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Doctor Who: Lungbarrow - Chapter Four

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All Fall Down

Cousin Arkhew bit his lip and clambered over the edge of the parapet. Digit by digit, damp fingers grey with dust, he slid along the outside of the cloistered gallery towards the dead clock.

The ancient woodwork creaked its protest. Somewhere below him, the floor of the Great Hall was lost in the gloom. At this hour, the only light came from two tallow lamps that glimmered perpetually by the Loom plinth at the Hall's far end.

A sudden noise startled the little man - a scraping of metal on stone. He froze where he clung, watching another dim light moving along the gallery on the opposite side of the cavernous room. But it was only a lone candelabrum slowly wandering the corridors.

The light disappeared. Over many, many long years, Arkhew's eyes had accustomed themselves to the gloom. He had to reach the clock. He had to know if the latest rumours were true. If he found the missing will, then he would be a saviour. He would finish the long dark disgrace once and for all. No one would ever laugh at him again. There weren't many Cousins left to laugh anyway, but he had to make the point. He flexed his fingers, which were starting to go numb, and began to edge forward again.

The clock was just out of reach - an elaborate array of painted discs and wire circles, both astronomical and astrological, that had once turned and spun in and out of each other's sphere. Long dead, it stared from the balustrade like a many-layered eyeball.

A sudden draught of air lifted tendrils of dust web from the edge of the balustrade. Arkhew dodged and fumbled as they waved hungrily towards him. Dead man's fingers reaching to snatch you back into the past. Cousin Maljamin had walked straight into a web once and lain unconscious for eight candledays. When he finally woke up, he thought he had been taking tea with old Cousin Farg, who had been dead for over two hundred years.

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The tendrils gradually settled again. Arkhew clung to the edge with his fingertips.

There was another light. It was down below, moving along the edge of the Hall. A lantern carried by a stiff figure whose angular, varnished features threw back its baleful glow.

The House Drudge stopped directly below Arkhew. He dared not breathe; tried not to think; prayed to the God of Pain that his hearts would stop pounding so loudly. His fingers were losing their grip.

Cousin Owis tripped and fell, landing heavily on the wooden floor in a heap of expletives. He fumbled around in the dark until he found the object he had collided with. As he had hoped, it was a shrew-trap and something was scrabbling inside.

'Got you, you little. . . No, don't squeal. Don't squeal.' He reached inside and crushed the tiny creature in his podgy hands.

'Always after something to eat, aren't you?' said a voice.

Owis gulped and looked round for its owner.

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A lamp lit itself, illuminating the tall figure who carried it. He was peering down at Owis from the top of a tall table. He wore a faded maroon-coloured tunic and looked younger than he appeared - a typical Gallifreyan conundrum. His long, curling, brown hair was parted at the centre to frame his pale, aquiline features.

'Glospin, put out the lamp,' said Owis panicking. 'You'll have the Drudges down on us.' He tried to stuff the body of the little animal into his pocket for later.

Glospin smiled. 'Have you been in the kitchens again?'

'No,' protested Owis. 'I was just out for a walk.'

'And how's Cousin Innocet? Still nannying you?' he asked. Owis could feel the heat from the lamp.

'She's busy with her book, as usual. There's nothing going on.'

Glospin set aside the lamp, lowered himself over the side of the table and dropped to the floor. He grabbed his Cousin's arm, twisted it hard behind his back. Then he leant his head on Owis's shoulder and whispered, 'Remember the skinless skulls? The ones that live under the House? They want to know about you, Owis.'

Owis squealed. 'Don't hurt me! Please, please, I'll do anything!'

'How is it you're so fat, when the rest of us are thin as peat-roots?'

Owis spluttered as the grip tightened. 'Don't know. Don't know!'

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'The skinless skulls say the tallow supply's getting low. That's why the lamps keep going out.'

'Please, let me go. Please!'

'I won't tell the skulls as long as you do as you're told.'

'Yes. Yes, I promise.'

'Don't forget. And don't talk.' Glospin gave Owis a push which landed him back on the floor. 'Now, hand over what you found in the kitchen.'

Owis reluctantly pulled a parcel out of his jacket and handed it over. He watched Glospin sift through the contents of dried fungi. His Cousin scooped up a handful and passed it back.

'Here. To go with your shrew. Now scuttle back to your room before the Drudges catch you.'

Owis scurried away intent on reaching safety, but as he turned into the next corridor, he heard a scuffle behind him. He glanced back and saw, in the pool of light from the lamp, Glospin pinned to a tree-trunk arch by the tall, black shape of one of the Drudges.

'It wasn't me,' he choked at the implacable maid. 'It was Owis. He stole this stuff. I caught him! You can catch up with him if you hurry.'

The Drudge lifted Glospin off the floor and carried him, struggling, away for punishment.

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Owis felt a shudder run through the House. Even the air seemed angry. He clutched at his takings and hurried for the sanctuary of Cousin Innocet's rooms.

Arkhew strained his neck to watch the twinkling light disappear into one of the Hall's side passages. His blood was racing fit to burst. He had thought the Drudge would never move from below him. He knew it was listening. His fingers were about to crack under their tight grip on the parapet, when the servant moved rapidly away as if summoned on some urgent task.

Arkhew took moments to get his breath back. Thoughts raced along with his blood. Suppose this was another trick. Another bet between the others to see how foolish he was.

Suppose it wasn't. Suppose the will was hidden in the clock. They would all laugh if he didn't find it.

He was sure there had once been a time when he could think things out clearly; to remember things without starting to weep or wanting to hide away forever.

That was before it all went dark, of course.

Don't think. Don't remember. You crooked fingers on the bet. Just get on with the job in hand.

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He edged along the few last digits towards the clock. Finally, he grabbed at the tarnished metal wires that circled the device, presenting the orbits of the local planets. He ducked under them, finding a new purchase for his weight on the painted lattice spheres. One inside another, they showed the Mansions of the Stars and Houses of the Gods - red/black for Death, white for Pain and some indeterminate shifting colour for Time. When the clock had died, the spheres had settled their open segments together, exposing the heart of the clock face like a shattered eye.

Arkhew leant over the top of the opening as far as he dared. It was dark inside the spheres. He reached in, but could feel no more than he could see.

He slowly lowered himself over the clock face and into the dark eye.

The Ancient of Flames rose into the air from its place on the table. It hovered and then settled gently on the pinnacle formed by the Three of Souls, the Six of Clouds and the Last of Deeps.

Cousin Innocet closed her eyes. Building a mansion of cards by levitation was a very draining exercise. Her skills at cartomancy were out of practice and keeping the circular cards in place required a tremendous effort of willpower. Even so, the conelike structure was seven storeys high already. Only a few cards to go, but these were always the most precarious. One slip would bring the whole house tumbling down and there would be no future to read.

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She perched on the high stool at the table and felt the weight of her hair on her shoulders. It grew down in a single plait so long that she had to wind it round like a shell on her back. The hair was a journey in time. It grew white on her head, but as it travelled back, it grew grey and finally, at the furthest reaches, some six hundred years into its past, it was red-gold like the first flowers on the mountain after the winter snow.

It would never be cut. Not until she stood at her window and looked out on the sunlit orchards again.

She sat on the stool, for it was no longer comfortable or possible for her to sit in a high-backed chair, so great was the weight of her burden. Her room was furnished with a few items that she had salvaged after the dark began. A meagre and small selection of treasured books - the sort that did not need a powered screen; a bust of the scribe Quartinian; a compendium of games and a faded display of dried blooms in a glass cabinet. The big furniture was worn, but still attentive. It was dominated by a heavy dressing table, over whose expansive mirrors Innocet had draped a heavy shawl.

A tiny, aged voice nearly broke her concentration. 'When's he coming? He said he'd be here.'

'Who?' intoned Innocet, willing the next card into the air.

Cousin Jobiska sat huddled in the corner of a gigantic armchair. She was so old and tiny that her head nodded when she spoke. 'What's-his-name.'

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'Owis?' suggested Innocet wearily. Jobiska had come to visit her two candledays ago and had dropped no hint of leaving yet.

'No, that wasn't it. He was a Cousin of mine, dear.'

Innocet lowered the Duke of Dominoes again. 'We're all your Cousins here.'

'It was Arkhew,' the old lady declared. 'He promised me a game of Sepulchasm.' She fell silent, so Innocet took the opportunity to levitate the Duke of Dominoes into position on the card mansion. As she balanced the disc-card on its edge, she heard a sob from Jobiska's chair.

The old lady's face had crumpled up like a wizened nut. 'Take me home, dear,' she pleaded. 'I want to go home.'

Innocet did not dare take her concentration from the hovering card. 'It's a long way back to your room,' she said. 'You stay here and I'll take you home once candledark is over.'

Jobiska shook her teary head. 'No, no. I don't mean that home. I mean Home home.'

To Innocet's relief, the door opened and Cousin Owis appeared. If he was polite, she knew that he had been up to no good, but there was no point in arguing now.

He rested his chin on the tall table and eyed the card mansion. 'I thought you'd given up doing those things,' he said. 'They always fall down.'

'The House is disturbed tonight,' replied Innocet.

Owis giggled. 'Is that more disturbed than usual?'

'Arkhew? Is that you?' called Jobiska from her chair.

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Owis turned with a grin. 'Hello, granny,' he said condescendingly. 'I'm Owis, remember?'

'You don't have to shout,' retaliated the old woman. 'I'm four thousand, three hundred and thirty-two, you know. Fifth regeneration.'

'Owis,' insisted Innocet, 'employ yourself purposefully and give her a game of Sepulchasm.'

Jobiska chortled with delight as a square pedestal trundled itself across the room. On it sat the model of a hilly landscape. A winding path travelled between several miniature houses. Owis produced a die and some coloured tokens, three for each player.

Ignoring their excited shouts, Innocet began to raise the final cards on the mansion. She set the Two of Deeps and the Twelve of Owls in place and was willing the final card, the Hand of Souls, into the air when there was uproar from the game.

'He's cheating!' shrieked Jobiska. 'He's willing his counters to change colour so he's got more points!'

'I did not!' Owis exclaimed.

'I saw you!'

Owis flopped back in his chair. 'This is boring. The board hasn't chasmed yet.'

Innocet shivered as a sudden chill took her. The card mansion teetered slightly. 'Where's Arkhew?' she said sternly.

Owis shrugged none too convincingly. 'Haven't seen him for candledays,' he lied.

With a manufactured boom, the top of the game board cracked across and gaped wide.

'Sepulchasm!' called Jobiska triumphantly.

Owis, frowning absurdly, struggled to will his counters to hover over the miniature abyss. He failed hopelessly. All the counters tumbled slowly out of sight into the pedestal.

A fresh judder trembled through the House. Innocet teetered on her perch. The mansion of cards slid and clattered across the table. She stared at the configuration they had made. The same shape they fell into every time she tried to divine the future by this method. Every time since the dark disgrace had begun. They always fell in the ancient red/black circle symbol of Death.

But this time there was a difference.

Above the table in the air, where it had been resting as the topmost card, spun the Hand of Souls. But it was no longer that card at all. At every turn it was a different sign - a Cloud, a Tear, then an Owl. Innocet cursed. The card was the Rogue - always hidden, changing suits as it moved through the pack - and she had not recognized it.

She started to tremble. In the spinning and winking of the candlelit card, she saw a great disaster approaching.

Again, the House shuddered in anticipation.

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There was a tock, followed by a tick.

Inside the clock's eye, Arkhew felt the clank of ancient wheels starting to turn. He scrambled to force a way out, but the gap closed as the spheres began to turn slowly inside each other. Through the crossing lattices, he saw the little planets of Gallifrey's solar system start to travel along their orbital wires in the false sky. The frozen gas giant Polarfrey came into conjunction with its fiery opposite Karn. An astrological figure galloped along the rising ring of the asteroid archipelago. It was Kasterborous the Fibster, the mythological Hero himself, pulling the chariot of silver fire to which he had been yoked by the Gods.

Ancient dust, thrown up by the sudden movement, clagged in the terrified Arkhew's throat and started to choke him.

Innocet felt the fit take its hold. She saw Owis peering down at her. He was mouthing something she could not make out. Then the second sight, which had always been the first true vision, took possession of what she saw. Her head jerked back. Her mouth gaped open. From her throat came a mysterious wheezing-vworping-groaning noise.