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Authors: Doctor Who

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BOOK: The King's Dragon
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Above them, as if the Herald's threat was already coming to pass, the night sky was alight. A great battle unfolded before the people cowering in the city below. Two giants — one ebony, one golden
-

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clashed like elements from the lowest point of the valley to the highest point amongst the hills. They blazed along the river, seeming almost to set it on fire with the force and fury of their feud. This was a hatred that had lost no intensity even though millennia had passed. The battle was visible for miles around. They saw it in Dant, and they saw it in Sheal, and they talked about it afterwards for centuries.

To Amy, the night seemed endless. Crouched beside the silent dragon, Hilthe cold and lifeless in her arms, she almost despaired of the battle ever ending. The spectacle became too much. She bent over the old woman, leaning in to kiss the top of her head. 'Please,' she whispered to her. 'Don't listen to the music. Stay with us. Stay with me.'

The world crashed into chaos all around her.

Then: 'Amy,' Rory whispered. 'Look! Look!' Amy looked. 'It's morning,' Rory said, and took her hand.

Pale dawn light crept into the valley of the Evesh. For a moment, the giants paused in their struggle, marking the change. And then Camba strode forwards and, with the golden sun rising at her back, descended upon her enemy like a cloud of vengeance, extinguishing the Herald's pale light for good. Now turning towards the dawn, Camba lifted her hands to greet the new day and sang her
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victory out across the valley.

Down in the plaza, Amy and Rory watched fearfully as the Herald shrank down to no more than their height and collapsed on the ground in a heap of long and broken limbs. Camba, shrinking more steadily, stood over her. She took off her helmet and placed it on the ground, and then communicated with her ship in a series of soft clicks and trills. Dark bands, like fetters, appeared around the Herald's thin wrists and ankles and the matter-transmission field took her.

Camba turned and came to kneel beside Hilthe.

Gently, she took the old woman's hand within her own long, still gauntleted hands. 'Mother,' she breathed. 'We have her now. She's gone for good.

We won.'

As if called back by Camba's words, Hilthe stirred. Her eyelids fluttered open. 'Camba!' she said. 'And the sun too! A long night - and such a strange one!' She lifted Camba's gloved hand and pressed her lips against it. 'My compliments to your mistress - and my grateful thanks to you.'

Camba bowed her head and withdrew. Hilthe closed her eyes again, but Amy could feel warmth returning to her body. She no longer feared for the old woman's life.

Camba communicated once again with her ship.

The metal quivered and faded from view. At last,
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only the dragon remained, its one red eye amused and watchful, its mouth still curved in its secret smile. Then it too trembled and disappeared. A loud, ragged, and undaunted cheer rose up from the plaza.

Hilthe opened her eyes. 'Has it gone?' she said.

'All gone, Mother,' said the Doctor. 'For good.'

'For the best,' Hilthe agreed. 'It was very gaudy.

Beautiful, in a certain light. But gaudy.' She closed her eyes again. A party came down from the hall to carry her home.

'I brought you a present,' Amy said to Rory, after Hilthe was safely on her way. 'You know.

From the dragon-ship.' She handed over the pen that she had taken from the meeting room. It had a little holographic logo on it. Rory twisted it around in his fingers as if it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

'For me?'

'With love.'

He reached over to kiss her on the cheek. 'Thank you.'

Under the fresh light of the new day, the old city of Geath was at last revealed in all its intricate and diverse design. The buildings were painted in various shades — some honey yellow, some dusty pink, some pale green — and the roofs were covered
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in terracotta tiles. Complex mosaics in bright stone decorated the street shrines and the fountains, and in the temples candles burned undaunted before bold and ancient frescoes venerating the departed. Floral baskets hung from doorways and archways and, in the long avenues, the trees shifted in the breeze, unburdened of any ornamentation. The dome of the council hall turned out to be made of pale blue glass, the colour of a duck's egg, which tinted the light in the hall and softly washed its white walls and soothed the tempers of those gathered to debate.

But the crack across the dome was still there, and the knights remained dead.

The three dead knights - the sum total of the casualties of the only war to come to the valley in over twelve thousand years - were laid to rest with great solemnity in the old burial ground on the western edge of the city. Two of the town's master craftsmen had already begun work on the mosaic that would commemorate them: a redecoration of the whole southern face of the council building around the main doors. Anyone coming to the hall would see it and remember the dead.

The funeral procession passed slowly through the streets. Beol and Hilthe walked together behind the three biers and bystanders showed respect in the traditional way, throwing wild flowers on the stone streets in front of the cortege.

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As the bodies went into the ground, Amy saw two dark figures standing some distance away, in the shade of an elderly tree. She tapped the Doctor on the arm. 'Look over there,' she whispered.

Anwa and Camba had come to pay their respects. Seeing they were noticed, Camba lifted her hand and placed it against her chest, in salute.

Anwa nodded to the Doctor, who nodded back.

When the ceremony was finished, the Doctor and Amy went to speak to them. Anwa passed the Doctor a little handheld device. 'Interim report,'

she said. 'The Herald is in transit to the home world. Her lifeboat has been traced and a division sent to dismantle it. We'll withdraw from local space when that task is complete.' She pointed a long finger to the screen. 'If I could direct you to the bottom of the page, Doctor,' she said. 'You'll see that Protocol Nine Six One has been suspended

"pending review". All procedures surrounding first contact are now under review. In fact, I have a conference call on the subject starting in two-tenths.'

'Good.' The Doctor pocketed the report. 'Get it right this time.'

Anwa nodded. Camba saluted them both, and then the matter-transmission field enveloped them, and they were gone.

'Doctor,' Amy said, as they walked back to the
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main plaza, 'you still feel sorry for the Herald, don't you?'

The Doctor nodded slowly.

'After all she did. Still you tried to give her a chance for a new life and still she tried to kill you.'

Amy shook her head. 'I don't understand you sometimes.'

'Then try to understand her, Amy,' the Doctor said softly. 'Try to glimpse inside her world. The empire she serves comes crashing down. She waits for orders, but her masters are silent. No more commands. No more direction. She doesn't know what to do next. She escapes the last battle, only to wander for centuries, aimlessly, without purpose, alone, waiting for an order that can never come.

When she detected some Enamour, it must have been a lifeline. Her world returning at last. But it never could. It's been dead for centuries.'

He stopped walking. He put his hands in his pockets and contemplated the summer day: the green grass, the blue sky, the birdsong, the warm sun, the perpetual present.

'We're done here,' he said. 'Time to go.'

He wasn't quite done. In the main plaza, an envoy from Dant stood before the steps to the council chamber. A neatly dressed and rather jolly man, he stared around quite openly, looking for some
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sign that might explain the tremendous display in the sky the night before. When he saw Hilthe, he hurried forwards and gave her a smart bow.

'From the citizens of Dant, to our brothers and sisters in Geath, greetings!' he said. 'Mother, a pleasure to see you again!'

Hilthe shook her head. 'I am not the leader of the council,' she said.

'Then to whom should I address myself?' the envoy said. 'Who is the leader now?'

A good question, one to which the citizens of Geath would apply themselves with vigour and enthusiasm over the coming days, as the election approached and the streets and squares filled once again with conversation and debate. For the moment, however, a temporary solution was required so that the visitor might be welcomed properly. Reaching a consensus via some means which Amy could not quite follow, the crowd pulled back and pushed Beol forward. The young man stood blinking at the envoy and then collected himself. 'Well. A most hearty welcome to you. I am... um...'

'Temporarily empowered,' whispered the Doctor in his ear.

'Yes, temporarily empowered to, ah...'

'Speak on behalf of the people of Geath,' the Doctor suggested.

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'Speak on behalf of the people of Geath, and,' a light went on behind Beol's eyes and he beckoned to Hilthe to join him, 'my esteemed colleague and I request the pleasure of your company in our hall.'

Beol took Hilthe's arm and, together, they led their guest up the steps into the council building.

'That's more like it!' the Doctor said, beaming at them like he was a match-maker and they were the couple going on the brochure. 'Next on the agenda —electoral reform.'

The travellers left the city in the company of the Teller, travelling in the old cart which had brought him, his brother, and the dragon into Geath all those months earlier.

'Why aren't you staying?' Amy asked the Teller.

'Now that your brother is... well, whatever he is now?'

'I think I've outstayed my welcome in Geath,'

the Teller said. 'Besides, who there is going to listen to a tale about a king and a dragon?'

They travelled along the wide road that led out of Geath and then, more bumpily, along a muddy track.

Rory, sitting in the back of the cart, caught a glimpse of metal beneath the canvas cover thrown over the Teller's possessions. His heart nearly stopped.

Surely the Teller hadn't been foolish enough to keep a scrap of Enamour? Would he

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even realise if he had? Glancing round to make sure that nobody was watching, Rory twitched the canvas aside.

Underneath lay the little satellite dish, black and silver and mercifully Enamour-free. Rory put the canvas back and said nothing. No harm done and, anyway, the Teller had earned it.

'Here we are!' called the Doctor from up front.

The cart trundled to a halt. They all clambered down and went off into the trees. Soon they saw the TARDIS, solid and safe, waiting patiently for them in the forest. The Teller stared at it and the Doctor preened.

'Oh, you just love this bit, don't you?' said Amy.

To the Teller, she said, 'What are you going to do now?'

The Teller shook himself. 'I don't know. Keep travelling, I suppose, keep telling stories...'

'You should make some up about a man who travels in time and space—'

'Doctor,' Amy said in a warning voice, 'it's not always about you.'

The Doctor looked at her as if he literally did not understand the words coming from her mouth.

'How?' said the Teller.
'How
do you all fit in there?'

'Oh, you know,' said the Doctor, opening the TARDIS door and waving his hand about vaguely.

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'Magic. Sort of. In all the ways that count.'

Inside the TARDIS, it was as peaceable and timeless as ever. On the monitor, Amy and Rory watched the Teller walk all the way round the blue box. He stopped in front of the doors and shook his head.

Then he burst out laughing.

Amy laughed too. 'I wonder what story he'll make out of all this?' she said. 'I wonder what it will come out like?'

'Farce, probably,' said Rory drily.

'Hey!' Amy punched him gently on the arm. 'I thought there were scary bits.'

'Of course, it's all a question of emphasis,' the Doctor put in quietly. 'If you think about it, a dragon can mean anything — facing your fears, maybe, or not being taken in by appearances...' He looked down at the TARDIS console and gave a secret sombre smile. 'It can even be a reminder that although it's within your power to force people to do what's best for them, you shouldn't.' His finger hovered over a button. 'Least, not often.' He hit the control, and the TARDIS dematerialised. Their last sight was of the Teller's expression: sheer joy at hearing the best sound in the universe.

The Doctor turned to his friends. 'Pockets,' he said briskly.

'Pockets?' said Rory.

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'I
bet we all picked up a souvenir or two.'

One by one they checked. The Doctor placed the ring that had summoned the Herald onto the TARDIS console. Rory surrendered the circular tile that Hilthe had given him. Amy took out the spoon she had lifted from the gatekeeper's house. She held it for a moment, warm and tingling in the palm of her hand, and then shuddered and relinquished it.

'What are we going to do with the stuff, Doctor?'

she said. 'Are we going to destroy it?'

The Doctor shook his head. 'You can't destroy knowledge,' he said softly. 'You can't unmake it; you can't un-know it. You can only use it - and do your best not to let it use you.' He dug deep into his pocket again. He pulled out a fork and threw it on top of the little pile of treasure. Then he turned away and set to at the controls, pulling and pushing indeterminate levers and buttons. A silver haze surrounded the objects and they disappeared from sight.

'Goodbye Enamour,' said Rory, his tone a combination of relief and regret.

Amy took hold of his hand. The TARDIS moved on.

BOOK: The King's Dragon
12.85Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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