Doctor Who: BBC Eighth Doctor Adventures [031] - The Shadows of Avalon

Author:Paul Cornell
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science-Fiction - Doctor Who
ISBN: 9780563555889
Publisher: BBC Books
Published: 2000-02-06T23:00:00+00:00

Part Three

The Taking of Avalon

Chapter Eight

Call it an Exorcism if you Want

Lethbridge-Stewart sucked in a breath as the ground fire once more blew the gravel away from the ridge just above his head. His men reflexively ducked once more as small stones and clods of earth pattered down on their heads, the concussion ringing in their ears. They had swarmed up the side of this hill during the night, winding their bodies from side to side through the long grass, roaming from cover to cover at high speed. It had looked then, as it had looked on the tactical maps back at C&C, as if they could reach the Faerie installations along the top of this line of hills before the dawn.

Mab’s mages considered these green domelike structures, newly appeared on the Aurora’s digital scans a few miles into what was considered Faerie territory, to be where the various magical fields that were halting the air bombardment were emanating from. The Brigadier had chosen two companies from the UNIT regiment, supplemented by two companies of Welsh Guards, to take the installations and bring down the barriers. The men had chalk dust rubbed into their hair, and streaks of woad across their faces, and specifically designed and personalised tattoos rubbed into their skin with henna. The troopers had laughed at that, the Welsh Guards more than the UNIT men, of course. But he suspected that they all secretly appreciated the decorations.

The Brigadier himself had turned down all such defences, even though Mab had tried to force him to take one of the charms from her hair. He said these things just weren’t him, and she’d spat in front of his boots and said that Brigida would never accept his sacrifice.

They’d landed under the range of the magical auras, which had knocked helicopters out of the sky before now, and had made their way up the hillsides without incident. Until there had come a shout from the right flank and the sudden bloom of an explosion – and then the night air was full of blistering random fire, the metal spikes coming at them, mixed in with blazing phosphorescent bolts that set men on fire and reduced them to ashes in an instant.

The advance had collapsed, fallen into little patches of cover all across the hillsides. They’d thought that the bombardment would lessen as the Faerie defenders sought to conserve their ammunition, but it had just kept on going, for six hours now. The long grass was full of the spent shafts. The sun had risen, and was now high in the sky. They were dangerously exposed on this hillside, vulnerable to dragon attack. And they were getting low on water. The Brigadier’s little group were sheltering in the lee of what might have been a primitive chalk quarry, a crumbling ridge cut in the ground. Thankfully, there were quite a few of these across the fields.

The Brigadier saw the faces of the men crouched around him. Professional, afraid, hopeless. They’d calculated the position they were in.

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