The Killertrine Storm Page 3

  Shutters were swinging open, people spilling out onto the streets through previously bolted doors. Gatherings of curious onlookers quickly grew into a crowd, at first merely following at a distance, but soon surrounding the troupe, increasing in size until it began to achieve critical mass, pressing in angrily upon the six soldiers and their prisoner.

  The atmosphere was sparking with heightened emotion, and the Doctor sensed the mood was turning ugly. The people of Worcester had lived under the yolk of

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  fear for months and, as far as they were concerned, here was the cause of their misery, a target upon whom they were ready to exact vengeance. Who could blame them, thought the Doctor. Just a shame they had the wrong alien.

  This trip had been on a downward slope since he'd stumbled upon that Krillitane. OK, so it hadn't eaten him, which was undeniably a good thing, but maybe this time he'd run out of lucky breaks.

  They're going to kill him,' hissed Emily, through gritted teeth. It was no good. She'd have to risk direct intervention, and worry about the consequences later. There were a few cover stories she could call on if need be, but she had to move, and move fast.

  Stripping off her jacket, revealing a close enough approximation of local costume underneath, Emily stowed her kit deep in the roof's eaves. They would be safe enough from prying eyes there until she had a chance to retrieve them.

  'Here goes.'

  'Keep back,' shouted Darke, pushing back another surge of citizens, some shouting abuse at the bound and gagged prisoner. This was getting nasty, thought Darke, as he bellowed an urgent order to his men: 'Close ranks and present arms.'

  The troops drew their weapons and moved closer to the Doctor, facing down the increasingly angry mob.

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  The Doctor became vaguely aware of a young woman, fighting her way through the crowd nearby, crying out for her husband. He hoped nothing too bad had befallen her partner, but there were rather more pressing matters demanding his attention, like that noose he'd noticed being swung over a gibbet, a short distance away.

  Suddenly, the same woman had forced her way past the armed guards.

  'Husband. What have they done to you?" she exclaimed, rather theatrically.

  The Doctor was more than a little taken aback when she tore the gag from his mouth, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, passionately and repeatedly. Even if she'd given him the chance, he was too shocked to respond.

  'Oh, my love.' The girl turned her head to the Captain. 'Untie him, you beastly men. This is my husband.'

  'Get away from the prisoner.' Darke attempted to drag the hysterical woman away, but she struggled and kicked so hard that he had to step back.

  A horn sounded, and the mob fell silent and backed away as a full squad of soldiers rushed into the fray. Darke breathed a sigh of relief. In the confusion, he'd almost forgotten he'd sent the messenger for back-up. The lad would earn a commendation for carrying out his orders so swiftly.

  An uneasy quiet had fallen on the crowd, the wind of retribution taken from their sails. Darke took advantage of the sudden calm.

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  'Return to your homes,' his grizzled voice boomed. This city remains under curfew, and those caught flouting it will be flogged.'

  Mumbling and muttering, the crowd began to disperse, hurried along by the additional troops whose arrival could not have been more welcome.

  Only this crazed woman remained, clinging on to her so-called husband like a limpet.

  'Release him at once,' Emily demanded again. 'You've got the wrong man.'

  That's what I've been trying to tell them,' piped up the Doctor.

  'Dearest wife,' he added for good measure, grateful at the unexpected appearance of this young blonde woman, whoever she was.

  'Guards, restrain her,' ordered Darke. This was the last thing he needed.

  'Unhand my wife, sir,' bluffed the Doctor, an indignant tone in his voice.

  If this soldier could be persuaded they were married, he was happy to play along, at least for the time being. 'I had nothing to do with that murder.

  My wife heard a scream, and I rushed out to help. I could have ended up being the Huntsman's dinner.'

  'We live nearby,' interjected the girl, helpfully. 'If you hadn't arrived, sir, the Huntsman would have surely devoured my husband. I am forever in your debt.' She moved away from the Doctor and hugged Darke, gratefully.

  Darke extricated himself from her embrace, and looked from one to the other. They made an odd pair,

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  their clothing too well made for them to be of peasant stock. If they had connections, then to cross them would not be wise. Perhaps he had misjudged the situation, in the heat of the moment? Darke had to admit that, at best, the evidence he had against this man was circumstantial. Still, there was definitely something about the prisoner of which to be wary. He had something of the Devil about him, and Darke wasn't going to just let him wander off unguarded.

  'Release him,' the soldier ordered, finally, and one of his men cut the Doctor's bonds.

  Thank you,' said the Doctor, rubbing at the sore rope burns on his wrists. 'I'm Smith, John Smith, and this is my wife... Mrs Smith.'

  'Save your thanks. You will be confined to your dwelling until your story can be corroborated.'

  The woman was now hugging the prisoner again, face buried in his chest, but the intimacy seemed forced to the Captain.

  Darke nodded at two of his troops. Take them to their lodgings and make sure they're secure. I'll return at daybreak to take a statement.'

  As the guards ushered them away, the Doctor stole a quick glance at the girl who'd saved his life, and noted her breeches and boots were both made from artificial fibre. Yet another visitor to planet Earth, then? This place was getting more like an intergalactic bus station by the minute.

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  lation and blind panic fuelled the flight of the _Krillitane they Ecalled Toeclaw, as she forced her wings ever harder, desperate to put distance between herself and the city.

  It wouldn't be long before they realised what had happened, and she knew it was only a matter of time before they pushed the button that would end her life. She had to get out of range.

  The man-thing had deserved his death, and Toeclaw had enjoyed killing him, her belly still warm with meat and the thrill of the hunt.

  Muscles straining, weakened and unfit through lack of use, she felt her strength failing. If she could only keep her wings beating until she reached the hills to the south of the city and could lose herself in their rocky outcrops

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  and valleys, the power of the signal might be dampened sufficiently and she would be safe.

  No sooner had this thought, this hope, crossed her mind than a flash of indescribable pain burst across her shoulders. Her wings folded and crumpled, useless and heavy, and she was falling, tumbling, towards the ground. Her body became numb, as the muscular spasms that engulfed her body began to subside, and she felt consciousness slipping away.

  She would die on her own terms, not theirs, she resolved. Not like this.

  With a start, the Krillitane regained consciousness. She was lying in the dark shadows of a woodland copse and, as far as she could tell from a quick examination, she didn't appear to have damaged herself too badly. The trees had evidently cushioned her fall. Toeclaw closed her wings tightly around her body, shivering with cold and pain. This would serve as a safe enough hiding place for the remainder of the night.

  Then another sudden, agonising jolt of energy shot through her spine, a reminder of the accursed inhibitor, buried deep in the muscle tissue at the nape of her neck. It hadn't killed her, but it would have to be removed.

  Twisting awkwardly to reach past her wings, Toeclaw probed at her skin with c
lawed fingers, tracing the contours of the rough scar where the insidious device had been surgically implanted. She could feel an uneven lump, slightly to the left of her spine, and imagined its 40

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  wiry tendrils hooked into her central nervous system, like a web of steel barbs.

  Toeclaw gathered her last reserves of energy. She knew there was a risk of permanent damage, and a high likelihood that the device had been booby-trapped, but she would not be free until the offensive object had been disposed of. Digging a single claw into the peak of the scar, she made an incision, slicing slowly downwards, deep into her flesh. Gritting her fangs against the pain, she forced two fingers into the open wound until they located the metal and plastic object, closer to the surface of the skin than she'd expected. Perhaps it had been dislodged or damaged in her fall? Either way, she was filled with a new confidence that its removal would not be as life-threatening as she'd feared. Gripping the device's smooth sides as tightly as she could, she yanked, hard and, with a roar of triumph, tore the inhibitor from her body and threw it aside, as far as she could.

  Toeclaw blinked and glanced at the object lying in the snow a few metres away, with contempt. She was pleased to be free of it at last.

  This was not over. As soon as she had regained her strength, she would return to release her brothers and sisters from bondage, and then the feast would truly begin.

  Captain Darke glanced uneasily at the sky as the rough-hewn wooden coffin was loaded onto a cart, beginning its short journey to the Castle.

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  He'd taken his time examining the corpse, and had now satisfied himself that the man they'd captured could not have been responsible.

  The severity of the attack had been too voracious to have come from human hands. While glad that they finally had an eye witness who might provide the answers to many questions, the fact remained that there was still a killer at large.

  'Sir. Orders from the Sheriff.' A messenger had arrived, and he handed Darke a folded and sealed slip of parchment.

  'What was his mood?' he asked the patiently waiting soldier. It was a common talking point amongst the troops that the new Sheriff could be somewhat volatile and, despite his rank, Darke was still considered very much one of the men.

  'Quieter than usual, sir, if that's possible.'

  'Never a good sign,' muttered the Captain, tearing open the message.

  As he'd suspected, further investigation would have to wait until morning. He was to make his report on the night's events immediately, and he wasn't looking forward to it.

  Making his way to the Castle, Darke paid little attention to the additional fortifications and manpower installed by the Sheriff when he had taken up his post a few months earlier. Worcester held a strategic importance, and the ongoing political situation had worsened with news that Matilda and her supporters were now in England.

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  Even so, Darke couldn't help but think that the bolstered defences were overkill. The Sheriff struck him as a man governed by paranoia, and that was not a positive trait for someone with so much responsibility.

  Aides ushered Darke into the Sheriffs chamber, and he waited patiently as his superior busied himself behind an ornate desk.

  The Sheriff was a small man with a neatly clipped beard and shaven head. Intense, obsessive and a little bit precious. A true politician, thought Darke. Their relationship had never been anything other than uncomfortable.

  'Welcome, Captain. I hear you allowed the Huntsman to have his fun and games again this evening.' The Sheriff continued to read through documents as he said this, as if Darke's presence were an inconvenience.

  'We almost had him, sir, but he was disturbed by a citizen and fled before we could make an arrest.'

  'A citizen breaking my curfew.' Looking up, finally, the Sheriffs eyes were hard and unfriendly. 'I trust you had him suitably punished?' he said icily.

  Darke continued undeterred. 'He is the only witness to have seen the Huntsman and lived, my Lord. I thought it best to take him into custody.

  'Ah yes, thereby causing a riot in the streets as the people tried to lynch him. Tell me, Captain Darke, are you aware of the concept of subtlety?'

  The situation escalated, sir, yes. Word spread. I don't know how, but there was no way I could have predicted 43

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  that. The crowd was brought under control and dispersed, and we now have the witness held under supervision at his dwelling.'

  The Sheriff stood and walked over to a shuttered window, peering at the world outside through a tiny hole in a twisted knot in the wood. He remained there, in silent contemplation.

  'If he hadn't broken the curfew,' Darke continued, 'come morning we would be looking for yet another missing person, without any clue as to what happened.'

  Still no response.

  'Had I not been called here to report on events of which you seem quite clearly aware, then perhaps by now he would have given us some answers.'

  Darke had risen to the bait despite himself, and the Sheriff turned his cold gaze upon the Captain. His lips twitched into a brief, mirthless smile, as if raising Darke's hackles had pleased him.

  'Have you identified the body?' he asked.

  'No, sir. It was too badly disfigured.' Darke recovered his composure.

  'As yet we've not had any reports of missing citizens, so it's possible he may have been a visitor to the city.'

  'An outsider?' the Sheriff hissed.

  'It's possible, yes but

  'I want the patrols doubled, and lookouts posted beyond the city walls. Henceforth no one enters or leaves this city without my express permission, until further notice.'

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  'But my Lord...' Darke had seen firsthand the strength of feeling amongst the people. These new restrictions would only serve to foster further unrest.

  'For all we know, the Huntsman is an agent of our enemies, sent to undo our resolve and break our will,' continued the Sheriff. 'Bring me your prisoner. I would question him myself.'

  The Doctor sat back down on the chair he'd vacated a few minutes earlier, crossing his arms with a huff. A brief search of the room had turned up nothing more than the simple trappings of medieval life and some lint. Not so much as an extraterrestrial sausage to give him a clue as to his host's reasons for being on Earth.

  The room was basic and sparsely furnished, but comfortable enough, and the Doctor was glad of the cosy calm it afforded, after the previous hour's tension.

  He'd been pleasantly surprised when the girl had led them to these rented rooms, on the second floor of a well-appointed house in the north of the city, as he'd half-suspected she didn't have anywhere to take them at all.

  The soldiers who had accompanied them were now stationed in the street below, having made a cursory inspection of the property when they'd arrived, so for now the Doctor had a quiet moment alone to think.

  Behind the closed door of the other room, his new 'wife' busied herself in what was, presumably, her bedchamber.

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  'So, how was it for you?" asked the Doctor, loudly enough to get her attention. After a moment the door creaked open and Emily stuck her head out.

  'I'm sorry, how was what?' she asked, frowning.

  The big day. I mean, it's the biggest day of your life, isn't it, your wedding day. All those arrangements.' He toyed with an apple he'd helped himself to from a bowl on the table. 'All those in-laws meeting for the first time. That embarrassing uncle dancing just a bit too closely to the bridesmaid....' The Doctor took a big bite of his apple, and raised a questioning eyebrow. 'Shame I missed it.'

  The young woman looked sheepish and stepped into the room. 'It was the best I could think of. Sorry. They were going to hang you, you know.'

  'I know. Not most people's first
choice of activity for a honeymoon. So, thanks and all that, but who exactly are you?'

  She shrugged. 'Just a local girl. Nothing special about me.'

  Had he not already stumbled across two alien visitors that night, the Doctor might have believed her. As it was, her being there was too much of a coincidence.

  'No, no, no, no, no. You're about as local as I am, and I'm a long way from home. Otherwise you'd have been helping them with the rope.' The Doctor waited for a reply. Tine, I'll go first then. I'm the Doctor, pleased to meet you. Your turn.'

  'My name is Emily Parr,' she replied, indignantly, 'as 46

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  if you didn't know that already. I suppose my father sent you after me?

  Well you can tell him he can send as many bounty hunters as he likes, I'm not going back.'

  There was a hint of duplicity in her blue eyes, and the Doctor wasn't sure she was being entirely truthful.

  'Bounty...? Emily, I'm not a bounty hunter, and I've no idea who your dad is. I was just passing through and fancied a breath of fresh air, that's all,' he reassured her.

  'And you just happened to turn up here, about a billion light years from the nearest transit station?' Emily asked, sarcastically.

  'I come here quite a lot, actually. It's a nice planet.1 The Doctor felt obligated to defend the honour of Earth; it was like a second home to him. He realised with irritation that the girl had put him on the back foot.

  'Hold on, I was the one asking the questions.'

  'Well you can't expect me not to have a few of my own. It took me a long time to find a planet this far off the trade routes, where I could make a new life for myself, and then you turn up out of nowhere. What am I supposed to think?'

  The Doctor really wasn't prepared to argue the point. 'I'm sorry if you've got family troubles, really I am, but this isn't the safest planet to hide on right now. If you can, you should leave, and as soon as possible.'

  'Nice try, mister, but I'm not going anywhere. You'd have a trace on me the moment I broke orbit.' Emily crossed her arms, and gave the Doctor a defiant glare.