His expression grew more serious. 'Nothing except just walk away.

Go back to the TARDIS and leave. And we're not going to do that, are we?'

'No.'

'There's no point standing around up here wondering what's down there,' the Doctor told her as he fastened a karabiner to his climbing harness, 'when we can easily go down and just have a look.'

'But you saw what happened to the bucket,' Martha argued. 'It nearly broke the windla.s.s.'

He shrugged. 'Sadie could be right, it could have been an accident.'

'You don't really believe that, do you?' He didn't reply. He simply turned to Angela and asked, 'All set?'

She gave him the thumbs-up and demonstrated the winch and pulley system she had set up under the new windla.s.s. 'It's a modern equivalent of a block and tackle,' she told them. 'Very simple to operate it lets the rope out at a steady rate through this. . . ' she rattled a steel handgrip through which the rope pa.s.sed. There was a hand-operated lever attached so that it looked like an oversized bicycle grip and brake. 'If I keep the lever pressed the rope plays out. If I release the grip then it locks. Safe as houses.'

'This rope is a lightweight nylon mix used by mountaineers and potholers,' explained Sadie, holding up a length of bright blue cord which led back to a large drum. 'It's perfect for this kind of job.'

'You're certainly well prepared,' commented Martha, impressed.

'The secret of our success, dear.'

'We'll lower you down,' said Angela, as the new rope was attached to the Doctor's climbing harness. 'Take it slowly because we really don't know what you'll find there could be partial collapse of the shaft wall, tree roots, undergrowth, anything. You'll need this, too.'

She handed him a large torch. The Doctor switched it on and trained it on his other hand; even in broad daylight the beam looked powerful.

There was a lanyard attached, which the Doctor hooked onto his belt.

'Take this as well,' Sadie said, handing him a compact radio.

'Walkie-talkie. You can stay in touch with us up here, and report back what you find. If there's the slightest problem, yell and we'll pull you up sharpish.'

'It'll be cold down there,' cautioned Angela. 'Don't you want to put something warmer on?'

The Doctor said he was fine as he was and then swung his long legs over the parapet of the well-shaft. Martha looked down into the inky depths and shivered. 'You will be careful, won't you?'

''Course I will,' he replied cheerily, as if he was never anything but.

'Don't worry, I'm only popping down for a quick look. I'll be back in five minutes.' He checked the rope by giving it a hard tug, and then looked at her. Again, there was that seriousness back in his dark eyes and Martha felt an intense pang of worry. 'Listen,' he said, quietly. 'If anything goes wrong go and see Henry Gaskin.'

Martha frowned. 'What? Why him?'

But the Doctor had already swung himself off the wall and was dangling over the well-shaft. He swung gently to and fro, and Angela began to squeeze the winch grip. Slowly the rope began to move through the pulley hanging from the windla.s.s and the Doctor was lowered into the well.

'Good luck!'

Sadie called down after him.

He looked up and grinned, already disappearing into the cool shadows. 'Be careful!'

After a very few seconds Martha saw the Doctor switch his torch on and a bright white beam stabbed into the shaft wall. She caught a glimpse of crumbling brickwork as the light swivelled erratically; the Doctor was beginning to turn on the rope. The torchlight described a complete circle and the last thing Martha saw of the Doctor was a brief glimpse of his long, pale face looking back up at her. Then he was submerged in a pool of darkness and all she could make out was the distant glow of the torch. He had been completely lost from sight in a remarkably short time.

She forced herself to look up at the winch. There was still an awful lot of rope on the drum to play out. He had a long way to go.

Duncan and Ben were working their way past a large rock embedded in the earth. It took several big hits with the pickaxe to split the thing, but eventually they were able to pull the broken pieces out and discard them. They were taking less care with the loosened soil now because they knew they were nearly at the end of things; there was no need to ferry it all back up to the entrance and keep everything tidy.

'Watch out for our friend,' said Ben, as Duncan threw a chunk of rock across the tunnel and narrowly missed the skeleton.

'Sorry, mate,' Duncan grinned at the skull. 'I wonder who he really was?'

'I told you, it was the highwayman,' said Nigel. He was leaning against the tunnel wall, hands on his knees, feeling very unwell. The others put it down to claustrophobia. He knew it was something far worse. 'I mean, what was his name?' wondered Duncan.

Ben said, 'We'll have to call him John Doe.'

'Nah, too American. He's English: Joe Bloggs.'

'Joe Bones, you mean.'

'Hah! Yeah, Joe Bones. h.e.l.lo, Joe, nice to meet you!' Duncan bowed to the skeleton. 'Hey, Joe, you've lost a bit of weight.'

They laughed together, starting to feel a bit drunk on the prospect of being so close to the end. Treasure or not, they both wanted this digging over.

'Hey, look at this,' Duncan said, when they had calmed down a little.

He was pointing at the cavity in the earth where the big rock had been.

Immersed in the soil was a tangle of pale and fibrous vegetable matter.

'What's that?'

'Roots or something, I suppose,' said Ben.

'I'd have thought we were a bit far down for roots,' Duncan remarked. 'There aren't any trees near enough which could have a root system running this deep.'

Ben shrugged. 'I don't know. There could be some old growth down here, I suppose.' He bent down to have a closer look. The tendrils were so pale they were almost white, straggling through the soil like thin wires. 'It looks very pale starved of sunlight. No photosynthesis.

Probably dead.'

'Weird!'

Duncan moved the torch closer and the roots almost seemed to glow. 'I've never seen anything like that before!'

'Come and have a look at this, Nigel,' said Ben, indicating the remains of the white weed-like substances trailing through some of the soil and rock fragments. 'What do you make of it?'

'Nothing,' Nigel replied, hardly sparing it a glance. He sounded distracted. 'It's not treasure is it? That's all we're interested in. . . '

Duncan was watching Nigel closely. 'Hey, Nigel. You don't look well, you know.'

'I'm fine.'

Ben looked. 'Dune's right. You look as white as a ghost. Why don't you go and have a sit down, let us carry on.' By now Nigel was leaning weakly against the tunnel wall. 'I think I'm just tired. We're so close. . . '

Duncan rested a hand on his shoulder. 'Do what Ben says. Go and have a rest. We'll come back and get you the moment we find anything.'

'I-I don't know. . . ' Nigel didn't look happy about it.

'We've got another couple of metres to go,' Ben a.s.sured him. 'It's not much but there's a lot of rock and it could take a little while longer.

You can't stand here. You look like you're going to throw up any minute.'

'All right,' Nigel nodded. 'Call me the instant you find anything.'

'Will do.' Duncan patted him on the arm and Nigel walked slowly away, heading back up the tunnel.

Nigel stopped at the mouth of the tunnel and took several deep breaths. The climb back up the steep gradient had winded him but his whole body was tingling and there was a familiar stirring deep inside his head.

He felt in his coat pocket and took out the stone.

It was vibrating; just slightly, enough for him to feel it through his gloves. A sort of complacent hum, almost like the purring of a cat.

He raised it up so that he could look at it more closely. The surface had changed. And, even as he watched, the surface began to move microscopically, almost as if a million tiny fragments were chasing each other around like insects. It made the stone appear almost fuzzy, or blurred. Nigel had once seen a termite mound disturbed; the number of insects that had poured out had formed a sort of living ma.s.s, a river of movement, and that's what the surface of the thing looked like now. It still felt solid in his hand, but he could see and feel the activity.

He wondered if the stone was as excited as he was.

'What's the matter?' Nigel asked. 'You've never done this before.'

i must grow. . . i must feed 'Nearly there,' he murmured soothingly. 'Nearly there. . . '

hurry Tiny little fingers stood up from the surface of the stone, uncoiling and probing the air like worms. They waved blindly for a few moments, sliding over his fingers and hands, and then began to lash back and forth in a more feverish manner. Tiny little fingers stood up from the surface of the stone, uncoiling and probing the air like worms. They waved blindly for a few moments, sliding over his fingers and hands, and then began to lash back and forth in a more feverish manner.

i must grow Nigel smiled. 'Yes! I know. . . I know. . . we're so very close now. . . '

it is not enough 'I'm sorry, I don't understand. . . '

you will never understand Suddenly, sharp, barbed spines dug into his hands and Nigel cried out in pain. He felt the blood welling from his palms and fingers, and, when he tried to let go of the stone, he found that it was impossible.

'What are you doing? You're hurting me!'

i must feed and grow. the time of rising is near Nigel gasped in pain. 'I don't know what you mean '

i am ready 'R-ready for what?'

the rising He couldn't bear it any long, couldn't understand what was happening. The pain in his hands was intense, but nothing compared to the pain in his head. It felt as if the little barbs had reached all the way into his mind and were tearing through his brain tissue.

Nigel forgot all about Duncan and Ben, all about the treasure, everything. All he wanted to do now was get out and breathe fresh, clean air. He had to get away from here.

He had to get away from the stone.

But, try as he might, he couldn't get rid of it; he shook his hands but the stone held fast, digging its little fingers deeper into his flesh.

With a sob of fear, Nigel emerged into the blinding light of day and stumbled forward.[image]

At the top of the well, Sadie was showing Martha how to use the walkie-talkie. 'This red light means it's on. That's the frequency it's set to channel one. Press this switch when you speak, release it to listen.'

'Gotcha.'

They were looking down into the well, but all they could see was the blue rope disappearing into the darkness. Martha kept thinking she could see the distant glimmer of the Doctor's torch as it moved around the shaft, but she couldn't be sure.

She pressed the switch on the walkie-talkie. 'Doctor? Are you there?'

She remembered the way people usually spoke on radio transceivers and added, 'Do you read me, over?'

The walkie-talkie crackled and then the Doctor's voice rang out loud and clear: 'h.e.l.lo, Martha!'

She laughed with relief and pressed the switch again. 'We can't see you any more. What's it like down there?'

'Dark and cold,' came the reply with a crackle of static. 'There is a lot of vegetation down here, weeds and stuff, but you can tell Sadie the shaft wall is in pretty good condition so far.'

That's great!' 'Hang on a. . . ' the Doctor's voice faded briefly and then returned, '. . . to get through here. I'll need. . . hands to move it.'

'Didn't get that. Can you repeat, over?'

Crackle. 'Lots of weeds and. . . yes, probably brambles I think. I'll need both hands to move it so I can get past. Hold the rope a minute.

I'll have to switch the walkie-talkie off. Over and out.'

The radio crackled and Martha looked at Angela. 'I heard,' she said, and stopped winding the rope out. 'He's doing well, isn't he?'

'I hope so,' Martha said. 'He has a knack of finding trouble, though.'

The Doctor spun slowly in the darkness, watching the light from his torch play over the shaft wall. There was a tangle of weeds and roots growing all over the old brickwork, and a big patch of brambles. The light gleamed briefly on the tips of some viciously sharp thorns.

With great care he pushed aside some of the thinner, more straggling branches, doing his best to avoid the thorns. The brambles grew more thickly below, almost like a barrier.

Craning his neck, the Doctor looked back up the well-shaft. It was very dark, but he could still see a coin-shaped white disc above him.

The sky. It seemed alarmingly small and distant. But there was still a lot further to go; he had to carry on.

Steeling himself, he turned back to the matter at hand. He swung himself across the well and grabbed hold of one of the st.u.r.dier roots.

It was growing out of the shaft wall, but the damage didn't look too bad. Nothing that couldn't be patched up once the vegetation was removed. He twisted around in his harness and shone the torch down-wards. He could see a narrow gap through the bramble thicket. If he took it carefully, he could probably climb down right through it.

Beyond the brambles was nothing but impenetrable blackness. The torch beam was simply swallowed whole. He found the walkie-talkie and pressed the call switch. 'h.e.l.lo up there. . . '

Martha's voice crackled faintly: 'Hi! Everything OK?'

'I've found a way through the worst of it. You can lower away.'