Doctor Who: The Legends of Ashildr

by Justin Richards

  It was all I could do not to sink to my knees and weep. I felt Edward take my hand, and together we stumbled onwards. I wanted to close my eyes, but I could not look away from the figure that I knew so well, that I remembered so desperately. It seemed to take for ever, although in truth it must have been only a few seconds. But finally we reached the figure.

  Essie looked at me, an expression of sadness mixed with disappointment on her face. Then she shook her head. ‘Mother,’ she breathed. ‘Oh, Mother.’ Or perhaps I imagined the words. In another moment, she was gone. But I knew the memory of that moment would haunt me for as long as the memory of her death…

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Edward said. He gripped my hand tighter, pulling gently so I had to turn towards him.

  ‘I’m sorry too,’ I said. ‘If what you saw was half as upsetting as what I saw…’

  But he was shaking his head. ‘That’s not what I meant. It just gets worse. Every time is worse than the time before, harder than the time before.’

  ‘Which must mean we are getting closer to our goal,’ I pointed out.

  Edward shook his head again, and I realised that there were tears running down his wrinkled cheeks. ‘I can’t do that again,’ he said. ‘We tried. We did our best. But I think we must stop now.’

  ‘But we’re so close,’ I said. ‘We must be close.’

  ‘Even so.’

  I could tell from his tone, from his expression, from the tight grip on his hand, from the way he stood – from everything about him – that he was right. Edward could go no further. And somehow that made me even more determined to discover the truth about the ghosts of Branscombe Wood.

  ‘You go home,’ I said gently. ‘Go back to Maria. Stay safe.’

  He frowned as he realised what I meant. ‘But, are you not coming too?’

  I tried to force a smile. Whether it looked anything like a smile or merely served to show how scared I really was I have no idea. ‘I will go on.’ I let go of his hand, and pressed my forefinger to his lips to stop him protesting. ‘I’ve come this far, and I think I can go a little further at least. If I don’t,’ I told him, ‘then all this has been for nothing.’

  Edward nodded slowly. ‘I can see that,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m sorry I can’t stay with you.’

  ‘Don’t be,’ I told him. ‘Go back to Maria. Stay safe with her. You both have far more to lose than I have.’ He looked at me quizzically, and I spoke before he could ask: ‘I have already lost everything I ever had,’ I said quietly. ‘Many times over. Don’t ask. Just go.’

  He reached out and took my hand again. For a moment, he held it tight, then he pressed it to his lips, nodded, let go of my hand and turned and walked quickly away. Perhaps he paused. Perhaps he looked back. I do not know, because I was already walking down the path, towards the next ghost.

  As the figure fleshed out in front of me, congealing out of shadow and darkness, I knew that this would be the last ghost I would have to face on my journey. Whoever or whatever was doing this had reached back into my mind and memory as far as I myself could remember to conjure this particular apparition.

  A figure I barely remembered stood ahead waiting for me on the path. I had all but forgotten what he looked like, but I knew at once who he was. He was the man – if man he be – who had been responsible for my death all those years ago. Centuries ago. And in causing my death, he had condemned me to this unending life. Condemned me to watch those I love and care for fade and slip away – like ghosts, but far more real.

  I bit hard into my lower lip, hoping the physical pain of it would blot out the emotional pain. I did look back then, hoping that somehow Edward had changed his mind and was still there with me. But he had gone. I turned back, alone, to face Odin.

  He stared back at me, one eye covered as I remembered, dressed in the trappings of the god that he was not and never had been. Even in life, Odin had been a deception I told myself. He was not what he seemed then, and he was not what he seemed now.

  ‘Stand aside, woman,’ he commanded. He raised his hand, palm out, to stop me.

  I hesitated. I desperately wanted to do as he said, to turn away. To run back to the village and tell them I had done the best I could, and that I was sorry it was not enough. But I knew it wasn’t true. I could do more. I could go on.

  ‘This is your last chance, Ashildr,’ Odin said. I think what shocked me most was the sound of my name – my real name from so long ago. ‘You do not wish to see what lies ahead.’

  So, I thought, there is something ahead – I was right. And that moment of elation – that moment of knowing that this was not all for nothing and that there was indeed something to be discovered inside that area protected by the ghosts – that spurred me on. I realised with surprise that I was smiling. And this time it was a real, genuine smile and not a mask to hide my true feelings.

  ‘No,’ I said, my voice strong and confident. ‘You who are not Odin, and who never was – you stand aside.’

  I stood for a moment in front of him, staring into his face. Then I raised my hand and pushed him away. Except that my hand touched nothing but the empty air where Odin had been standing. I was alone again on the path. And I knew that I had almost reached my destination. Whatever it might be.

  My heart thumping hard in my chest, I took a deep breath and continued along the path. Was it my imagination, or had the shadows deepened? As if in answer there was a rumble of thunder. Through the dense canopy of trees, what I could see of the sky had darkened to a metallic grey. It was just a coincidence of course, but it unsettled me.

  Ahead of me, the path curved gently through the trees so that where it led was hidden. But as I started along the curved section, I could see something glistening in the pale light ahead of me. I could not yet make it out, but it looked like a metal structure of some sort.

  As I grew closer I saw that many of the trees and bushes that I had assumed masked the structure from me were in fact growing up into it. Whatever this strange building was, it had been here for so long that the wood was growing through it as well as around it.

  The building looked more like a castle than anything else I had seen before. It was made of metal, dulled and tarnished with age. A central tower rose to a pointed turret, while the lower part splayed out into a larger shape. Buttresses projected out from the base, bent and rusted. The bottom of the huge castle looked as though it had been burned, the metal bubbled and charred by intense heat.

  I stood for a while, staring at the strange castle. Was this what the ghosts and apparitions were guarding? And if so, what could be inside? Of course, there was only one way to find out and I could put off the moment no longer. From where I stood there was no obvious entrance to the castle. In fact, now I looked, I could see no windows either. The only holes in the building were where the branches of trees had forced their way through.

  As I warily circled the castle, I saw that one large tree trunk had broken through the side of the castle, branches hanging down the outside. Moss and ivy grew across the dented metal. Further round, I finally saw what I had been looking for – a way in.

  The arched entrance was covered by a metal door. I could see no sign of any handle or lock. The metal seemed completely smooth, except for a patina of rust and corrosion. I looked round for a bell-pull or doorknocker as I approached, but could see neither. But then, as I grew closer – close enough to reach out and touch this weird door – it slid open before me. The metal door retracted into the frame, leaving an open archway.

  I hesitated on the threshold. Inside was only darkness. I listened but apart from the wind in the trees and another distant roll of thunder I could hear nothing. Certainly no sound came from within. Feeling every bit as disconcerted as when I had seen the ghosts, I stepped inside.

  Immediately, the interior flickered into light. It was a dull glow, tinged red. But I could see no sign of either candles or oil lamps. The light seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. What it illuminated was a passageway stretchi
ng ahead of me. Even in this dull, blood-red light, I could see that the walls inside the castle were also metal, as was the floor. I looked up, and was not surprised to see that the ceiling too gleamed dully. A strand of ivy hung down where it had forced its way through an imperceptible crack high above.

  My feet rang on the floor as I walked slowly along the corridor, the sound echoing off the metal walls. Ahead of me, more light glimmered into life, as if sensing that I was there.

  A noise from behind made me stop and turn abruptly. I saw that the metal door had slid shut behind me, and I hoped that it would open as mysteriously when I returned. If I returned, I thought, not having any idea what might lie ahead. I started forward again, and I sensed rather than saw that, just as light appeared ahead of me, so it was extinguished behind me. When I did glance over my shoulder, the end of the corridor and the door where I had entered were lost in darkness.

  I wondered for the first time what I would do if there was nothing here. What if this was all there was to find – this metal castle with its strange door and eerie light? How far should I go before I turned back, before I returned to the village to tell them what I had found and that it had made no difference and the ghosts would still appear?

  As I pondered this, the growing light ahead of me illuminated another door. Like the entranceway where I had come in, it was a plain metal plate held within an archway. And, like the entranceway, the metal plate slid aside as I approached. Lights flickered into being on the other side, illuminating the chamber that lay beyond.

  It was like nothing I had ever seen before, although it reminded me a little of the metal room where I had first encountered the man who claimed to be Odin. Was this, I wondered, a similar sky ship – no, I remembered, space ship – but one which had run aground here in Branscombe Wood?

  Lights that had no flame flickered and pulsed on strange upright metal tables and metal boards. The air was suffused with a low hum and I could feel the faintest vibration in the floor beneath my feet as I stepped inside.

  A figure rose up in front of me. In truth, I cannot say whether it appeared out of the air like the apparitions in the wood outside, or whether it simply stepped out from behind one of the panels. It was a woman. She was tall and slim with long fair hair. She wore a simple plain covering of silver and her deep, dark eyes held me in a steady gaze for a brief moment.

  Then, in an instant, she was gone. Instead, I gazed back at the implacable visor of the knight of Agincourt. But I had seen enough to know it was not really him – even if I had not already surmised that he did not in reality exist at all. So, without fear, I took a step closer. And then another.

  ‘What is this place?’ I demanded.

  The knight did not answer. Instead, he shimmered and blurred. When he again solidified before me, his aspect had changed and he was now the plague doctor.

  ‘You should not be here,’ he announced, voice echoing both inside his elongated mask and within the metal walls that surrounded us.

  ‘I have every right to be here,’ I countered. ‘Indeed,’ I went on, ‘I think it is you who are misplaced. You have no right to be here, and nor does this great metal castle in which you live. If indeed you are alive in any real sense.’

  ‘You are not like the other primitives,’ the plague doctor said. Again, his outline shimmered and swam before me. This time it settled back into the fair-haired woman I had glimpsed when I first entered.

  ‘Who are you?’ I asked. ‘I mean, who are you really?’

  The woman looked at me with obvious amusement. ‘The systems are reassessing you. There is no reason why we should not speak together while they complete their work. I am the Ship.’

  This made no sense to me. How could a woman be a ship? But instead I asked: ‘And is what I see now your true form?’

  The woman laughed at that. ‘I have no form, not as you understand it. I told you, I am the Ship. I am all around you. You called me a castle.’

  ‘You are this whole building?’ I asked, amazed and unsure quite what that could mean.

  ‘In a sense. In another sense, I do not exist at all. I am certainly not alive in the way that you understand. What you see now, what is talking to you, is merely an avatar, a focal point, a construct for you to speak to and to speak to you.’

  ‘And the ghosts outside?’ I asked. ‘Are they also constructed as you are?’

  ‘In a way.’ The woman, or whatever she really was, hesitated as if deciding if she should continue. ‘I crash landed here,’ she said after a few moments. ‘Many, many years ago by your reckoning. I suffered a serious systems failure and made planetfall here. My crew was killed in the incident, so I am alone.’

  I sensed a sadness in her at these words. I knew – and still know – what it is like to be alone. I waited to see if she would explain further, although I confess little of what she said made sense to me.

  ‘The ghosts, as you call them, are a defence mechanism,’ she went on at last. ‘I must remain safe and undetected by the primitives. They would not understand. They might destroy me and harm themselves in the process. My systems reach into their minds, their memories, and pluck out images that seem strong and which will be respected or feared.’

  ‘And these images become real?’

  ‘They seem to. They are projected back into the primitives’ minds to warn them away.’

  ‘But you’re frightening them,’ I protested. ‘There is a young woman in the village who you drove mad with your images.’

  The woman’s brow creased slightly in what might have been a puzzled frown. ‘I cannot be held responsible for how primitive minds react to images that are taken from within those self-same minds. If their minds are so weak they can be damaged by their own memories, then that is not my fault.’

  I was about to reply, about to tell her that I disagreed and that she should stop harming people and we could find another way to keep the villagers away from her strange metal castle. But I never got the chance. At that moment the lights around the room flashed furiously and a chatter of incoherent sound echoed round the chamber.

  The woman stiffened. ‘I understand,’ she said.

  ‘What was that?’ I demanded.

  ‘The assessment is complete,’ the woman said calmly. ‘Your presence, your words, your intelligence have all been evaluated. I am sorry.’

  ‘Sorry?’ I echoed. ‘Sorry for what?’

  Behind me, I heard the metal door slide shut. The woman began to blur again. Another figure formed out of her – one from my distant past. ‘Father?’ I gasped in surprise.

  ‘I am sorry,’ he said in the voice I remembered so dimly, so faintly from all those years ago. ‘You have been assessed as a threat. You must be destroyed.’

  With these words, he drew his great sword and stepped towards me. I stared in horror and astonishment. I knew he wasn’t really my father. I knew he wasn’t real at all. But I also had no doubt that he meant to kill me – either with the sword or by driving me out of my mind with more apparitions drawn from my memory.

  There are so many memories I have struggled to forget, any one of which might drive me to distraction and leave me as broken and mindless as poor Jane. Any one of the pages torn from my journals so I would never have to read them again might do it.

  Only when I felt the cold metal against my back did I realise that I had been moving away from the approaching figure. I ducked to one side as the sword cut through the air. I was under no illusions about how substantial this apparition was. It was no creature of the air like the others. The sword clanged off the metal plate, and I realised that this time the door had not opened as I neared it. I was trapped.

  As my father who was not my father turned towards me, another figure appeared across the chamber. Again, it was a man from my past – my husband. He shook his head sadly, as if disappointed. Beside him, the knight from Agincourt was hefting his own sword while the plague doctor stepped from behind a panel.

  There were more figures than I coul
d count, fading into existence all around me. The king I had married, lepers I had watched die, friends long dead and enemies long forgotten. My husband Tomas, my lover Prince Karim. A dog-faced Caniform reared up, massive and brutal beside the Wizard of Marabia.

  And my children, Essie, Johann and Rue, stared at me accusingly – as if asking how I could have let them die.

  Out of panic as much as calculation, I ran for the nearest table of lights. These lights, I thought, must somehow be connected to the castle. Something here must control the doors and if only I could find it, I might open the door to the chamber and escape back into the woods.

  There were things to press and others to turn. Small levers and tiny wheels, windows through which I could see thin strips of metal moving along a scale, text I could not read and all manner of things I could not begin to comprehend. Moving quickly to avoid swords and spears, trying desperately not to meet the gaze of any of the figures that followed me, I pressed and turned and twisted everything I could.

  A sword slammed down into one of the tables, slicing deep into the metal where moments before my hand had been. A shower of sparks erupted from the metal wound. I twisted away, still pressing and turning and twisting whatever I could reach.

  And then, suddenly, I was alone. The lighting deepened to a blood red. From somewhere deep within the castle came a sound – a mournful wail, building then falling. I knew instinctively that it must be an alarm of some sort, a warning.

  ‘Ignition sequence activated,’ a voice said. I turned sharply, but there was no one there. ‘Ignition sequence activated,’ the disembodied voice said again. ‘Countdown begins.’

  As I turned, looking for whoever was speaking, I saw that the door had opened. I ran towards it, but this time as I approached it started to close again. I hurled myself towards the shrinking gap between the door and its frame. The metal plate grazed my shoulder as it slammed shut. But, mercifully, I was through and back in the corridor. I ran, ignoring the pain in my shoulder.