Doctor Who_ Planet Of Fire Part 3

continued the old man. 'It can be a most rewarding experience, and a blessed relief for those who are consumed in the flames. Doubters are such unhappy people.'

'Is it not sometimes good to doubt?' asked Malkon gravely.

Timanov was near despair. How could Logar have wished on them this milksop for a leader? How could this soft-hearted youth, with his scruples and his cringing sensitivity, be the child who had emerged from the Sacred Fire? He would need to be stronger with the boy. 'Come, Malkon.' He pointed towards the Hall of Fire. 'It is time for you to speak to the people.'

Malkon stared unhappily at the faded mosaic on the floor. 'Why me?' he pleaded, as he had pleaded a hundred times and more with his elderly tutor.

'It is the will of Logar, Lord of the Fire Mountain!' the old man cried. He drew back a corner of the boy's white robe and with his gnarled hand grabbed hold of Malkon's slender arm. The boy could not bear to look at the fateful birth mark, the two overlapping triangles branded into his flesh.

'You carry his sign,' the old man reminded him, 'You, Malkon, and you alone.'

Roskal and Amyand were very frightened. The higher the two men climbed the hotter it grew and the more densely swirled the clouds of choking, sulphurous smoke. The ground trembled, there was an ominous rumbling and the two climbers looked fearfully towards the summit. For a moment they hesitated, appalled by the power that might, at any moment, be released, and in awe of their own audacity; for no man before had dared climb the Mountain of Fire.

'I can't breathe,' gasped Roskal. 'My feet are burning.'

Amyand was as terrified as his younger companion, but hid his fear. 'Perhaps Logar will be waiting with a cool drink and new shoes,' he joked nervously.

Loath to confront what lay above of them in the crown of black, fissile rock, both men rested for a while. The valley stretched beneath themmile upon parched, grey mile of sterile pumice, calcinated rock and arid clinker.

But it was not an entirely sombre view. In myriad strips of fertile soil, crops awaited harvesting and flowers of every colour bloomed. Across the valley lay the city, with its fine houses, paved streets and grand public buildings, which, though crumbling, had survived the destruction of every other settlement. Yet no one knew who had designed such munificence, least of all Amyand and Roskal, as they clung to the shaking slopes of the Fire Mountain.

'We must go on,' said Amyand.

Roskal nodded grimly. If they gave up now. nothing would stop the burnings and the human sacrifices to the Lord of Fire.

The last few yards to the summit were the worst.

Smoking rock seared their feet and blistered their hands as they fought to haul themselves up, up... And on to the very rim of the smoking crater. They stood exhausted, gasping for breath. Before them was a vast saucer of smouldering ash. 'There's nothing there!' cried Roskal triumphantly.

'There's nothing there!' repeated his companion, and began to laugh with pure relief.

The Hall of Fire was one of the finest buildings in Sarn, its fluted columns, vaulted ceilings and marble pavements surviving the many earthquakes miraculously intact. Now it was filled with citizens, perturbed by the trembling earth, the darkness and the rumours of the all-consuming flames. Many of them were angry too, at the edict forbidding them to harvest their crops, and the old protocol that would not allow them to hide and protect themselves from the danger that was to come.

Sorasta looked out through the pillared transept, across the valley to the Fire Mountain. By now Amyand and Roskal should be on their way back to the Hall. Their testimony would bring to an end years of barbarity and superst.i.tion. The young woman spoke urgently to a group of men from her own street. 'Take as much food and water as you can store. We may be under ground for many days.'

'Unbelievers!' hissed an old greybeard.

'We must go to the caves,' shouted Sorasta defiantly.

The entry of the six Elders onto a raised platform at the end of the Hall silenced the arguments that raged in every corner of the a.s.sembly. Behind the six old men came Timanov himself, leading the timid, pale boy.

Malkon felt his mouth go dry as he stared at the sea of faces and tried to remember the lines the old man had rehea.r.s.ed him. 'Citizens of Sarn,' he stammered. 'You have all seen the smoke from the Fire Mountain and the black rain, and have felt the quaking ground...' He tried to stop his own hands and feet from shaking, 'These signs tell us it is the Time of Fire.' He glanced over his shoulder at Timanov who gave him a curt nod. 'Logar, the Lord of Fire, is testing our faith,' continued the reluctant Chosen One.

'Testing our common sense!' heckled one of the young men from below. There was a murmur of sympathy from throughout the Hall.

Malkon wished he had words of his own to answer the Unbelievers, but he only knew what the old man had told him. 'Soon Logar will send a sea of fire from the heart of the mountain,' he declaimed mechanically.

'Then we must evacuate the city,' shouted another Unbeliever to a chorus of agreement.

'We must follow the tradition of our ancestors. We must show no fear,' persisted the boy. But the crowd was growing restless and the citizens were beginning to talk amongst themselves. 'We must not abandon our homes.'

Malkon tried to go on, but angry voices opposed him everywhere. 'We must do... nothing nothing!' cried the boy, unable to believe his own words.

'What about our crops!' shouted one of the men who had been conspiring with Sorasta.

'Our crops! Our crops!' chorused the indignant Sarns.

Seeing that the tongue-tied Malkon had no answer, Timanov stepped forward and raised his hand. 'Leave them unharvested!' he cried. 'The fields must burn as an oblation to Logar and a measure of our faith.'

'We need bread not faith!' shouted one of the women contemptuously.

'You shall have both,' replied their Chief Elder.

The crowd grew silent, impressed by the weight of Timanov's authority.

'Once in every generation our faith is put to the test. If we submit to Logar and are not found wanting. we survive and prosper. Then, as our reward, the Outsider will come.'

But there was still much doubt. For those who had grown up in prosperous times, it had been easy to pay lip service to the idea of being saved from the fire by an agency beyond Sarn. Now that they could see the smoke and darkness it was more difficult to accept. Perhaps the Unbelievers were right: that no one would guard them from the danger but themselves.

Timanov smiled. 'The Outsider will protect us. He will bring an abundance of good things. There will be food and many rich gifts...'

'No!'

The citizens turned from Timanov to the steps leading up to the columned hall from the street. Amyand and Roskal stood in the entrance. They were breathless and covered with black pumice dust. They were triumphant. 'It is a lie!' cried Amyand. 'There is no Logar!'

'Heretic! Unbeliever!' howled Timanov.

'We have climbed the mountain,' boasted the young man.

The crowd gasped and the Elders grew pale.

'It is death to trespa.s.s on the Mountain of Fire,'

whispered Timanov.

'We have climbed and we live!' declared Amyand. 'For generations our people have been the slaves of fear. No more.'

Several of the crowd cheered. Amyand pushed his way through the excited citizens until he stood at the base of the stone dias. He stared straight at the Chief Elder. 'We have seen with our own eyes.' He turned again to the people. 'There is no Logar!' he cried.

There was more applause. The Elders were losing control.

'If we are to survive on Sarn,' continued the young Unbeliever, 'we must learn to believe in ourselves and conquer the power of the Fire Mountain.'

Timanov strode angrily to the edge of the platform.

'Heretic!' he thundered at Amyand. 'You will burn for this!' But none of the guards moved. There was far too much sympathy for the Unbelievers.

'We will all burn unless we go to the shelters,' shouted Roskal from the centre of the a.s.sembly, to be answered by a roar of agreement.

'Citizens!' cried out Timanov, again. 'You cannot escape Logar's anger. He will pour his fire into your hiding places...'

Amyand jumped up to the dais, pus.h.i.+ng the Chief Elder roughly aside. 'The old order is finished,' he jeered. 'Now we will live by reason and common sense.'

The Elders looked nervously from one to another, powerless to enforce their authority. Timanov looked around for the boy, but Malkon had reheated to the far end of the platform. It seemed they were lost. For their pride and disobedience, the city would be consumed in the flames that had destroyed all the other habitations. He tinned to the Mountain, raised both arms in supplication and cried in a great voice. 'Oh, Logar! Send us a sign!'

There was silence throughout the Hall of Fire which was broken by a sudden roar. Flames began to burn behind Timanov's head. The Elders turned to the cave in the rock wall behind the raised platform. guarded by a rough iron grille. The grotto was filled with a raging fire. As the Elders staggered back from the heat, the ground began to shake, stones clattered hunt the walls and the distant mountain thundered. The mood of the crowd was changed irr an instant.

Timanov looked into the fire and bowed his head.

'Logar. I thank you,' he whispered in profound grat.i.tude.

Once more the Chief Elder addressed the people. 'Citizens, I called to Logar and the Fire Lord has answered.'

The mountain roared again and the whole city trembled. Many of the citizens were on their knees.

Timanov raised an accusing finger. 'To the burning with all Unbelievers!'

This time the guards did not hesitate. Amyand jumped from the platform, but the perfidious crowd blocked his escape. Together with Roskal and Sorasta he was dragged up the steps of the platform. One of the Elders flung open the gate of the cave. The three petrified Unbelievers recoiled from the heat of the flames that had turned the cavity into a furnace.

'Stop!' Amyand, struggling with the guards, made one last appeal. 'Only a Chosen One can order a burning.'

All eyes turned on Malkon.

'Well, Malkon?' pleaded Amyand.

Malkon stared at Amyand, uncertain and afraid. 'Coyne.

boy,' said Timanov sternly. 'Be strong. For the good of the people.'

'I don't know,' stammered the miserable child.

'Burn them! Burn them!' shouted the crowd.

'I cannot order the deaths of three innocent people,'

protested Malkon.

'You call those heretics innocent!' spluttered Timanov.

'The Fire Lord requires sacrifice,' chanted the Elders in unison.

'Burn them! Burn them! Burn them!' roared the crowd.

Malkon was on the verge of tears. 'Remember what I taught you.' Timanov whispered in his ear. 'Resolution is everything. The laws of our people must be seen to be obeyed.'

The boy looked at the citizens, all now excited at the prospect of a burning; then back to the three frightened victims; and beyond them to the flickering fire. If only the judgement could be spared hint...'

'Malkon!' A man came running into the Hall. 'He is here!'

The crowd turned to the newcomer.

'With the sound of the great wind and a s.h.i.+ning light,'

cried the excited messenger. 'The Outsider has come!'

The TARDIS had materialised in a dark and dangerous land.

'A lot of volcanic activity,' observed the Doctor as he read off the inboard seismic scanner.

'Am I dreaming?' said Peri. 'Or will someone explain what sort of crazy s.h.i.+p this is?'

'How are you feeling, honey?' said the man in the dark suit who everyone believed to be Professor Foster.

'Sick!' answered the girl, unaware that she was conversing with a robot. 'Can I go back to the hotel?'

'Haven't you heard a word the Doctor said?' continued Kamelion in the guise of the American archaeologist.

'We're not on the island.'

'Then where are we?'

'I'm not sure,' said the Doctor, still examining the instruments on the console. 'But I'll get you back to Earth just as soon as I can.'

'Earth?!' screeched Peri, convinced that this Doctor needed urgent treatment himself, and wondering why Howard could take such raving lunacy so calmly.

'You're not going out?' said Turlough as the Doctor opened the doors.

'Why not?' said the Doctor, putting on his coat. 'The TARDIS decided to bring us here. I want to know why.'

The police box had landed in the centre of a large ruin.

Only one wall remained standing, but a line of tapered columns marked the perimeter of what must once have been a very impressive edifice. Beyond the derelict building lay a desert of solidified lava.