Title: The Siege of Annwfn (9/10)

Author: Emma

Characters: Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, Torchwood Three Team, Others.

Rating: R

Disclaimer: Oh, please. If I owned them, would I let some of those idiots write the scripts? And if I were making any money off them, would I be where they could find me?

Spoilers: None. This takes place in my Homecoming AU, a few months after The Eye of Neith.

Summary: The only things that stand between our Universe and disaster are Torchwood Three and Ianto’s growing powers…

Part one is here; Part two is here; Part three is here; Part four is here; Part five is here; Part six is here; Part seven is here; Part eight is here

            Jack stared at the large mound. All he could see was a lot of  trees and a rather forlorn ruined church. If he twisted himself into a pretzel, he could glimpse a couple of tents set up between the church and a ditch on the south side of the mound.

            “Andy,” he said grumpily. “I thought you said there was a castle around here.”

            “It’s a ringwork, you twypsin! The palisade and the keep were wood and they rotted away long ago. Just follow me.”

            He stalked away, muttering to himself. Jack followed, grinning at the Doctor, who grinned back in his most maniacal fashion. There had been no chance of keeping the Time Lord in the Hub this time, and, truth be told, Jack hadn’t tried too hard. He had difficulty dealing with the idea of Potentialities, but a brief demonstration from Ianto and a couple of scans and he adjusted to the shift in reality. Not happily, but he managed it.

When told about Donna, though, the Doctor had blanched and gone silent. Jack knew he had a special spot in his hearts for the flamboyant, acerbic redhead. Donna had been the closest thing to a sister the Doctor had ever had; a human-style, bug-the-hell-out-of-older-brother sister. The idea that it might not have been necessary to wipe her memory shattered him. Even after Ianto had pointed out that Donna’s human mind had been buckling under the pressure of the metacrisis, the Doctor remained somehow convinced that he could have done something else, something more.

            That someone had dared to manhandle Donna at the moment of her death had filled the Time Lord with a rage all the more terrifying for its self-contained impassivity. Martha had told them later that the last time he had seen the Doctor that angry was in his dealings with the Family. She still had nightmares, she had said, about the punishments the Doctor had meted out.

            They trudged around the mound, Andy in the lead and Jack bringing up the rear. The excavation site was ringed with rope and guarded by a careless young layabout who was more than happy to retreat to the nearest pub with twenty quid in his pocket and the excuse of Torchwood made me do it.

            They followed the clearly-marked path to the dig site. Things were exactly as Andy had described them. The standing stone wasn’t large, but its carvings stood starkly white against its mossy, dirt-encrusted surface. The Doctor brushed his fingers over them, then pressed as close to the stone as he could without touching it and took a deep sniff.

            “Aim your device here, Mr. Hart.”

            John pressed a couple of buttons on the manipulator then aimed it at the stone. They all felt the whine of gathering energy. Slowly the stone faded to a ghostly image. Through it they could see a meadow of knee-high coppery grass, dotted with silver-leaved trees loaded down with green fruit. Beyond that rose a castle right out of a fairy tale. Its high walls were made of alternating bands of metal and stone, each inlaid with the other in abstract designs. Delicate glass spires and hanging gardens could be glimpsed inside them.

            “It’s a lyari,” the Doctor said. “A rather elaborate one.”

            “A whatziz, Doctor?”

            “A rich man’s folly, Andy. The equivalent of the Brighton Pavilion. There was a fashion for them in Gallifrey at one point.” He made an after-you-Alphonse gesture. “Time’s a-wasting, gentlemen.”

            They stepped through into a piece of Gallifrey. Jack looked around curiously. While traveling with the Doctor he had dug through the TARDIS’s library for as much information on the Time Lord home planet as he could find, so some of it seemed familiar at second-hand. He broke off a blade of grass and sniffed it.

            “Cinnamon,” Ianto murmured. “And the fruit of those trees tastes like sweet rain.”

            “How do you know?”

            “The Doctor’s TARDIS took me to a similar place right after this.” He tapped his wrist. “The place I was in had a very large city in the distance, and beautiful snow-capped mountains and you could see the moons and the sky change colors. Here…”

            They both looked up. In place of a sky there was a pewter dome that shaded towards black at the edges, where it met the meadow.

            “In Caer Pedryvan, in the Isle of the Strong Door, where twilight and pitchy darkness meet together,” Andy quoted. “It’s fucking creepy, this place.”

            “Trust Andy to bring us back to reality,” Jack sighed. “He’s right. It’s a creepy place.”

            As they neared the castle, they saw that sculptures of men and women in what must have been the Gallifreyan equivalent of armor had been evenly spaced along the battlements.

            “Three-score hundred stood in the walls,” Andy quoted again. “What the hell is that for? Who do they think will invade?”

            “Another piece of foolishness,” said the Doctor. “The lyariei were all about the fantasy of power, and what is more powerful than to rule over men? Those things are androids. Most lyari owners avoided having to deal with servants. Too expensive and too demanding. Can you imagine the food bill? Or the size of the servants’ quarters?”

            “I’m not concerned about that,” Andy muttered. “I’d just like a fix on the kennels.”

            “Never mind the kennels, Andy,” Ianto said. “Here are the dogs.”

            Six white-and-red hounds rose from the tall grass that grew against the massive stone and metal walls. They growled softly as they began to move, circling the group. Jack, John, and Andy pulled out their guns; Ianto waited, gathering energy as he had been taught.  The Doctor, however, had other ideas.

            “Nice doggies!” He almost bounced out of his trainers as he moved towards the hounds. “Look, Jack, aren’t they handsome?”

            “Gorgeous, Doc,” Jack said, keeping a wary eye on the growling animals. “Keep your fingers out of reach, ok?”

            “Oh, they won’t hurt me, Jack,” the Doctor said reprovingly as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the sonic screwdriver. “They’re niiiice doggies.”

            He pointed the screwdriver and pressed something. The hounds sat back on their haunches and howled, then flopped onto their bellies, their front paws batting at their ears. Suddenly, the spheres at the ends of the torques blew apart with sharp pops, and six young men in short gray robes lay on the ground, twitching slightly.

            “Neat trick,” John said.

            “I don’t have time to deal with foot soldiers,” the Doctor said, “especially not conscripts. It’s the generals I’ve got business with.”

            They marched on towards the castle. As they came closer they could see that the beautiful walls were pitted and rusted, and pieces of the android soldiers lay shattered on the ground. The massive gates were in slightly better condition. They were fashioned out of great sheets of hammered metal and inset with panels of translucent stone carved with complex geometric patterns. Exactly in the center, obviously the equivalent of a lock, was a gold plate with a depression in the shape of a hand.

             “Can you open it, Doc?”

            “Under regular circumstances, yes. These door plates are basically DNA readers. You were supposed to program them with the genetic code of those you wanted to have access to your home. Pathetically easy to fool.”

            “So what’s the problem?”

            ‘They are from another Universe, Jack. There are minute differences at the cellular level that I can’t fake.”

            *Tell the Other’s One not to worry. We will assist him.*

            “Doctor,” Ianto stepped up to stand next to the Time Lord, “TARDIS says we can help you.”

            “Oh?”

            *Tell him to put his hand on the plate.*

            Ianto relayed the instruction. The Doctor complied without a word.

            *Now. Like this.*

            Ianto placed his hand over the Doctor’s, matching finger placement exactly. He could see the Time Lord’s energy patterns, could feel them under his fingers. He used his own to subtly alter them, tweaking them into different channels sometimes no more than a cell’s breadth apart, then pushed them into the plate.

            The gates swung open.

            The Doctor rubbed his palms together. “That was interesting. You and I need to have some very long conversations, Ianto. Very, very long conversations.”

            Ianto rolled his eyes. “Later, Doctor.”

            They stepped into a wide courtyard surrounded by elegant buildings that flowed sinuously upwards and tapered off into delicate turrets. A long time ago they must have been very beautiful, but now they were all in varying stages of disrepair. Several doors hung from their hinges.

            “Andy,” Jack said. “You’re the expert. Where should we go next?”

            “Find Gwair. He’s kept chained somewhere around here.”

            Jack looked around. “Lots of places to search.”

            The Doctor cocked an eyebrow at Ianto. “Would your friend oblige?”

            “I don’t think he needs to,” Ianto reached for Jack’s hand, centering himself in his One’s incandescent life force. It didn’t take long to locate the alien energies. “Eight. In that building, top floor or the one lower down.”

            They went in police-style, guns drawn and sweeping the place for traps, but it was deserted and had been for a very long time. A thick coating of dust lay everywhere and small mouse-like creatures nested openly in corners and under furniture. It wasn’t until they reached the upper landing that they saw signs of habitation. The place was scrubbed and polished to a fare-thee-well, and there was a faint scent of cooking.

            There was only one door on the landing, a huge affair nearly the match of the wall gates. This time, though, it swung open as they approached. A blast of energy lifted them off their feet and threw them about like ninepins. In its wake, seven ghostly figures stalked through, right hands raised and pointed at Jack and Ianto. They collapsed, convulsing as alien energy surged through them. From inside the room, a voice cried out.

            “Help them. Don’t let them die. Help them!”