic

screwdriver into the data-port. There was a series of

whirrs and clicks as it adapted itself to the socket's

configuration. Then its blue tip began to flicker

and pulse.

A few seconds ought to do it, thought the Doctor.

That was all it should take for the entire contents of

Varlos' journal to be uploaded to the TARDIS data

banks. He could look through it in detail once he

had recovered the Crystal.

Less than a minute later, the Doctor was back in

the main library, heading for the exit. Jaxal would

be coming round soon, so he had to make himself

scarce. The Doctor slipped out into the dark

passageway, once more using the sonic to light his

way.

Now, if I were a Darksmith, where would I keep —

The Doctor's thoughts were cut short by a

blood-chilling sound. The sound of a y o u n g

boy's terrified screams...

The Colour

of Darkness

The Doctor tore d o w n the spiralling stone

staircase. He was breathless now, having run

at full pelt along one dark passageway after

another. As he reached the bottom step, another

nerve-jarring scream split the air from just beyond

the doorway ahead.

He r u m m a g e d urgently through his jacket

pockets, pulled out an ordinary household clothes

peg, and clamped it over his nose. Then he strode

p u r p o s e f u l l y t h r o u g h the d o o r w a y into the chamber beyond.

Lorton was writhing on the stone floor of the

chamber, ashen-faced and wide-eyed with fear, his

arms thrashing wildly. It was as though he was trying

to fend off some terrifying, invisible assailant.

At the other side of the chamber crouched a

large creature. It was calmly watching the young

boy's frenzied struggle. Only it can't be watching,

thought the Doctor. Its huge eyes were horridly

damaged, clearly blind.

The Doctor hurried to Lorton's aid. 'Hold your

nose!' he yelled. 'Whatever you think you're seeing,

it's not real! Hold your nose!'

His peculiar advice must have reached some part

of the boy's tortured mind. Lorton pinched his

nose between finger and thumb. Almost at once,

his struggling began to subside.

The Doctor helped the boy, still trembling

uncontrollably, into a sitting position. Then he

turned to confront the creature angrily.

'This your idea of fun, is it? Scaring the living

daylights out of a child?'

The creature didn't respond. Instead, it inhaled

deeply, it neck-slits gaping to let air hiss wetly

past. Then it spoke. 'Your scent is rather...' — its

mouthparts click-clicked as though seeking the

correct word — '... unusual.'

'Oh, that's nice!' said the Doctor. 'If we're

getting personal, that flowery stuff you reek of

smells pretty cheap.'

The creature reared up. 'Every odour I emit has

been expertly crafted!' it spat. 'Every vapour has a

calculated effect, a unique purpose!'

The Doctor looked unimpressed. 'That's your

thing, isn't it? Smells. That's how you brainwash

people. Who exactly are you?'

'I am Shas-Raklat.' The creature's name sounded

like the rattle of bones. 'I am one of the Menim.'

The Doctor frowned. 'But I thought the Menim

were renowned for their visual sense...'

'Your knowledge serves you well. Since the depths

of time, my race has been famed for its power of

sight. Menim eyes can see in higher definition,

recognise greater subtleties of colour and form,

than those of any other race.'

"But not yours, eh?' The Doctor's tone became

sympathetic. 'What happened to them?'

The creature paused. 'My eyes were put out by

my own kind,' it said, darkly, 'as a punishment.'

'Blimey. What did you do?'

The creature's temper flared again. 'It is of no

matter! But can you imagine what it was like to

have inhabited a world of infinite colours, then to

be cast into one where there were none? Only the

colour of darkness...'

' I t m u s t h a v e b e e n terrible,' r e p l i e d t h e Doctor sincerely.

'It drove me to the brink of madness! But I

survived. I resolved to find a new way of seeing.

Through olfaction — through my sense of smell.'

The creature turned its head first one way, then

the other. Clusters of electronic components,

together with patches of something flesh-like, were

grafted to either side of its neck. Wires running

from them punctured the creature's skin.

'For many years I have worked on enhancing my

olfactory system. My modifications have magnified

my sense of smell many thousands of times. I now

see the world as clearly as before. But my colours

are aromas, my light and shade different nuances

of scent.'

'And I bet you synthesise your own odours too,

don't you?' said the Doctor.

'My abilities have given me unprecedented

knowledge of how different odours work upon

the mind. I have learned to mix vapours that have

whatever effect I desire on those who inhale them.

I can alter memories, create visions, stimulate

pleasurable emotions. There are many who will pay

handsomely for such fantasies.'

'So you're a drug dealer, basically.'

'I am an artist!' clacked the enraged creature. 'A

genius of olfactory illusion

'Yeah, yeah,' interrupted the Doctor. 'But this

smelly-mind-control rubbish of yours isn't exactly

super-effective, is it? I mean, look at me and my

young friend here. All we have to do is block our noses!'

The creature hissed menacingly.

'Then perhaps I shall have to resort to more...

basic methods.'

It lifted its scaly tail high over its back. With a

sickening squelch, a long spike slid out from its

bulbous end. Yellow liquid oozed from the tail-

spike's tip. The creature began to advance.

'Ah, well...' The Doctor did his best to seem

unfazed. 'When you put it like that...'

He turned to help Lorton unhurriedly to his feet,

smiling reassuringly. Then his expression suddenly

changed to one of wide-eyed urgency.

'Run!!'

It was only after they had put the spiral staircase and

several corridors between them and the alien creature

that the Doctor and Lorton came to a stop.

Lorton was the first to speak, between panting

breaths. 'So that thing... uses smells... to mess

with people's minds?'

The Doctor, bent forward, hands on his thighs

as he caught his breath, nodded.

'Is that how it made everyone believe that their

dreams had come true?' Lorton asked. 'How it

made me imagine those horrible snake things?'

'You've got it,' confirmed the Doctor. 'Aroma-

hypnosis. Smell control.' He reached for the peg

on his nose. 'Right — think I can safely remove my

olfactory blocker.'

He unclipped the peg and gave his nose a good rub.

'Ooh — that's better. Not very comfy, a clothes

peg on the nose. And hopeless for running.'

'But how did you know?' quizzed Lorton.

'Your grandfather,' replied the Doctor. 'He saw

our friend back there for what she was right from

the beginning, didn't he? The vapour she used to

make everyone else perceive her in humanoid form

— the pretty lady in the blue dress — didn't work on

him. Why not? You told me yourself — he has no

sense of smell. I should have figured it out sooner.'

'But why did she go to all that trouble at the

village just to get hold of the children? What does

she want them for?'

T h e D o c t o r ' s e x p r e s s i o n d a r k e n e d . 'I'm afraid that's the really creepy bit. Some of those

"modifications" to Shas-Raklat's olfactory system

were transplanted biological tissue. And the sensory

organs of the young are always more receptive.' He

grimaced, and went on: 'I'm afraid she wants your

sister and the others for olfactory spare parts. Nose

transplants. Not nice.'

Lorton went rather pale.

'My guess is that she's struck a deal with the

Darksmiths,' continued the Doctor. 'In exchange

for her providing a few batches of sweet-dreams-

in-a-bottle for them to sniff up and enjoy, they've

agreed to turn a blind eye to her abducting a few locals.'

'We've got to stop her!'

'And quickly,' agreed the Doctor. 'That glowing

thing in her chamber back there was charging a set

of light-drive cells. Which means she's planning to

leave Karagula soon.'

Lorton looked horrified.

'But,' continued the Doctor, more brightly, 'it

also means she's got a spacecraft parked somewhere.

If we can find out where that is, then we'll find

your sister.' He gave Lorton an encouraging wink.

And I know just where to look...'

Nightmare

One moment, the Agent's artificial mind knew

only the cold white stillness of hibernation

mode. The next, as its core systems came back

online, its powerful processors suddenly streamed

with silver threads of data.

Within nanoseconds, the robot's reactivated

programs had retrieved the error log that detailed

the damage it had sustained in its crash-landing.

One by one, its systems ran diagnostic checks.

Everything seemed to have been repaired.

The Agent swung its heavy metallic legs over

the side of the stone slab on which it was lying,

and stood up. The cloaked figure of Brother Ardos

stood beside the slab, eagerly watching the revival

of his awesome creation.

'Welcome back, Agent. Status report!'

'All systems fully functional,' boomed the robot.

Ardos looked smug — then somewhat surprised

as the robot continued.

'Scanners detect two unauthorised life forms in

Area Twelve. Infra-red body-heat profiles indicate

one intruder has alien cardiac morphology. Profile

matches to known enemy.'

'What?' Ardos was thoroughly confused. 'What

do you mean? Clarify report!'

'The Doctor,' thundered the Agent. 'The Doctor

is in the Cathedral. He is heading for the hangar.

This unit advises that he should be stopped.'

'Voila! The hangar!'

The Doctor grinned at Lorton's dumbfounded

look as the boy took in the massive underground

chamber, and the large matt-black craft squatting

at its centre.

And that little beauty must be our alien friend's

personal runabout.'

It was hard to make out much detail of Shas-

Raklat's ship. The only illumination in the hangar

— other than the pale blue glow of the Doctor's

sonic screwdriver — came from an open hatchway

in the spacecraft's near side. But even in the gloom,

the teardrop-shaped ship looked sleek and powerful.

'Come on.' The Doctor strode eagerly across the

hangar. 'Let's have a look inside.'

The door of the spacecraft's open hatchway

formed an access ramp. It led them into the ship's

main control area. Banks of consoles surrounded a

large, oddly-shaped chair, presumably designed to

fit Shas-Raklat's bizarre body.

'I'm going to look for Beth,' said Lorton, and

disappeared along a corridor that led further into

the heart of the spaceship.

T h e D o c t o r w a s a d m i r i n g a collection of

thousands of transparent phials held in row upon

row of racking against one wall of the control cabin.

Some appeared empty. Inside others he could make

out pale clouds of faintly coloured vapour.

' T h e D r e a m s p i n n e r ' s store cupboard,' he

muttered to himself. 'Each one an instant vision, a

bottled dream...'

He picked up a phial clouded with dark grey

vapour and swirled it in front of his eyes. "... or

a nightmare

'Doctor! I've found her!'

At Lorton's urgent yell, the Doctor slipped

the v a p o u r phial into his jacket p o c k e t and

hurried after him.

The passageway led to a narrow hold. Against

its side walls were pinned the bodies of over fifty

children, held in place by cocoons of clinging green

film. Lorton had found his sister at the far end of

the hold.

'Is she dead?' he asked.

The Doctor hastily scanned the tip of his sonic

across the girl's forehead. 'No. She's in some sort

of trance.'

Thin transparent tubes protruded from both the

girl's nostrils. The Doctor wrenched them free. A

moment later, Bethin's head swayed to one side,

and they saw her body stir under the green film.

Together they tore the cocoon away, and lowered

the dazed girl gently onto the floor. Her eyes

opened, and she gave Lorton a weak smile. Her

brother beamed back, and hugged her warmly.

The Doctor waited a few minutes while Bethin

came round. Then he took Lorton aside. 'Now

listen. I want you and your sister to revive all the

other children as quickly as you can. You've seen

what to do. Then lead them out of this place the

way we came in. Get yourselves back to your village.

Can you do that?'

Lorton nodded decisively.

The Doctor grinned. 'Good man!'

As Lorton immediately began removing the

nasal tubes from the other children, the Doctor

turned and made his way back to the spacecraft's

access hatch. It was time he got back to fulfilling

his main purpose — the quest that had brought

him to Karagula. Time to find the Crystal. He

hurried down the access ramp into the gloom of

the hangar.

'But what about you, Doctor?' Lorton called

after him. 'Why aren't you coming with us?'

The Doctor strode back to Lorton and laid a

hand on his shoulder. 'Don't worry — I'll make

my own way out soon enough. I just need to find

something that the Darksmiths took from me

'I think y o u m e a n that we took back from

you, Doctor.'

The Doctor spun round in alarm at the sound of

High Minister Drakon's sinister voice. The Darksmith

leader was standing in the hangar entrance. He was

accompanied by another cloaked figure, half a dozen

guards in gleaming battle armour, and the towering

mechanical hulk of the Agent.

'It is "Doctor", isn't it?' rasped Drakon sarcastically.

'Not "John Smith" after all? May I introduce my

fellow minister, Brother Ardos. I believe you've

already met his magnificent robotic creation. It

has been telling us all about your interest in our

property.'

His thin, translucent arm emerged from beneath

his grey cloak. His skeletal hand held a large, egg-

shaped Crystal that glowed with a faint blue light.

The Eternity Crystal. This is what you seek,

is it not?' Drakon stared silently at the jewel for

a moment. Then his lidless eyes narrowed as he

snarled at the Doctor. 'You will die before you possess

it again!'

'I don't want to possess it!' insisted the Doctor. 'I

just want to keep it out of harm's way. I don't think

you've got the slightest idea just how dangerous

that thing is.'

'You insult our intelligence!' screeched Drakon.

It was a Darksmith who created the Crystal, who

crafted it from raw matter with skills only our

race command!'

'Maybe,' conceded the Doctor. 'But even Varlos

had second thoughts about handing it over to

whoever ordered it, didn't he? Otherwise why did

he hide it on the Moon?'

'Enough!' Drakon raised his free hand, and

the six armour-clad guards strode forward and

unsheathed their weapons — two-handed swords

that fizzed with blue energy. The Agent, too,

stepped heavily forward.

The High Minister gave a cruel sneer. 'Either

surrender, Doctor, or meet your death!'

T h e D o c t o r l o o k e d u n d e c i d e d f o r a f e w moments, then gave a defeated sigh. 'OK. Not

much of a choice is it?' He gestured to Lorton, still

beside him. lust give me a second to convince my

young friend here to come quietly. He's a bit feisty.

Doesn't generally do surrender.'

The Doctor turned and leaned close to Lorton, as

though speaking coaxingly to him. 'You still got that

slingshot?' he whispered, with a meaningful look.

Lorton, hidden from the Darksmiths' view by

the Doctor's body, slipped the sling discreetly

from his pocket.

'Well done!' hissed the Doctor. 'I need you to

take out the big metal guy. Aim for the panel on

his left side. Looks like the controls for his auxiliary

systems. Might slow him down for a bit.'

It w a s the Doctor's turn to slip something

secretively from his jacket pocket — the small phial

of dark vapour. 'This ought to sort the rest of them.

Best hold your breath... ' He gave Lorton a wild

grin, eyes sparkling. 'This'll be something to tell

your granddad. Ready?'

Lorton took in a long breath, then nodded.

'OK... Now!'

The Doctor spun suddenly. With his best baseball

pitch, he hurled the phial at the stone floor just in

front of the Darksmith group.

The phial smashed, releasing a thin wisp of

grey vapour, which quickly dispersed. Almost

immediately, shrieks of raw terror came from the

Darksmiths. The armed guards dropped their

weapons and ran.

The Doctor's gamble was working — whatever

olfactory illusion Shas-Raklat had bottled in

the phial was scaring the living daylights out of

Drakon's cronies.

But not Drakon.

'It's a trick, you weak-minded fools! An illusion!'

raged the High Minister, his bony hand clasped to

his nose. 'Come back!'

The Agent, too, stood its ground.

'Kill them!' Drakon screamed at the robot,

thrusting a translucent finger at the Doctor.

But Lorton w a s ready. As the Doctor had

thrown the phial and stepped aside, Lorton had

immediately begun whirling his slingshot. Now he

unleashed its float-stone missile.

The small white stone flew true as an arrow,

striking the Agent's auxiliary control panel.

The impact triggered the massive robot's rocket

thrusters. They flared into life, sending the Agent

rocketing upwards and sideways, out of control.

Drakon was sent sprawling by the Agent's

unplanned take-off. As he hit the floor, the Eternity

Crystal spilled from his bony grasp.

The Doctor seized his chance. Darting forward,

he snatched the rolling Crystal from the floor, then

turned for the spaceship.

'Get on board!' he yelled at Lorton, sprinting for

the access ramp.

A moment later, his path was blocked by the

powerful figure of the Agent, as it landed heavily

just ahead of him. The Doctor froze, helpless, as

the robot levelled its arm-mounted lasers at him.

But the blasts that shook the hangar an instant

later didn't come f r o m the Agent's weapons.

Instead, they came from a gun turret mounted on

top of Shas-Raklat's spaceship. The wild barrage of

laser fire hit the stone floor just beside the Agent,

sending it lurching to one side.

The Doctor looked up to see Bethin, eyes wild

and teeth gritted, wrestling with the controls inside

the turret's transparent bubble.

'Nice one!'

The Doctor gave the young girl an enthusiastic

thumbs-up. Before the Agent could regain its

footing, he sprinted past it and raced up the access

ramp. Lorton hurriedly hit the switch to seal the

hatch behind him.

There w a s a dull thud and the Doctor and

Lorton both staggered as the ship shook violently.

T h e A g e n t w a s directing its firepower at the

spacecraft's exterior.

' W h a t n o w ? ' a s k e d L o r t o n d e s p e r a t e l y .

'We're trapped!'

The Doctor pocketed the Crystal, then dashed to

the ship's flight controls, where he began frantically

tapping buttons and throwing switches.

'Bethin!' he yelled. The gun turret's circular hatch

was just above them. 'I need you to cut us a way

out! Aim at the roof and give it all you've got!'

There was a rather nervous 'OK' in reply, followed

by a long burst of laser fire. Falling fragments of the

hangar's massive stone roof doors came thundering

down on top of the ship's hull.

As the rain of rubble subsided, Lorton looked

up through the control cabin's transparent canopy.

He could see a patch of sky through the gash Beth

had blown in the hangar's sealed doors.

A n o t h e r blast f r o m the A g e n t ' s w e a p o n s

rocked the ship.

'Right,' said the Doctor purposefully, clutching

a control column in either hand. 'I think it's safe

to say we've outstayed our welcome. Time for a

swift exit.'

He pulled back on both columns. Lorton clutched

at the console beside him as the ship swung wildly

into the air, bucking like a rodeo horse.

'Or any sort of an exit,' muttered the Doctor,

reaching for the main throttle.

An instant later, Lorton was sent sprawling as the

ship shot like a bullet through the ragged opening

in the hangar doors, into the clear sky beyond.

A New Beginning

It had taken the best part' of a day to turn the

village around. The battered traction tugs that

hauled the floating platforms were ancient, and

agonisingly slow. Getting them to complete the

wide arc necessary to set the village moving back in

the direction it had come from had taken an age.

Then each and every canopy had needed realigning,

to deflect the deadly glare of the suns.

But the villagers had done it. And at long last,

they were heading back towards the Dark Cathedral

to reclaim their children.

Fra Vallir stood on the foremost platform,

looking eagerly ahead.

After the Doctor had set out for the Cathedral,

Vallir had given the stranger's words a great deal

of thought. He had been right, of course. Valhi-

could see now that the so-called Dreamspinner had

played him and the other villagers for fools.

But we were bewitched. Bewitched into giving

up our own children.

Since the woman had left the village, it had

felt as though a fog had slowly lifted from Vallir's

mind. The sluggishness that had prevented him

from resisting her had passed.

It hadn't taken him long to persuade the other

councillors that they had made a terrible mistake

— that whatever the consequences might be for

standing up to a friend of the Darksmiths, they

could not be more terrible than the loss and shame

they all now felt.

I only hope we're not too late to put things right.. .

O u t of the corner of his eye, Vallir caught

a movement in the sky up ahead. A rock spoorl

probably. He squinted against the glare of the suns.

Yes, there it was. A dark dot moving across the

sky. Moving quickly...

Vallir watched in astonishment as the dark

speck grew rapidly. This was no flying beast. As

it approached at amazing speed, its form became

clearer. It was a winged vessel, a flying craft of a sort

Vallir had never seen before.

The machine swooped low over the village

canopies. The roar of its engines caused many other

villagers to rush from their cabins. They gaped in

open-mouthed amazement as the craft looped

around to approach again, more steadily.

The ship slowed to a hover, then settled gently

on the dusty terrain. The roar of its engines died to

a gentle whine.

Vallir watched, pulse racing, as a hatch in the

strange craft's side hissed open to form an access

ramp. Is this some device of the Darksmiths? he

wondered anxiously. Are we to face them so soon?

But it was a familiar suited figure that came

striding cheerfully down the ramp. And at his side,

dishevelled but triumphant-looking, were young

Lorton and Bethin, with whose grandfather Vallir

had so recently made peace.

The Doctor gave a friendly salute. 'Good to

see you again, Mr Vallir!' He beamed up at the

bewildered Chief Councillor. 'I think we have

something on board that belongs to you...'

And bursting from the spaceship's hatch behind

him, yelling excitedly to their parents as they

streamed down the access ramp, came a mob of

bedraggled children, led by Vallir's own son.

Less than an hour later, Lorton and Bethin stood

inside the TARDIS, gaping at its mind-boggling

interior.

O n c e t h e flurry o f t h a n k s a n d q u e s t i o n s following his return with the village children

had died d o w n , the Doctor had wasted little

time getting back to his craft. He was keen to see

the Eternity Crystal safely stowed in the stasis

box and back inside the TARDIS once again. It

had seemed only fair to let his new friends come

along to take a look around.

'There!' he said, closing the stasis box. 'Safely out

of harm's way again. Now then...'

He crossed to the main console, and fired up one

of the system displays. As his fingers flew lightly

across the console, the data he had uploaded to the

TARDIS systems scrolled across the screen.

'Either of you two any good at puzzles?' he asked,

frowning at the display.

As Lorton and Bethin joined him, he gestured

to the screen.

'This is stuff from the journal I found in the Dark

Cathedral library. But it's incomplete. Old Varlos

clearly decided to abandon his "Eternity Device"

project — whatever that is. He must have fled the

Collective. If I'm going to find out how to put the

Crystal out of action permanently, I need to track

him down.'

He froze the display, and gestured for them to

take a look.

'This was the last page he wrote. See the scribbled

bit in the bottom corner? Some bizarre symbols,

and four six-digit numbers arranged around a cross.

I thought it might be a clue of some kind.'

Bethin peered at the line of script. 'That's

Lithic,' she said quietly. 'It's a sequence of letters

and numbers.' She hesitated. 'F... then S... then a

five, two zeros, an E, a one and a nine.'

The Doctor scribbled as she spoke, then gave a

triumphant whoop. 'Of course! You're a genius! It's

a Fijavan Survey code!'

Both children looked at him blankly.

'A location reference,' explained the Doctor.

'The Fijavas were cartographers — map-makers.

They dedicated their lives to plotting the positions

of the known galaxies.' He was hastily tapping on

a keypad as he spoke. 'Their Survey was the first

attempt to map the universe. They divided it into

sectors. Each one was defined by a simple code,

beginning with 'FS'. Here we go...'

A grid-lined star map had appeared on a second

display screen.

'...Sector FS500E19.'

The Doctor looked back at the last page from

Varlos' journal and pointed to the rough sketch of

the numbered cross.

'These six-digit numbers are the grid references.

And the cross is telling us to plot lines from this

point to this point, and from this one to this one!

I'll bet my hat that where the lines cross is where

Varlos was heading!'

He tapped at the keyboard again, and the two halves

of the puzzle were combined on a single screen.

'Right!' The Doctor clapped his hands. 'Well, now

I know where I'm headed...' He turned to Lorton

and Bethin with a resigned look. "...I really ought

to be going.'

Both children looked down glumly. The Doctor

wrapped an arm warmly around each of them.

' A n d y o u t w o had better go check on your

granddad,' he said, as he escorted them down

the ramp to the TARDIS doors. 'Don't want him

getting locked up again, do we?'

Lorton managed a grin.

'At the doorway, the Doctor paused. 'There

should be enough advanced equipment and

materials in Shas-Raldat's ship to give your village

a major technological leg-up. You won't have to

skulk around for Darksmith leftovers any more.'

He bent to give each child a final brief hug, then

straightened. 'Now — scram!'

As the double doors closed, the Doctor stared

thoughtfully at them for a moment. Then he

bounded back up the ramp to the console, and

began frantically programming the navigation

system with the new co-ordinates.

He checked on the screen, where the solution

to the puzzle Varlos had left THE his diary was now

displayed. The Doctor's destination, the Flydon

Agglomeration, covered a big area of space, but

right at the co-ordinates Varlos had hidden in his

puzzle was the planet Flydon Maxima.

The Doctor knew that the planet was known by

another name as well, but it didn't put him off.

'Right then, Flydon Maxima — brace yourself...'

He threw a final lever, and the TARDIS started

on its journey through space to the planet known

as Despair.

'... because here I come!'

'The fool!' spat High Minister Drakon, watching

the small glowing blip move steadily across the

scanner screen. 'He seeks to escape us — believes

himself to have succeeded in stealing the Eternity

Crystal from us!'

He gave a dry, callous bark that was as close to a

laugh as his kind could muster.

'Now that our scanners are keyed to the Crystal

itself, it will be child's play to track his course, for

all the cleverness of his ship's shielding systems.'

Drakon looked up from the scanner to address

the other Witan ministers gathered around him.

'This is most satisfactory. To fulfil our contract,

we must deliver the Device to our client fully

operational. Only the traitor Varlos knows how the

Crystal is integrated in its workings. And now this

meddlesome Doctor will track him down on our

behalf. All we need do is follow!'

A figure in a brown cloak stepped forward,

somewhat nervously. 'With due respect, High

Minister, our Agent's analysis of his physical make-

up suggests this Doctor could be a Time Lord.

What if his vessel can indeed travel the Space-Time

Vortex? Might he not hide, or seek Varlos, in a past

or future time — somewhere we can't follow?'

'Have faith, Brother Stemnos.' It was Sister

Hellan, robed in deep purple, who now spoke.

There is nowhere the Doctor can hide. Brother

Ardos and Sister Clathine have been working on

the Agent since its recovery. They assure me that

in its latest configuration, its space-time-travel

capabilities are greater than ever. It is unstoppable.

And even now, Ardos is supervising its dispatch. It

will pursue the Doctor mercilessly — through space

or time.'

Another Witan member, in a cloak of emerald

green, stepped forward — Brother Krazon, Minister

for Justice.

'I share Sister Hellan's confidence in Ardos'

magnificent creation, High Minister,' rasped Krazon.

'Nevertheless, there is a possible contingency plan,

in case Varlos or the Time Lord should evade our

Agent once more.'

'Go on.'

'In the eyes of intergalactic law, the Doctor's

removal of the Crystal, in the full knowledge of its

rightful ownership by our Collective, constitutes

c o m m o n theft. A n d under Clause 374 of the

Shadow Proclamation, "theft of an artefact of great

cultural value legitimises the use of lethal force to

ensure the artefact's recovery".'

High Minister Drakon's thin, colourless lips

spread in a cruel sneer. Are you saying...'

'Yes, High Minister. We can lawfully set our

Dreadbringers in pursuit of the Doctor.'

Drakon's eyes flared with malevolent passion. 'Do

it, Krazon! I want the Dreadnought Adamantine

space-worthy within the hour, carrying a full

battalion of your finest soldiers.'

Brother Krazon nodded smartly, and hurried away.

Drakon looked back at the glowing blip on the

scanner screen, slowly moving away from its centre,

and gave another dry cackle. 'That's right, Doctor

— run! Run as fast as you can. For, by stone and sun-

fire, you have incurred the wrath of the Darksmiths

of Karagula — and now your very nightmares are

coming after you!'

To Be Continued...