Read Online Doctor Who: The Masque of the Mandragora by Philip Hinchcliffe - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Philip Hinchcliffe
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before and yet there was something familiar about him. She wondered whether it might be the infamous Hieronymous the Doctor had mentioned, the old fraud himself. Now she could glimpse the rest of the room it certainly resembled a den of astromancy and magic.
The figure knelt beside her and gently released the gag from her mouth. Then he untied the ropes around her wrists. Sarah stretched her neck and arms with grateful relief. She was free to move but weak enough to fall.
The stranger had crossed to a table and now returned holding a glass full of a brightly coloured liquid. He placed it to her lips.
‘Do not resist, my child.’ His voice was silky, soothing and not unfamiliar.
Sarah felt the fumes from the potion rising in her nostrils, pungent like a heady spice. It made her cough violently and struggle for breath.
‘The aroma is sweet,’ whispered the leering stranger. Holding her head he began to force the mixture down her throat. His grip was gentle but insistent. Weakened by her ordeal Sarah could not prevent herself from swallowing one or two drops.
Immediately a dizzy intoxicating sensation spread through her body, her head grew thick and muzzy. The room grew misty and swayed around her.
Then her attention was caught by something bright and shiny a few inches from her face, a crystal pendant. It began to swing slowly and rhythmically before her eyes. Somewhere in the distance she could hear the voice.
‘Now child—whom do you serve?’
It sounded warm and friendly as if Sarah had known it all her life. She felt a surge of trust and affection towards its soft mellifluous tones.
‘I serve you,’ she heard herself say.
‘And the Doctor?’
Sarah paused. A preposterous thought had formed in her head; something she had known all along, something which was blindingly obvious. What a fool she had been not to see it before. His strange manner, his alien powers, his magical possessions.
‘The Doctor is a sorcerer.’
‘And?...’
The dark face smiled from behind the spinning crystal.
‘The Doctor is evil.’
‘And?’
Sarah struggled for inspiration. This friendly smiling voice was good. The Doctor was its enemy. Therefore the Doctor was evil.
‘And must be destroyed.’
Sarah gasped as she said the words. The crystal spun faster and faster, a mesmerising ball of light burning its image into Sarah’s brain, blotting out all other sensations except that seductive insinuating voice.
‘All this you will forget. All but your purpose.’
Sarah nodded. The crystal suddenly disappeared and instead she felt her hand caressed by a cold metal object, long and pointed.
‘When you stand close, and the Doctor suspects nothing, you will strike him down.’ commanded the voice. ‘One scratch will be sufficient.’
Through blurred vision Sarah looked at her hand. In it lay a gleaming steel bodkin about four inches long with an ornamental head.
‘The hand of a friend is a subtle but certain weapon.’ The stranger took the bodkin and pinned it gently onto the front of Sarah’s dress like a brooch.
‘Now you must be returned to the Doctor’s side. How glad he will be to see his young companion. And when I command you must kill him.’
He led Sarah to a concealed flight of steps behind a curtain. Then, gazing deeply into her eyes one more time, he commanded her to go. Hypnotised and spell-bound, Sarah nodded meekly and descended the staircase. Her mission, to kill the Doctor!
8
Torture!
‘Well?’
The challenge, delivered with rasping menace, hung in the air like an executioner’s blade above Rossini’s head.
The captain stared miserably at the patterned floor of Federico’s chamber. ‘Nothing, sire.’ He blurted the words out fearfully.
Federico’s eyes narrowed and his face swelled with
The figure knelt beside her and gently released the gag from her mouth. Then he untied the ropes around her wrists. Sarah stretched her neck and arms with grateful relief. She was free to move but weak enough to fall.
The stranger had crossed to a table and now returned holding a glass full of a brightly coloured liquid. He placed it to her lips.
‘Do not resist, my child.’ His voice was silky, soothing and not unfamiliar.
Sarah felt the fumes from the potion rising in her nostrils, pungent like a heady spice. It made her cough violently and struggle for breath.
‘The aroma is sweet,’ whispered the leering stranger. Holding her head he began to force the mixture down her throat. His grip was gentle but insistent. Weakened by her ordeal Sarah could not prevent herself from swallowing one or two drops.
Immediately a dizzy intoxicating sensation spread through her body, her head grew thick and muzzy. The room grew misty and swayed around her.
Then her attention was caught by something bright and shiny a few inches from her face, a crystal pendant. It began to swing slowly and rhythmically before her eyes. Somewhere in the distance she could hear the voice.
‘Now child—whom do you serve?’
It sounded warm and friendly as if Sarah had known it all her life. She felt a surge of trust and affection towards its soft mellifluous tones.
‘I serve you,’ she heard herself say.
‘And the Doctor?’
Sarah paused. A preposterous thought had formed in her head; something she had known all along, something which was blindingly obvious. What a fool she had been not to see it before. His strange manner, his alien powers, his magical possessions.
‘The Doctor is a sorcerer.’
‘And?...’
The dark face smiled from behind the spinning crystal.
‘The Doctor is evil.’
‘And?’
Sarah struggled for inspiration. This friendly smiling voice was good. The Doctor was its enemy. Therefore the Doctor was evil.
‘And must be destroyed.’
Sarah gasped as she said the words. The crystal spun faster and faster, a mesmerising ball of light burning its image into Sarah’s brain, blotting out all other sensations except that seductive insinuating voice.
‘All this you will forget. All but your purpose.’
Sarah nodded. The crystal suddenly disappeared and instead she felt her hand caressed by a cold metal object, long and pointed.
‘When you stand close, and the Doctor suspects nothing, you will strike him down.’ commanded the voice. ‘One scratch will be sufficient.’
Through blurred vision Sarah looked at her hand. In it lay a gleaming steel bodkin about four inches long with an ornamental head.
‘The hand of a friend is a subtle but certain weapon.’ The stranger took the bodkin and pinned it gently onto the front of Sarah’s dress like a brooch.
‘Now you must be returned to the Doctor’s side. How glad he will be to see his young companion. And when I command you must kill him.’
He led Sarah to a concealed flight of steps behind a curtain. Then, gazing deeply into her eyes one more time, he commanded her to go. Hypnotised and spell-bound, Sarah nodded meekly and descended the staircase. Her mission, to kill the Doctor!
8
Torture!
‘Well?’
The challenge, delivered with rasping menace, hung in the air like an executioner’s blade above Rossini’s head.
The captain stared miserably at the patterned floor of Federico’s chamber. ‘Nothing, sire.’ He blurted the words out fearfully.
Federico’s eyes narrowed and his face swelled with
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