Doctor Who: Royal Blood follows Clara and the Doctor back in time to Varuz, a failing city-state in the hands of Duke Aurelian. Hoping to win one final battle in an attempt to maintain power, Aurelian asks for the Doctor’s blessing—but plots to overthrow the Duke, a quest for the Holy Grail, and an anxious ambassador confirm that there is more going on in Varuz than meets the eye.
Writer Una McCormack is a New York Times bestselling author. She has written two Doctor Who novels featuring the Eleventh Doctor, Amy, and Rory—The King’s Dragon and The Way Through the Woods—as well as several audio dramas for Big Finish. She lives in Cambridge with her partner, Matthew, and their daughter, Verity.
After the jump check out an excerpt of Doctor Who: Royal Blood available now!
‘Are we lost?’ Clara peered down into the deep narrow valley. It was very beautiful, she had to admit, with the bright green grass and light dusting of mountain flowers. A touch Heidi. But it wasn’t the quasi-mediaeval city she had been promised. It was nothing like a city at all.
‘Lost?’ The Doctor waved the sonic screwdriver around in an apparently random fashion. ‘Of course we’re not lost. Lost is a state of mind. Lost is an attitude towards one’s circumstances—’
‘We are lost.’
‘Maybe a little.’
‘But all we really need is a change of attitude.’
‘That,’ said the Doctor, ‘would be a start.’
Clara smiled to herself. ‘There’s a path over there,’ she said. ‘Looks, um, muddy. But it’s definitely a path. Why don’t we bring some attitude to that?’
The Doctor shrugged. ‘As long as it’s going down.’
It was indeed going down, and precipitously, but they met the challenge with equanimity and, even, Clara thought, with attitude. When they were back on more level ground, the sun was beginning to set. ‘What would happen,’ Clara said, asking a question which had been troubling her ever since they had arrived on this world, ‘if the TARDIS fell off its perch?’ They’d materialised on a very steep slope. There had been some considerable manoeuvring to get out. ‘Would it break?’
‘Break?’ The Doctor stopped mid-step. ‘The TARDIS is a highly sophisticated machine. It’s practically alive. Do you think it would just let itself fall off a hill?’
Clara reached out a hand to stop the Doctor from taking a tumble himself. ‘In fairness, I think we can call this a mountain,’ said Clara. ‘And there’s a thing we call gravity.’
‘It wouldn’t do too much damage,’ said the Doctor, putting both feet firmly down again. ‘It never has in the past.’
‘Oh good,’ said Clara. ‘That’s encouraging. Next question – and you don’t know how I’ve longed to ask this ever since I took up teaching and got stuck with daytrip duty – are we there yet?’
‘Nearly.’
‘Nearly. I’ll hold you to that. I mean, I’m enjoying the quiet and everything – don’t get me wrong – you don’t ever really hear quiet, do you? There’s always music playing, or someone trying to talk to you, or else the hum of an ancient and precariously balanced time machine. So some silence is nice. But I’m nearly up to my limit. Nearly.’
The Doctor smiled and walked on. Clara followed. The path curved round the mountainside, and, reaching the other side, Clara stopped in her tracks and gasped.
There was a city in the valley – small but grand, with strong square buildings made of a fine yellow stone. A river ran through the city, crossed by – Clara counted – seven iron bridges. Beyond the city lay the sea, over which the sun was setting in a great red ball of flame, glittering orange on the sea and the river, and setting the stone of the city’s buildings ablaze.
‘Wow,’ said Clara.
‘Yes,’ said the Doctor.
They stood together, in silence, and watched the darkness gather. The sun slid down the sky, more quickly than one would have expected, until at last it slipped down below the horizon. And then, to Clara’s surprise, the city came alight again: bright pricks of yellow light coming from the buildings; strings of light like beads marking out the river.
‘Hang on a minute,’ said Clara, ‘That’s electric light! Doctor, I thought we were somewhere olde worlde. Should there be electric lights?’
‘Why not?’ said the Doctor. ‘History can be complicated.’
They admired the pretty cityscape for a while until, suddenly, half the city was plunged into darkness, as if a great blanket had fallen from the sky, smothering out the lights. ‘What was that?’ said Clara. ‘Power cut?’
‘Could be,’ the Doctor said. His sonic screwdriver was back out, Clara noticed.
She narrowed her eyes. ‘Is there something going on here, Doctor?’
‘Going on?’
‘I don’t really believe that you ever go anywhere by chance.’
He gave her a hurt look. ‘Now, Clara, that’s not entirely fair.’
‘No?’
‘I’ll admit the TARDIS has a knack of finding places experiencing… how shall we put it? A little local difficulty.’
‘Oh, and you love a little local difficulty, don’t you, Doctor?’
He gave a mirthless grin. ‘Well, it wouldn’t be polite to walk on by.’
