Bride Quest

An adventure of the Fourth Doctor, Sarah Jane Smith and Harry Sullivan.

by Clive May (clive@cj4386.demon.co.uk)

The copy right of all things pertaining to the concept and characters of Dr
Who is the property of the BBC.  This story is a work of fan fiction; it has
been written simply for the pleasure it gave me in writing it; and no money
has or will change hands with respect to the story.

The story and original characters are copyright Clive May 2001.

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Seven

Sarah goggled in amazement as the gigantic shadows stirred and came forth
from the gloom.  They were horses.  Or were they?  The great beasts looked a
bit like horses, but they towered too tall in the night, massive and
powerful.  It was one thing to have a fleeting glimpse of the animals in the
shadowy darkness with your vision unfocused and your mind still wandering
from the effects of Kerd - but up close!..  Sarah gave a little squeak, half
surprise, half awe and backed into the Doctor, who was coming up behind her
laden down with a great bundle of tack.

She spun round.  "What ARE THEY?" she demanded, her voice full of amazement.

The Doctor rested the tack on the ground and smiled a toothy grin up at the
animals.  "Horses," he told her, amusement sparkling in his blue eyes.

"No.  Doctor - horses are about so high and..." She waved a hand vaguely in
the air.

"They are horses," the Doctor insisted. "Or rather they were engineered and
bred from horses - shire horses in fact."

Harry came over lugging some more tack.  "But what ARE they now?  They might
have been bred from classic stock but they ARE NOT horses now."

Grinning, the Doctor tipped his hat back on his curls.  He glanced all around
at the frantic, but organised, activity going on in the horse corral.
"They're called Prairie Runners, actually," he conceded .  "Great Prairie
Runners in fact." He moved over to the nearest and reached out his hand,
looking back to Sarah and Harry.  "Come on over and make friends."

Sarah was amazed to see all the Runners turn their heads in her direction.  A
dozen or more narrow horsey faces gazed placidly at her and Harry.  A sudden
awful thought went through her mind.  "Eh..Doctor...Are they intelligent?"

"Of course they are, Sarah." And when her eyes had grown suitably wide, he
added.  "But only in the same way that any horse is intelligent."

Sarah's expression changed to one of annoyance at being tricked.

"But," the Doctor dropped in, his timing quite perfect.  "They are, of
course, telepathic!"

He stooped and gathered up the tack.  The runner shuffled into a more
convenient position, the great hooves thudding. Harry's amusement was cut
short when Sarah accidentally trod on his foot, wishing she had the weight of
a Runner to make the point really effectively.  Stifling a cry, he looked
around for the Runner assigned to him.  A dappled beast moved out from the
shadows and stepped delicately over to the Navy Surgeon. The Doctor watched
Harry set down the tack and run a hand thoughtfully down the leg of the
Runner, examining the pillar of flesh.  The navy surgeon frowned.
straightening, he reached up and patted the flank.  He stood back and ran an
inquiring eye over the big pie-bald beast.

"Something wrong, Harry?" the Doctor asked.

"It's this - ah - Runner?  I don't get it?"

The Doctor strolled over.  He looked the animal up and down.  He raised
his hat to the animal.  The Runner nodded its head in acknowledgement.
 There was a twinkle in the Doctor's eye and an irritating breezy tone in his
voice as he asked: "What don't you understand, Harry?"

"Well - it's like this.  You say this animal can run at twenty to thirty
miles an hour?"

The Doctor nodded.  "Correct."

Harry shook his head.  "I don't see how that can be? How much would you say
this animal weighs?"

The Doctor tipped back his head and ran an appraising eye over the beast.
"Oh - I'd say about eight tons imperial."

Harry nodded his agreement with the assessment.  "That's about what I
thought.  Well, look at these legs?"

The Doctor made an ostentatious show of examining them.  He patted a foreleg.
"Fine leg," he observed, and waited for Harry to go on.

"Well, Doctor," Harry explained.  "An animal weighing that much can't
possibly move at more than fifteen miles an hour without risking a broken
leg.  The shearing stress -"

 "Would break the bone," the Doctor finished for Harry.  "Except that this is
not an overgrown horse.  It's an animal specifically *designed* for a
purpose.  It has good old terran horses in its ancestry; but it's a
completely different animal now.  The bone is a compound containing metal
ions.  It's about twenty times stronger than a like thickness of calcium
sulphate."

"Even so, Doctor?"

The Doctor held up a hand.  "And it's not a solid bone.  The bone is made
up of hundreds of thousands of rods which are set in a matrix of
springy cartlidge.  These bone rods are free to slide over one another.  They
are the finest shock absorbers you'll ever find - that's why the ride is so
smooth.  Now come on - I'll help you with that saddle.  It doesn't sit like
on an ordinary horse -"

Two of the Khan's men were detailed off to assist Sarah with the task of
saddling.  In a very few minutes, the job was done.  Sarah and Harry were
boosted into the high saddles to join the rest of the troop; who were already
mounted, and waiting impatiently for the order to ride.  The Khan looked to
the Doctor for confirmation, received a nod of assent, that Sarah and Harry
were ready, and gave the order to lead off.  The troop swung out into the
broad way between the pitchings and turned into an avenue leading north
between the pitched tents of the Kulak.  They were urged into a trot, making
the earth shake with a thunder of hoof-beats.

At the back, Sarah called across to the Doctor from where she rode high and
proud on the back of her mount.  "They really are telepathic?"

The Doctor nodded. His mount nodded in perfect unison. The Doctor grinned at
Sarah, his teeth white in the gloom.  "Yes, really, Sarah.  But only in a
rudimentary way. All you have to do is to *know* where you want to go and
your Runner will know too."

After that, there was no more time for conversation, for they had cleared the
northern  outskirts of the tented city. The riders began to spread to left
and right, forming an inverted V. It was so that none would ride into the
mess kicked up by the horse in front, a practical consideration. It also just
happened to be the sacred sign of the Holy Mother Goddess.

At the point of the V, Kulak Kharran stood up in the stirrups and raised his
right hand.  He made a complicated gesture.  His booming voice rolled back
over the thunder of the hooves as he bellowed: "WE RIDE!  KHARRAN KHAN
RIDES!" His hand swept forward and down pointing into the dark prairie lying
north east.  As a single unit, the Runners leapt to the gallop.

So powerful was the surge as they took off, that Sarah almost came adrift.
She let out a wild yell, which was half surprise, half exhilaration.  Riding
the Runners was like every roller coaster ride she had ever experienced,
rolled into one, and then some.  Before her, cloaks flapped in the wind of
their passage.  The hooves drummed a tattoo of wrath on the hard packed
ground.  The Holy Breath of the Mother streamed past them, drawing out
platted hair into fluttering banners.  Some of the men had tied scraps of
cloth, dipped in luminous paint, to their braids.  The glowing tatters of rag
flapped in a merry multi-coloured dance, haloing their heads in fire.  It was
an awesome thing: Kharran Khan riding out in defence of Clan Honour.

It was a wild ride.  They galloped; they thundered; they pounded along.
Through the dark, through the night, and into the morning.  Out in front,
racing away, the Shivan Witch leading the charge, into the north on her
straining grey.  Thus did the echelon of horse thunder north, following the
great wide way of the ancients.  Behind them trailed a vengeful thunder and a
cloud of dust.  It was the most exhilarating adventure Sarah had ever
experienced on her journyings with the Doctor.  She kept breaking into wild
laughter, shouting her excitement into the streaming wind.

All along the track of their wild charge, men and women came out to stand
among their flocks, listening, knowing from the rolling thunder that a
Southland Khan rode in anger.

In the last hours before dawn, the troop of Runners were dragged to a halt at
a group of sheep folds, gathered around a dozen big prairie wagons and a few
semi-permanent barns.

The place was in uproar.  Men and women ran about shouting.  They were mostly
elderly, those left behind as guardians for the flocks, whilst most were off
at the festival.

As the troop pulled up in a great cloud of dust, Kulak Khan's heart sank.
All about was confusion.  He did not have to listen to the babbling oldsters'
explanations; it was obvious what had happened - Grimlak Vilian had been
there before them.  About a dozen ridden out Prairie Runners stood about the
wagons, shivering and blowing.  One was leaning against a wagon for support;
Two were down on their sides - not a good sign.  Several men and women were
fussing around them; but it was plain that they would not rise again.  All
the spent creatures bore the Tokens of the Vilian Clan.

The Khan swore loud and long, cursing the man, but mostly himself for his
short sightedness.  It was an obvious tactic: ride the mounts to a
standstill, then switch them.  In that way you gain doubly on any pursuit
which was moving fast in pursuit, but nursing their mounts for a long chase.
They had been very neatly out manoeuvred.

Every prairie runner on the steading would have been taken.  Of That, Kulak
Khan was grimly certain.  The only mounts he could see, were a few ordinary
horses.  There was no point in switching to them, the Prairie Runners they
now rode, even after the ride so far, still had enough left to easily
outdistance any mere horses - no matter how fresh.  There was nothing for it
but to ride on - no matter that it was now a lost cause.  On fresh runners,
Grimlak would outrun the pursuit without any trouble at all.

The Doctor swung down from the saddle.  Seeking through the confusion, he
found Sarah and Harry slumped against a sheep pen, heads on arms.  Neither
had dared to sit down in case it proved impossible to rise, so tired were
they.  He considered them a long moment before speaking.  "Sarah?"

She lifted her head, and pushed her wind-blown hair back from her face.

"Sarah?  We'll be riding out immediately.  Why not stay here and rest?  You
too Harry," he added, noticing the medical man's weary grimace at the
unwelcome news.

Sarah straightened, gritting teeth against the pain that bit her back and
legs.  Shaking her head, she shot the Doctor a smile of dogged determination,
sadly worn down by weariness.  She said: "Not on your life, Doctor.  I've
come this far - I'm going to se it through to the end."

"Good girl," the Doctor grinned.

"Me too," Harry added.

The Doctor clapped him on the shoulders.  Harry staggered under the well
meant blow.  The Doctor turned away to survey the disturbed steading.

A few yards away, the Khan sat astride his mount like a solid rock of
stillness while a sea of confusion washed about him.  He was watching with a
grim countenance his people milling about, endeavouring to put right the
damage done by Grimlak's visit.  He was searching the hectic scene of running
figures and dancing shadows.  His black eyes were blazing with anger.
Suddenly he stood up in the stirrups and bellowed:

"Saaralen?  Saaralen? Attend your Khan!"

A tall, middle aged woman with an air of authority, rose from tending one of
the downed Runners.  She cradled a small baby in the crook of one arm. Coming
to stand at the head of the Khan's Runner, she turned a grim face up to her
Clan Lord.

"Lord Khan!  We couldn't do anything.  We couldn't.  It was that dog Grimlak
Vilian.  We told him..."

"How long ago?" the Khan demanded.  "How long since they were here?"

"Half an hour - perhaps more.  Khan.  - I'm sorry.  We tried to delay them.
No one ought to treat animals like that.  And Demereen..."

"Saary, Saary," the Khan soothed in his gruff way.  " It's alright.  What
could you have done against an armed retinue.  Don't fret y'self woman."

"But you'll never catch them now.  The dogs took all the Runners.  Poor
Demmy!"

"Dontcha worry your head over that, m'dear.  There's still a good chance we
can overtake the dog.  By the Goddess!  We'll have him yet - if we press on,"
he lied.

He rose in the stirrups again.  "Mount up!" he bellowed.  'Mount up - The
Khan rides!"

In the moment of stillness before everyone scrambled to mount, Sarah's voice
rose into the sudden silence.  "Hey, Can someone give me a leg up?"

The ever gallant Harry moved to assist; but the Doctor got there first,
hoisting Sarah effortlessly over the back of the animal.  Harry led his own
Runner over to the sheep pens.  He clambered up to balance a moment on top of
the pen, before casting himself at the saddle.  The Doctor, who had swung up
with an almost indecent ease, watched Harry's undignified scramble, partly
amused, partly concerned.

The Khan rose in his stirrups to bellow the order to ride.  And they were off
again, riding into the morning, only now, with little real hope of saving
Demereen from Grimlak's cruelty.

For an hour, they pushed on at a fast pace into a grey dawn.  With the first
exhilaration of the wild ride hours past, Sarah's enthusiasm for the mad
adventure was waning fast.  She sagged in the saddle, tiredness stealing
throughout her entire body, growing ever more aware of sore muscles.  The
only thing keeping her going, was the irritating sight of the Doctor.  He
rode as the back-marker of the other leg of the V.  He sat the saddle with an
effortless grace, seemingly untouched by the hours of hard riding.  A broad
grin stretched his mouth, and his eyes sparkled with excitement.  His long
scarf fluttered over his right shoulder, as he flew his colours in his own
inimical style.

"If he can do it," Sarah hissed through gritted teeth, "Then so can I!" Even
so, if a halt was not called soon, she knew that she was going to fall off
sometime in the not to distant future.  The mounts seemed tireless; and
though they were the most comfortable ride she had ever experienced, Sarah
found herself wishing fervently that they would stop for a rest.  In front of
her, she could see Harry, head down, clinging on grimly.  He looked grey in
the soft light of dawn.

Before the racing group, the land trended upwards in a long gentle slope
culminating in a high skyline fringed with a ragged hem of trees.  Just as
they started in on this slope, the sun lifted a slender arc of yellow fire
over the horizon to their right.  The sky flared orange there, shading
through yellow to green then light blue as the arch of day mounted up the
dawn dark sky.  Beams of yellow brilliance lanced across the grasslands.
Sudden black shadows of clumps of trees reached across the flat fields
towards them.  Their own shadows leapt away into the west, flickering and
jigging over the grass.  Before the thundering symbol of the Goddess, the
Shivan Witch and her mount blazed suddenly with white fire.  At the apex of
the echelon, the Khan stood in his stirrups.  He lifted a clenched fist to
the sky.  Golden fire blazed from the ornamental wrist guard as he waved his
fist in the signal to "walk Horses".

As a single unit, Like a finely tuned machine, the Runners slowed.  The wings
of the formation closed up.  In seconds the troop had reformed as a double
line of mounted men along the middle of the great wide way.

As they crested the rise, the Khan signalled: "halt."  The men dismounted,
scattering right and left into the fringe of trees.  Most threw themselves
down on the leaf litter, while four spread out to take up sentry positions.

Harry moved his mount alongside Sarah.  "I'm all in, old girl." he admitted,
letting out his breath in a weary sigh.  His face was pale and grey with
dust. Grunting with the effort, he swung a leg over the mount and slid to the
grass of the roadside.  He took a few steps towards the scant shelter of the
trees, before slumping to the ground.  He stretched luxuriously in the grass.
It felt better than the softest feather bed.  "I could sleep for a week," he
murmured, closing his eyes.

Sarah, watching the medic, felt a wave of weariness close over her.  There
was nothing she wanted more than to slip from the saddle and join Harry
supine in the grass; but her indefatigable curiosity kept her in the saddle.
Something was going on up there on the skyline.

The Khan, Nylan, Kulaan, the Doctor and the Shivan Witch were gathered in a
tight knot on the edge of the world.  Beyond them was only azure blue sky,
decorated with puffs of orangei-pink clouds, scurrying westward at a lively
pace.  Silhouetted against that vast backdrop, the five motionless figures
glowed in the level rays of the sun.

Sarah urged her mount towards the group, eager to know what was a-foot.  As
she gained the highest point of the crest, she saw that beyond lay a vast
mist drifted depression.  Through ragged rents in the pearlescent curtains,
she could glimpse a vast vista of silver water, interspersed with banks of
grey-green reeds.  Here and there, low hummocks of land floated in the orange
mist.  Sinister looking trees, strangled by fleshy vines, huddled together,
their roots paddling in the scummy green waters.  Directly below the group on
the skyline, more of those dark trees grew, fringing the swamp with a dark
cordon.  Fifteen miles away across the swamp, a line of brown hills rose,
marking the northern margin.

A little to the west, the wide way they had been travelling, ended abruptly
on the brink of the depression in a ragged stub of what would have been a
bridge of stupendous proportions.  The sharp angles and edges of the fracture
had been weathered by the gentle, but insistent pressure of time, until they
had been worn smooth.  Greenery, rooted in the cracks, was forcing the mighty
blocks asunder, patiently undoing the unnaturally straight lines wrought by
the hand of man in the long ago.  Scabrous patches of multi-coloured lichens
stained the cracking stonework.

A quarter mile out, the broken stump of a bridge piling squatted in the mist,
overgrown with vines.  A quarter mile beyond that, another stump showed
through the mist; and beyond, a whole series of broken supports curved away
into the north west, marking the place where the ancient bridge had carried
the road over the Mire.  Twenty yards back from the brink, a rutted track
diverged from the great way, winding along the high ground into the west, to
skirt the southern margins of the watery depression.

"The Great Mire!" the Doctor announced, gesturing to the expanse of marsh
before them.  "Impressive, isn't it?"

"It has a certain beauty," Sarah conceded grudgingly, a nasty suspicion
forming.

Misinterpreting the reluctance, the Doctor asked: "Sorry you came?"

Sarah stiffened at the slight note of challenge in his voice.  She
straightened in the saddle and glared at him.  "Wouldn't have missed it for
the world." she pronounced pugnaciously, unable to tear her gaze away from
the sinister beauty spread out at their feet.

"Doctor?  We're going straight through that marsh?  Aren't we?"

The Doctor cast another glance at the rolling banks of orange tinged fog
obscuring the reeds, rising from the pools of stagnant green water.  The wind
had torn ragged rents in the mist, exposing more of the humped islands,
separated by the channels of clear, silver water.  He considered the dripping
vista a long moment, switched his attention to the others studying the marsh
a few yards off with grim consideration.  Then he looked back to Sarah.

"I rather think you might be right, Sarah," he admitted.  "Still glad you
came?"

"Yes.  What is she doing over there?"

A few yards east of the road, the Shivan Witch stood on the shoulders of her
Runner, scrutinising the nearer part of the Great Mire.  She remained thus a
long time, the Breath of Mother streaming her long hair.  At last, she gave a
little shrug.  Turning, she trotted back along the animal and settled
herself, cross-legged, on the rump.

The Khan and Nylan heeled their Runners closer.

"Is it safe to cross, Little Mother?" the Khan asked.

"No.  But you will cross anyway?"

The Khan glanced at Kulaan.  The boy sat his mount, right at the brink of the
declivity.  He was staring north to the brown hills, fifteen miles distant.
The Khan pulled thoughtfully at his moustache, turning the matter over in his
mind.

"What other choice is there?" he answered the Shivan at last.  "Of course we
ride."

The Shivan nodded as though the Khan's words had merely confirmed what she
already knew.  "Will you not delay an hour until the mists have lifted?"

The Khan shook his head.  "We ride," he reiterated.  Turning in his saddle,
he bellowed to the men lounging among the trees: "Mount up!  The Khan rides!"

Men began scrambling up from the grass, climbing wearily back into saddles.
With obvious reluctance, Harry hauled himself into the saddle.  The Doctor
watched him with concern.  Then he glanced across at Sarah.  Her face was
set, determined; but her bone weariness showed in the slump of her shoulders
and the way she sagged in the saddle.  Well, he'd tried to talk them out of
it, but they had both insisted.  He felt a little surge of pride at their
decision.

The Khan stood in the stirrups, a fearsome black figure against the wide sky.
He lifted his right arm and signalled "move out", bringing his hand down and
pointing east.

As the troop moved out, the Doctor fell in beside Sarah and Harry.  He called
across to them: "Are you sure you won't stop here?  The Khan would leave a
man to look after you."

Sarah straightened in the saddle.  The set of her expression hardened.  A
determined glint entered her eyes.  "What!  And miss all the fun?  Not on
your life, Doctor!" and she urged her Runner into a trot.

Harry's face fell, his hopes of a long rest dashed.  Sometimes Sarah didn't
know when to give in.  And, of course, if Sarah was game for the adventure,
then he could hardly pull out, wouldn't be gallant and all that.

The Doctor shot him a grin of commiseration.  "Never mind, Harry.  We'll be
travelling slower as soon as we get into the marsh."

Harry nodded grimly and urged his mount into a trot.  They rode east for a
bout a mile, before the Shivan Witch angled her grey gelding obliquely down
the slope.  In single file, they passed between the fleshy trunks of the
trees fringing the marsh.  A few minutes later, they emerged onto a bar of
higher ground which angled away into the north east.  The causeway ran for a
hundred yards.  It ended in a broad circular platform of packed earth and
stones.  All around the edge of this landing, posts had been driven into the
foot of the bank.  Heavy iron mooring rings, pitted with corrosion and brown
with rust, hung from the posts.  A dozen or more flat bottomed boats lay
stacked around the edge of the pad, draped with oiled linen shrouds.

The Khan indicated the covered humps of the stacked boats.  "Them reed
gathrin' fellas have finished for the season.  S'not a good sign.  They
usually leave things 'till the last minute."

"Last minute for what?" Sarah inquired of no one in particular.

Nylan leaned across and said: "Before the Bog Worms rise for the summer
mating.  Bound to be some early risers about by now."

The Shivan urged her mount to the edge of the standing.  Rising to her feet
on the Runner's shoulders, she studied the fog enshrouded marshland.  A stiff
breeze was tearing the curtains of mist into orange tinted tatters, exposing
the unwholesome grey of the reedy hummocks, grown with dark trees.  Between,
the water flashed silver with the rising light of day.

The Khan urged his Runner alongside the white gelding.  He examined the
stretches of silver water with a keen interest.  Rafts of water fowl paddled
around in the open water.  The air was noisy with their quarrelsome quacking.
the rising sun struck multi-coloured sheens from their bright plumage as they
dabbled for food.  He could detect nothing sinister in the scene - and yet...

As though reading his thoughts, the Shivan said: "They are there!"

"Is it possible to slip across?"

"I will see," she said.  Throwing back her head, the Shivan let out a high
clear note which made the Runners flinch.

"What's she doing?" Sarah asked, patting the neck of her Runner to sooth its
jangled nerves.  " That noise!  It gets right inside you -"

Sarah broke off with a gasp as the waters of the marsh some fifty yards away
erupted in a great welling of mud and detritus.  As a single entity, the
ducks exploded into flight, filling the air with alarmed squawking, the
clattering of wings, and rainbows of shimmering silver spray.

From the middle of the mad confusion, a great black snake like thing reared
fifteen feet into the air.  The sunlight struck a deep green sheen from the
skin.  It had an eyeless head, set with several irregular patches of putrid
yellow which were pulsing a deeper hue as the blunt snout quested about.
From under its chin, dozens of thin tentacles coiled.  Several lashed out.
Puffs of bright feathers exploded from some fleeing fowl, as the cruel hooks
at their tips bit deep into flesh.  Fluttering madly, the doomed birds were
transferred, flapping and squawking, to the creature's great mouth.  Rows of
needle sharp teeth closed on the vibrating bodies of the birds.  Bones
crunched; feathers flew;  blood sprayed, staining the mist crimson.

"Crikey!" exclaimed Harry, startled out of his exhausted doze.  "What IS
that?"

"Bog Worm," the Doctor informed him.

"It's gigantic!" Sarah cried, fighting to stay on as the Runner backed
suddenly, and threatened to rear up.  All the beasts reacted in varying
degrees, reflecting their riders reactions; only the mounts of the Shivan and
the Doctor remained still.

The Doctor ran an appraising eye over the monster.  "Half grown female," he
declared calmly.  "You can tel by the green sheen.  Shouldn't be too much
trouble."

"Half grown?" Harry was incredulous.  "That's half grown?"

"Oh yes.  A really big bull can reach - Ah?  I think it's sensed us."

The glistening monstrosity ceased crunching up the mangled remains of the
birds.  Its red slimed maw nosed in their direction.  The tentacles below the
mouth went into a frenzy of coiling; the wicked hooks tipping each gleamed.
It began moving towards them, with surprising speed for such a bulky
creature.

At that same instant, the Shivan's song changed to a fluctuating pattern of
over lapping tones.  The monster hesitated.  It's blind head quested about
  in obvious confusion for a few seconds, before the great worm turned aside,
and slid out of sight below the surface.  A rippling V wake moved away among
the reeds, fading as it went. In moments the churned water, discoloured by
mud and blood, had settled.

Sarah and Harry remembered to breathe.

"Did the Shivan do that?" asked Harry, a new respect lighting his eyes as he
regarded the little woman.

"Yes.  She can Sing the Worms.  Small ones at least.  I don't think she'd
have been quite so successful with a really big bull.  Come on, we're off."

The Shivan squatted down on her Runner and the big beast moved delicately
down the shallow slope into the marsh proper.  It sank up to its hocks in the
scummy water.  A noisome stench arose from under the animal's trampling
feet.  After going some ten yards, the Shivan turned in the saddle and
warned.

"Stay exactly in my tracks.  The way is narrow.  In places, a foot to either
side will bring you to disaster.  Keep true to my path." She urged the grey
forwards again.

Sarah and Harry came down at the back of the line of Runners.

The path the party followed wound among the clumps of reeds.  Where it humped
over the scattered islands, they fought their way through the fat fleshy
trunked trees.  Beyond, they splashed once more through long stretches of
clear water, detouring around the deeper stagnant pools. Clouds of midges
rose in humming swarms from the reed-beds and made a nuisance of themselves.
Much to Kulaan's agitation, the Khan called a general halt while hoods of a
gauzy material were taken out and donned as protection from the buzzing
biting  pests.
A hood was offered to the Doctor; but he declined with an apologetic grin.
The midges didn't appear to bother him in the least.

All the while this was going on,  Kulaan fidgeted in his saddle, impatient to
get on. He kept looking, with a desperate longing, at the brown hills
fringing the northern shore.

At last, much to the boy's relief, they set out again, following the lead of
the Shivan.  They had got barely fifty yards from the island on which they
had broken their journey, when the calamity befell the m.

The Doctor, with Sarah in close attendance, had moved up to ride with Nylan.
He was in ernest conversation with the little man, when he saw the Shivan's
head jerk to the left.

At that very instant, a gigantic shape erupted from the water, fifty yards
from the column.

A shudder ran through the column of Runners.  Many shied.  Only the control
exerted on them by the riders, kept them from plunging to disaster in the
bog.  Sarah's mount, reacting to her sudden shock, bucked wildly.  She
screamed as she and the Runner parted company.  She landed heavily with a
great splash in the filthy water.  Her Runner plunged away with an almighty
splashing only to be mired before it had got more than ten yards.



The terrified screaming and struggling of Sarah's Runner, sent a wave
of alarm through the rest. They pranced nervously on the narrow way in
danger of losing their footing on the firm ground. It took every  bit of the
control and experience of the Khan's riders to hold them in check.  Kulaan
almost came adrift.


Unnoticed, Harry too went backwards; but he was more fortunate; his fall was
cushioned by a bank of reeds.  His mount broke away and dashed through a
great spray of stinking water onto the island they had just left.  It forced
its way in among the trees, struggling on until it was wedged tight.  Then,
it just stood there trembling with terror.

Only two Runners remained untroubled, that of the Doctor
and the Shivan.

The great worm, drawn by Sarah's yelling as she thrashed about, mired up to
her waist, surged suddenly at the knot of travellers.  It reared up over the
group, the blind head questing back and forth.  The Many whip like tentacles
raking the air blindly.  In an instant, the Shivan Witch was standing on the
rump of her beast.  She raised thin arms.  A shiver of overlapping sound rose
from her working throat.  The monster paused.


Nylan and two others were struggling with small crossbows.

'Hold it Shiv!  Hold it!  For the Mother's sake - hold it!" the Khan cried in
a low, intense exhortation.  He dragged his lance free from its sheath.
Tugging, kicking, and urging his mount silently, the Khan manhandled the big
black beast around so that he might bring his lance into play.

The Doctor, worried about Sarah, stood up in the stirrups, preparing to jump
down to aid her.

The Shivan redoubled her efforts.  The sound intensified.  In concentrating
all her will on the restraining song, she had nothing left with which to
sooth the panic in her mount.  Suddenly released from the Shivan's calming
will, the grey gelding shifted sideways.  Momentarily distracted, the
Shivan's song faltered, grew uncertain.  The hold on the worm gave way.  The
thing surged forward, swooping down on the band of frightened men.

The Doctor forgot Sarah's plight and snatched his sonic screwdriver from a
pocket.  Twisting the dial to maximum output, he considered the developing
situation.  He fingered the activation switch uncertainly.  It would be
better if the Shivan could hold off the monstrous creature.  If the sonic
screwdriver had to be used, there was a good chance that it would kill the
brave little woman.

The Doctor grimaced at the thought: one life for many?  These decisions ought
to get easier - but they never did.

The looming black bulk was writhing and swaying in its eagerness to get at
the trapped column of men and animals.  Repeatedly, the Bog Worm darted its
head forward, only to be met and repulsed by a new intensity of song from the
Shivan.  But with each rally and retreat it gained a few yards.  Each lunge
sent a wave of stinking water washing among the legs of the great runners.
They were snorting and stamping in near panic, held in check only by the iron
control of their riders.

If one of the men panicked?

The column had to be got moving, and quickly, before that happened.

The Doctor leaned across to the Khan.  'Get the men moving," he urged ,
careful not to raise his voice.  Any distraction would be fatal.

Kulak Kharran Khan had faced Bog Worms before, on a number of occasions.  He
knew the dangers. He knew also, that if you kept a cool head, there was a
good chance of getting away with your life.  He raised his lance and
signalled for the column to move forward at a walk.  He and Nylan moved aside
to allow the men to proceed.

Bellan, the man next in line urged his runner forward.  Attracted by the
movement, the Bog Worm made a particularly vigorous lunge.  The runner, given
leave to move by Bellan, panicked.  In terror of the descending bulk, it
skittered sideways away from the worm.  The creature lost its footing on the
solid ground and floundered deeper into the stinking mire, its thrashing legs
kicking up a spray of muddy water.  The creature rolled onto its side,
spilling Bellan into the churning mess.  Screaming in terror, the doomed
animal sank inexorably among the clumps of reeds.

It was the last straw.  All hell broke loose.

The song of the Shivan faltered.  The head of the Monster swept down.  The
tentacles lashed out viciously.  One fell across the cheek of a rider.  He
screamed.  Clutching at his torn face, he catapulted from the saddle.
Another hook slashed across the Doctor's shoulder.  It ripped through the
thick fabric of the coat, digging viciously into flesh.  Red blood ran in a
gush.

The safe passage was lost.

Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, the Doctor said a silent apology to the
Shivan, and activated the device in his hand.

The little woman,  who had been standing defiantly under the descending mouth
of the worm,still desperately trying to re-establish control, screamed in
agony.  She clapped hands to her head and plunged from the rump of her beast.
She went face down into the churning muck and lay there, writhing in agony
amid the madly stamping hooves. One great hoof stamped down, missing her head
by inches, crushing a swath of her black mane into the mud, cruelly wrenching
the head sideways.  Filthy water closed over her face.

In a sudden moment of compassion for the plight of the tiny woman, the
Doctor turned down the power.  Instantly, the worm advanced again, tentacles
whistling in the air, curved hooks clawing for flesh.

The narrow way became a bedlam of plunging beasts, splashing water and
screaming men.  The worm struck down taking one man's head and shoulder into
its red maw.  The man's screaming was cut short by a ghastly crunching.
Scarlet spurted from between the grinding teeth.

The Doctor cursed his stupidity.  He wrenched the power back to maximum.  The
beast slid back.

A hand clutched at his upraised arm.  "You're killing her!  You're killing
the Shivan!"

"I know.  I know," the Doctor cried in an anguished voice.  "But if I turn
the power down, the thing will kill us all.  Use your bows.  Aim for the
yellow patches on the side of the head.  They're sensing organs.  quick.  The
Shivan can't last much longer."

The Khan stood up in the stirrups and cast his lance with a mighty effort.
The spear rammed into the thing just under the mouth, impaling a tentacle to
the glistening body.  The men were now collecting themselves.  Taking their
cue from the Khan's action, they hurled lances.  Others were struggling with
cross bows.  Nylan, who had dropped to the ground to get a still place to
shoot from, stood up to his waist in water.  With a commendable calm, he was
aiming the cross-bow.  He loosed.  The black bolt hissed up, impaling one of
the yellow patches sinking out of sight.  the thing reared back,its blunt
snouted head questing about.

A dozen bows twanged.  A wave of black bolts slashed up into the head of the
monster.  It let out a thin scream.  Greenish ichor bubbled from the torn
flesh.  More bows twanged.  A second flight deadly darts slashed up into the
head.  A few spears followed.

Then, amazingly, the peril was over.  The wounded worm suddenly reared back
and up.  It coiled around and dived back into the churning water.  A great
wave of muck and detritus surged about the desperate group of men.  Several
of them were washed over.  Only the massive bulks of the runners stopped more
men from being lifted by the tide and deposited in the swamp.

The Doctor switched off his sonic screwdriver.  The first thing he e heard
was Sarah's panicky voice calling for help.

A dozen yards from the path, Sarah was floundering, up to her waist in the
muck.  Behind her a man was trying to push her towards the path.  The Doctor
sprang in to action.

Grabbing a lance he waded out as far as he dared, extending the pole before
him.

It was too short.
The Doctor took another step, reaching out with the lance towards the
struggling woman.

"Doctor!  No!," the Khan cried.  'This bog is deadly!" The Doctor shot him a
anguished look.  The Khan was un-looping a halter strap.  He held out one end
to the Doctor.  "Here, hold this."

The Doctor looped the strap around his wrist.  He took another step and
sank to his waist.  He stretched out the spear towards Sarah's  groping
fingers.   "Sarah!  Here Sarah." he urged.  "Grab the end!"

Sarah made a lunge,  straining for the pole; but it remained,
maddeningly, just out of reach. Panic gripped her as she felt herself being
sucked down deeper into the clammy muck.

"Again!" yelled the Doctor.  "Again, Sarah!"

"Come on, old girl," Harry encouraged, holding onto the back of the Doctor's
 coat.   'You can do it!"

"I can't," she shouted in rising panic.

"Yes you can, Sarah! Come on! Try!" the Doctor yelled at her, his voice hard.

Behind her, Bellan rowed at the clinging muck gripping him.  pushed   He
gained a few precious inches.
Gathering himself for a huge effort, he put hands under Sarah's arm pits.
'Now! Sarah! Now - Push!" he shouted, simultaneously shoving for all he was
worth.

Sarah was boosted up towards the promised safety of the lance. Behind her,
Bellan sank back up to his chin.  'Go Sarah.  Go Sarah," he screamed.  Then
to the Khan he cried.  'Save Demereen!  Save Demereen!  Save -" His voice
stopped in a choking gasp as the water flowed into his open mouth.

Watching helpless, the doomed thrashing of Bellan, the Khan uttered a pledge
under his breath.  "If the first-born is a son?  he shall be named Bellan."
Then out loud, he cried his pledge to the man sunk in the mire.  It was the
only thing that could be done to reward Bellan's courageous sacrifice.

"He shall be Bellan!  If Demereen's first-born is a boy, he shall be named
Bellan!" he affirmed;  but the man could no longer hear him.

At the Khan's side, straining for every millimetre, the Doctor held out the
lance, while Harry and Nylan held on to him desperately.  Sarah's fingers
were still short.  The Doctor met her frightened gaze, willing power into her
tired body, willing her to one more effort.

"Come on! Sarah!  You can do it!"

"It's too far?" she mouthed, not having breath for voice.

"For bellan," the Khan said in the sudden silence.  'Sarah, do it for bellan.
Don't let his sacrifice be in vain.  For Bellan."

The mud was up to her breasts.  It's powerful grip was clammy.  Sarah forced
herself to relax.  She drew in as much air as she could, and made a final
effort.  She stretched and lunged.  At the same moment the Doctor risked one
last surge forward into the deadly bog.  He was already sunk down to his
waist.  The tip of the lance and Sarah's fingers brushed, parted, came
together again.   Her fingers closed over the shaft.

The watching men let out a great shout of triumph.  The Doctor drew back,
steadily but surely, frightened of tearing her grip free.

Sarah clung on with a desperate strength.  Easing back gently, the Doctor's
more than human strength wrested Sarah,  inch by precious inch, from the
deadly grip of the marsh. A minute and a half later, she was up on the path,
clutched in Harry's protective arms.  She was gasping for breath,and sobbing
wildly.

They floundered back onto the relatively dry ground of the island they had
just left.  The Khan who had been carrying the limp form of the Shivan, set
her down on a bed of trampled reeds.  Harry knelt beside the comatose form to
examine the woman.  The Doctor crouched beside him.

"How is t'little Mother?" the Khan asked his voice urgent.

               "Give me a moment," Harry said. distractedly "Can't rush
something like this." He  felt for a pulse, found none and frowned in
puzzlement.

The Khan watched Harry's futile ministrations in a fretful silence for a few
moments, then he cast a fearful glance out at the mire.

"Don't have the time for this doctoring carry on," he said.  "That  to do out
there'll fetch worms from clear across the world. We've got to be gone and
right now!  Or, by the Mother, we'll not be going at all!"

Harry looked up.  "She's in a very bad way.  If we move her now, I'll not
answer for the consequences."



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